Ice and Embers (Regency Redezvous Book 10)

by Melanie Karsak

  “Shh,” Kai hissed, motioning for the men to be silent.

  The men muttered quietly.

  Kai frowned as he strained to listen.

  “Be silent, gentlemen,” I told them.

  Rightly chastised, they quieted.

  Kai listened intently then sat up.

  Frustrated, he pushed his hair back. When he went to lean in again, he spied a boy standing beside his father. The child held a cone with a ball attached.

  “May I use that?” Kai asked him.

  The boy nodded absently then handed the cone to Kai.

  Kai set the wide part of the cone on the man’s chest and gently placed his ear on the smaller end. A moment later, his eyebrows arched and a wisp of a smile crossed his face. He sat up. “There is still a chance. You,” he said, turning to the boy. “Run to the soup maker. Tell her to prepare a barrel of warm water. Go quickly. This man may yet survive, but we need to move him.”

  “Grab his legs, boys,” one of the men said to his comrades in a slurred voice.

  “No,” Kai said. “We need a stretcher.”

  The men looked around, puzzled.

  “Here,” I said, unfastening the tie at the neck of my long winter coat. I unbuttoned the garment and pressed it toward Kai.

  Kai motioned to the men to lay my coat on the ice while he absent-mindedly pulled off his jacket. Without another word, he handed it to me. I slid into the coat. It was still warm from his body heat. I was overcome with his familiar scent. I caught a hint of the spicy shaving soap he preferred and the sharp, tangy smells of medicines. But more than that, I could smell him, the deep scent a person’s body carries that you recognize with familiarity. To me, Kai’s very essence carried the smells of sunshine and summer. And after a lifetime of being with him, it was an essence I knew as well as my own.

  Kai moved to help the others lift the man from the ice onto my frock. I could not help but notice how the man’s clothes and hair stuck to the surface of the river. The Thames seemed unwilling to let go of what she’d won.

  The men dashed quickly across the ice, carrying the man toward the soup maker’s tent.

  “Clear the way,” a man yelled, moving the crowd aside.

  As we approached the tent, an old woman stepped into the lane. “Here, here,” she called, motioning us forward.

  We rushed ahead.

  The woman directed us to a large barrel.

  Kai motioned to the other men, and on the count of three, they lifted the drowned man and slid him into the barrel of warm water. The man bobbed oddly in the barrel, the water reaching his chest.

  “We must heat his trunk uniformly, or the icy blood will stop his heart. Do you have anything else? Anything?” Kai asked the cook urgently.

  “Kai,” I said, pointing to a pot heating over a stove.

  “Madame, is it boiling?” he asked her.

  “No, Doctor. It’s just…it’s stock, beef and onions.”

  “Help me,” Kai said and moving quickly, the three of us lifted the cauldron. Careful not to burn ourselves, the cook handling the pot with covered hands, we poured the hot broth into the barrel where the unconscious man slumped weirdly.

  Keeping Kai’s words in mind, I grabbed a bundle of linens from the nearby table, dashed them into the hot water, and covered the man’s head with the steaming towels.

  Kai stood behind the man and pressed him into the water as deeply as possible, pushing him down until just a little of his face protruded from the steaming liquid.

  Bits of meat and onions bobbed at the top of the barrel.

  A moment later, the man’s eyelashes fluttered.

  “Did you see that?” I whispered to Kai.

  He nodded. “Madame, please ask the others to bring blankets and warm wraps, as many as can be spared,” Kai told the cook who went to the door of her tent and relayed the request to the crowd.

  “A few more minutes in the hot liquid. Then, once the wraps are here, we must get him dry and close to a hearth,” Kai told me.

  “He needs to get off the Thames,” I said.

  Kai nodded.

  A moment later, Kai and I both paused when we heard the man whisper.

  “Mother? Are we having onion soup?”

  I suppressed a laugh.

  “Sir? Sir, can you hear me?” Kai called.

  The man’s eyes fluttered open for a moment. A confused expression crossed his face. “I don’t like onion soup,” he whispered then closed his eyes once more.

  I smiled gently at him and mopped his head once more with the heated cloths. “So quick bright things come to confusion,” I whispered, stealing a line from Shakespeare’s play.

  A few minutes later, the cook returned, men following behind her carrying heaps of blankets.

  “Gentlemen, please stay. Ladies, I must ask you to step out,” he said, motioning to the cook and me.

  “I can help,” I offered.

  Kai shook his head. “He must be undressed.”

  Nodding, I stepped outside.

  A large crowd had gathered around.

  “Miss? Is he dead? What’s happening?” someone called.

  “He did wake for just a moment, but he is not clear of danger yet,” I informed them.

  “Miss,” the young boy, whose toy had been such aid, tugged at the sleeve of Kai’s jacket. “You dropped these,” he said, handing me my roses.

  I bent down and kissed the boy on the forehead. “Thank you. What a help you are, young man.”

  He smiled. Even in the dim evening light, I could see his cheeks burn red. He bowed to me then ran off.

  I waited by the brazier just outside the tent. My chest ached. I realized then that tension had wracked at me. I’d been holding my breath in fits and spurts. I stared at the tent flap, wishing for Kai to reappear.

  A moment later, one of the men quickly exited the tent and ran into the night. After him, another man rushed out, calling for a wagon.

  Cautiously, I stepped back inside. The man lay on the table covered in blankets. His eyes were open, but he babbled incoherently.

  “He’s alive,” Kai told me. “But his wit’s diseased. I’ve sent a messenger to Master Hawking. It is the nearest amiable place I can think of.”

  I nodded but said nothing. I was very certain that amiable was an understatement of Kai’s esteem for the tinker, Master Hawking, and his daughter, Isabelle.

  I moved to the table where the man lay staring at some unknown point in the distance. “Does anyone know who he is?” I asked.

  Kai shook his head.

  “Sir, what is your name?” I asked him.

  He turned and looked at me. “Titania?”

  I looked up at Kai. “He must have been at the play.”

  “Titania, tell mother I don’t like onion soup,” he whispered.

  “I will remind her,” I said, smiling softly at him. Unsure what to do, I pulled a stool out and sat beside the man, and gently set my hand on his arm. “Shall I sing for you?” I asked.

  I looked to Kai who nodded in approval as he checked the man’s feet.

  When the man made no other comment, I began singing lightly. An old tune my granny used to sing to me, the song of two lovers who met in secret in a rose garden, came to mind. The song, which took place in summer, reminded me of warmer days and bright sunshine. I closed my eyes and imagined bright light beaming down on the man, filling his entire body with sunshine and warmth.

  It felt like an eternity passed before one of the men returned. “Master Hawking is expecting you, Doctor,” the man said as he held open the tent door just as I warbled the last line of my song.

  I looked past the man and outside. Amongst the crowd, I spotted the fair-haired foreign gentleman in the blue suit.

  I smiled at him.

  He returned my smile, tipping the brim of his top hat toward me, but then others crowded around, and I couldn’t see him anymore.

  Kai nodded. “The wagon?”

  “Just pulled up.”

&nb
sp; “We’re ready, Doctor Murray,” another man called as he appeared at the tent door.

  I stepped aside as the men moved to carefully carry the insensible gentleman to the wagon. It was just a short ride along the Thames to the Hawkings’ workshop.

  “Elyse, why don’t you go home,” Kai suggested, gently taking my hand in his. “Your hands are freezing. This has been quite enough for you for one night, I think.”

  “You may need my help,” I offered.

  “I may need to spend the night unless we can call in the local surgeon to look after him.”

  I nodded. Still, I hated to let him go alone.

  Kai squeezed my hand. “Have someone walk you home.”

  “I will. Be safe.”

  Kai nodded then slid into the back of the wagon with his patient. He passed a word to the driver then they headed down Freezeland Lane out of sight.

  I stared in the distance at London Bridge. They said the old bridge was falling apart. There was already talk of tearing her down. Light shone from the gas lamps lining the bridge. From my point of view on the river, they shimmered like gaudy stars.

  “Miss McKenna,” the cook said.

  I turned to look at her.

  “How about a bowl of soup to warm you before you leave?”

  I smiled and nodded. “Thank you. Yes. Anything but onion,” I said with a laugh which she joined.

  Chapter Five

  “Here you are, Miss McKenna,” Old Master Williams said, slowing his carriage in front of my door. He slipped out of the carriage to help me down.

  “Thank you again, sir.” Taking his hand, I stepped onto the street. The fog was so thick that I couldn’t see the buildings at the end of the row.

  “Think nothing of it,” he said with a tip of the hat. “Such strange weather, isn’t it? I don’t remember seeing such fog before.”

  I nodded. “Strange, indeed.”

  “You haven’t enchanted it, have you, faerie queen?”

  I laughed. “Perhaps. But I would never tell if I had.”

  The man grinned then bowed.

  “Again, my thanks,” I told him then reached into my reticule for my key. “Good night.”

  “And to you,” he said then got into his carriage once more. Clicking lightly at his horse, he drove off.

  Unlocking the door, I headed inside. The stairs wound upward to my small flat in the third-floor garret at the top of the building. Once inside, I set about getting my fireplace going. Grabbing a vase, I placed the Frost Fair roses close to the window. Marion’s snarky, but true words came to mind. They would fade in the heat. Perhaps the chill from the window would keep them blue a bit longer. Only when the orange light filled the room, the flames fighting off the chill, did I pull off Kai’s coat. I slid a chair close to the fire and slipped off my boots, setting my feet as close to the flames as I dared. I closed my eyes, soaking in the warmth. My mind drifted to thoughts of Granny. How empty the small apartment seemed without her. It had been three years since she’d died, but her touches were still everywhere. From the watercolor paintings on the wall to the embroidered pillows, I felt her presence. I wished she’s been there tonight to see the play. She would have loved it. And she would have been proud of Kai as well.

  I smiled when I thought about Granny and Kai’s grandmother, Gerda, whom I’d called Gram. I sighed, thinking about Granny and Gram, and looked out the window of the garret. Though the window was trimmed with ice, I spied the window frame to Kai’s garret apartment. How our grandmothers used to love to sit by their windows and talk the whole day long. Though misfortune brought both Kai and me under our grandmothers’ care, it had also brought us one another in the process.

  My eyes drooped closed. While it was exciting to be the only players on the Thames, it had made for a long day exposed to the chill. Now, the small room was cozy and warm. As I rested, I envisioned John’s estate in Twickenham with its exquisite parlors and bed chambers. My little garret was probably the size of his butler’s pantry. How nice it would be to win such a fine man’s heart and live in a fine house with fine things. I knew very well that actresses were often the playthings of gentlemen, but it wasn’t that way with John. From the first moment I’d met him, he’d been nothing but proper.

  About two months earlier, after a performance of Hamlet, I’d received a note that a Lord Waldegrave wanted to meet me to express his compliments.

  “A lord?” Amy had said, her eyes wide, when I shared the note with the girls. Lizzie and Hannah had crowded behind me to look over my shoulder at the paper. We were in the ladies’ dressing room backstage.

  Marion snorted. “Not hard to guess what he’s interested in. You already have a doctor. Do you need a nobleman too? And didn’t you just scuttle off a different lord the other night?” she asked. While she attempted to mask it, there was no denying the envy that tinged her voice.

  “First, Doctor Murray is just my friend. And yes, but that was Lord Byron, and everyone knows what he’s about.”

  Lizzie squeezed my arm playfully. “And still you said no. Elyse, how could you? Reputation or no, Lord Byron is an Adonis. And so very famous. Even fine ladies chase him.”

  “Such as Lady Caroline Lamb who went mad and attempted to take her own life over their broken affair?”

  Lizzie sighed dreamily. “Yes…what passion the poet must provoke.”

  “Then I shall point him your direction next time, my Cassandra-like warnings unheeded.”

  Lizzie laughed.

  Marion rolled her eyes, picked up her coat, and left.

  “Lord Waldegrave. That name is not familiar to me.” I looked at the other girls who shrugged. What did we, low-born as we were, know of lords? Many dazzling names circled the aether over our heads. Only because Byron was so scandalous, and well known amongst the London actresses for his carousing, was he well-noted. Lord Waldegrave? I had no idea who he was. “Well, I shall meet him and see. Knowing my luck, he is some merry old curmudgeon, and I remind him of his granddaughter.”

  At that, the girls laughed. Chatting merrily amongst themselves, they quickly changed then left the theatre.

  I sat down at my dressing table and looked into the mirror. I was tired. I had been ill with a fever over Christmas and had just recovered. My already pale skin looked whiter than usual, and the performance had drained me. I hardly would have tried a role as taxing as Ophelia except Marion had commented that I wasn’t good enough for the part.

  I quickly removed my stage makeup and fixed my hair. I had worn a simple day gown to the theatre that day, not thinking I would be seeing anyone other than Kai after the performance. Though he was often busy working, Kai would always meet me after a performance to walk me home. I slipped on my plum-colored dress. While it was hardly fashionable, the color was flattering. I took my pelisse from the peg and headed back into the theatre. I paused a moment when I got to the empty stage. Aside from Marve and Skippy, there was no one left at the Struthers Theatre. The seats were all vacant, and only a few lights glowed. I set down my basket and coat. Taking just a moment before I headed to the lobby, I closed my eyes and breathed in the stage.

  The scent of the stage’s timbers, the dust, the smell of the upholstery, the perfume that was the stage filled my nose. I closed my eyes and centered myself. Then, wanting to feel the joy of it for just a moment, I moved into first position then pirouetted across the stage. Grabbing my skirt and lifting it a bit to free my legs, I turned and danced a petit allegro. The joy I felt in the movements, the quick leaps, which I felt landed in perfect succession, filled my heart with joy.

  When I was finished, I smiled widely then exhaled deeply, my breath quickening at the task.

  I was taken by surprise, however, when applause came from the audience.

  I looked into the darkened theatre and spotted a gentleman wearing a green coat walking toward the stage.

  “Forgive me, Miss McKenna, isn’t it?” he asked, removing his top hat. “I was in the lobby when I realized I’d forgot
ten my walking stick,” he said, stepping into a row of seats to retrieve the stick. “I did not mean to intrude.”

  My cheeks flushed red. It was one thing to be seen on the stage when you were expecting it. It was quite another to dance, unbridled, legs over-exposed. Trying to hide my embarrassment, I smiled confidently, picked up my basket and headed down the steps into the house.

  “I’m afraid you have the better of me,” I said, curtseying politely when I met the gentleman mid-aisle.

  He bowed. “Lord John Waldegrave.”

  No, no elderly curmudgeon. A tall man about my age with reddish brown hair, soft brown eyes, and a very nice cut, Lord Waldegrave was a handsome young gentleman.

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Elyse McKenna. Shall we remove to the lobby? The lighting is dreadful here.” And it was very inappropriate to meet with his lordship in a darkened theatre.

  He nodded, and we headed toward the front of the house.

  “Miss McKenna, I am astounded at the range of your skills. I knew you to be a talented actress. I hadn’t known you were also gifted in ballet.”

  My cheeks reddened again. “I am not formally trained, sir. My grandmother, however, was a ballerina. She taught me.”

  “I must apologize for intruding again. But I must admit, it was a delight to watch. Do you perform ballet elsewhere?”

  “No,” I said, suddenly feeling embarrassed. In truth, it was tough to gain the attention of a larger, more famous company. I was settled with my troupe, but my heart still aspired higher.