Ten minutes and four bruised knuckles later, the door finally opened and Peter Stephenson emerged in the passageway. Of medium height and stocky build, Peter performed a number of tasks at the theater, which made him an excellent person to help them find an unobtrusive hiding spot.
“Apologies, Mrs. Fielding,” Peter said, chest heaving as if he had been running. “Have you been knocking long? One of the lads needed help with a heavy prop.”
“Not at all,” Charlotte lied. “Peter, this is Piper Scott. Felix’s sister. We were beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten us.”
He glanced between Charlotte and Piper, lingering on her assistant a telling moment longer. “Sorry, Mrs. Fielding. With this being the first call for auditions, everyone needs something or another. I haven’t stopped moving for hours.”
Peter appeared tightly coiled, ready to bolt. He shifted from foot to foot and couldn’t seem to stop from peering over his shoulder.
“Is everything else all right?”
Raking a hand through his dark red hair, he lowered his voice, “Mr. Riordan’s a bit…agitated today.”
“Does that mean we won’t be able to see my brother’s audition?” Piper asked.
“No,” he said quickly. “We have to be extra careful to keep you out of his sight, is all. I want to do right by you, Mrs. Fielding, but I can’t lose this job.”
“Understood, Peter. We’ll take extra care.”
Warily, he nodded. “Follow me, ma’am. Miss.”
Charlotte followed, her mind more on Peter’s odd behavior than on seeing Felix. His reaction to the theater manager’s mood carried an edge of fear rather than concern. Though she wouldn’t want to get the stagehand in trouble, she almost wished she’d run into the manager to see why one gentleman’s bad day could affect his staff in such an emotional way.
Peter guided them around crates, wooden rows of turbulent imitation seawater, and twelve-foot-high Roman columns. He paused at a wrought-iron spiral staircase, eyeing their narrow skirts. “If you don’t think you can make it up these stairs, we have a regular staircase farther back.”
“How is the view from this one, Peter?”
“About halfway up, you can see the entire stage and audience.”
“Oh, can we, Mrs. Fielding?”
“I’m up for the challenge if you are,” Charlotte said in what she hoped was a convincing voice.
“Brilliant!”
“Why don’t you follow Peter up?” Not one for heights, Charlotte had no intention of allowing anyone, including Piper, to witness her undignified climb. One, two, three, four…
For the first twenty-four steps, she looked neither left nor right or down, but kept her focus trained one step above her head. Then Piper whispered, “I can see why Felix loves it here so much. It’s all so grand.”
An enormous red curtain sporting gold tassels at the bottom opened, revealing the dark wooden planks of the main stage and rows of matching colored benches. Five balconies stacked one on top of the other rose to mind-boggling heights. At the crest of Gothic-style arches loomed an intricately carved dome.
Charlotte had frequented theaters before, but none this majestic. Every inch of the Augusta was a feast for the eyes. “Indeed, Piper.”
“We’re almost there,” Peter cut in.
The rest of the climb was near unbearable, and Charlotte wanted desperately to swivel around every few feet. She dared not. One wrong move could cause her head to swim and her world to tilt. She would not survive a fall from the distance. Forty-six, forty-seven—
“Here we are, Mrs. Fielding.” Peter held out a hand to assist her from the last step.
Relief swept through her—until she looked down. Her grip tightened on his hand. She saw his brows scrunch in confusion. Then he saw something in her expression and pulled her hand through the crook of his elbow, not releasing her as he guided them to two box crates overlooking the main stage.
Once she was seated, the tension slowly ebbed. “Thank you, Peter.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am. I’m sorry I can’t offer you better seats.”
“Oh, Peter,” Piper chimed in. “These seats are lovely. I can see the entire stage from here.”
They sat two levels above the stage, amid thick ropes, bull’s-eye lanterns, jangling pulleys, and narrow catwalks. Activity bustled all around them. Charlotte had failed to notice the hum of activity before now, with her thoughts so focused on surviving the next step up. But even with the excited shouts, clacking heels against wood, and other noises Charlotte could not identify, their private niche felt worlds apart from it all.
“Piper’s right,” she said. “This is absolutely perfect.”
The stagehand’s face took on the same reddish hue as his hair. “I’ll send Felix up for you once his audition is over.”
Piper laid a hand on the young man’s sleeve. “Thank you, Peter.”
“Any time, Miss Piper.”
Two rather flimsy-looking wood railings separated their niche from a two-story fall. Piper rested her forearms on the top railing and peered way over to get the best advantage. Charlotte fisted her hands in her lap, holding back a motherly scold. When Piper’s bum came out of her seat, Charlotte’s control snapped. “Piper, for the sake of my nerves, would you please stay on this side of that less-than-substantial barrier you’re leaning on?”
Her assistant’s eyes sparkled. “I had no notion heights affected you so.”
“That is because there’s never been an occasion for me to reveal such weakness.”
“I don’t consider it a weakness. Everyone is unnerved by something.”
Charlotte did her level best not to smile at the mature quality to Piper’s statement. “Oh? What unnerves you?”
“Cockroaches.” Her whole body shuddered. “Nasty, sneaky little creatures. I cannot bear to be in the same room with them—not even to eradicate them.”
Charlotte chuckled. “In that, I cannot blame you. I have a similar aversion to mice.”
A hum of anxious murmurs sounded from below. Moments later, a silent group of men and women of various ages marched single file to the middle of the stage. Each of them carried a single sheet of paper. Charlotte spotted Felix’s mop of blond at the end of the line. Only one other among the group appeared to be his age.
As if reading her thoughts, Piper asked, “Do you think he’s up against only one other actor for the part?”
“I’m guessing as much.”
One by one they turned toward the audience. Some wore confident expressions, some wore arrogant expressions. Most seemed ready to bolt. Felix appeared a little scared, but determined.
A smartly dressed gentleman strolled with quick, sure strides onto the stage. “Welcome to the Augusta Theatre. For those who don’t know me, I’m Mr. Riordan, the manager here.”
With his hands behind his back, he paused center stage. “We are in the final stages of casting for The Sacred Tree, with only three more characters left to cast. When it is your turn on stage, wait for our instructions and begin with your prepared monologue. There will be a brief moment of silence as we talk among ourselves. You may be asked to do a passage from your sheet, or you may be asked to leave.” He walked the line, assessing each actor or would-be actor with a critical eye. “If you do not get a part in this production and wish to try for another later on, accept our decision graciously and exit the stage. Argue with us at your peril. Understood?”
“Yes, Mr. Riordan,” the group said in unison.
Charlotte eyed the manager, wondering what it was about him that had worried Peter. Although the gentleman was direct in his approach, she detected nothing in his manner to cause alarm.
“Now that we have that unpleasantness out of the way, shall we begin?” He didn’t wait for their response. “Mr. Waters, you’re up first. Begin when you’re ready.” The manager trotted down a set of short stairs leading to the benches in the audience. There, he joined two other gentlemen.
The low lighting and
distance prevented Charlotte from distinguishing their features or, in fact, recognizing either man. However, she couldn’t help but notice how the two men faded into insignificance when faced with the manager’s commanding presence.
A gentleman in his mid-thirties remained on the stage while the others filed out. “My name is Edward Waters and I’ll be reading from Henry the Sixth, act five, scene six.” He cleared his throat and lifted his hand. “Richard.”
What will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.
See how my sword weeps for the poor King’s death,
O, may such purple tears be always shed
From those that wish the downfall of our house!
Four more would-be actors followed Mr. Waters, each taking their place on the stage. During an excruciating long and unsteady monologue from Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, Peter reappeared in their lofty viewing stand, his expression filled with panic. “Have you seen Felix, ma’am?”
Charlotte straightened in her seat. “Only when he first appeared on the stage with everyone else twenty minutes ago. Why? What is the matter?”
“He’s up next, and no one can find him.” Peter started back down the stairs.
“Wait,” Charlotte called, her heart racing. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
“If he shows up here, have him report backstage. Immediately.”
“Of course, Peter.” Charlotte watched the stagehand rush back down the stairs, then turned to Piper. “Where on Earth could he have gone?”
“I’ve no idea. Do you think we should help him search for Felix?”
Charlotte’s palms itched with the need to do something more than sit and wait. “We don’t know this building well. Where could we look that Peter wouldn’t have already tried?” She forced calm into her voice and sat back. “I’m sure he’s suffering from a bout of nerves and merely stepped outside for a bracing breath of air.”
Following Charlotte’s lead, Piper slowly eased back into her own chair, though her shoulders remained rigid. “I hope you’re right. Felix has been looking forward to this audition for days.”
They sat in tense silence for fifteen unbearably long minutes. Charlotte no longer heard what was going on down below. All her concentration followed the horrid scenes her overactive mind conjured—Felix alone and incapacitated by a nervous stomach, Felix lying below an open trap door, Felix hanging from—Charlotte popped up from her seat. “I cannot sit here any longer. Come, Piper, let’s go find your brother.”
Piper was at her side in less than a blink. “Oh, thank goodness. I was near to exploding with the need to do something.”
Charlotte’s feet began the descent down the circular staircase; her hands skimmed down the railing with equal fervor. A few seconds later, the theater manager’s voice cut through the din of her heels clicking against the wrought iron staircase.
“Mr. Scott. So glad you could finally join us.”
Charlotte halted, as did Piper. Their breaths sawed through the air as they both strained to listen.
“My apologies, Mr. Riordan,” Felix said. “I had a bit of trouble with my costume.”
“Don’t be late on my stage again, Mr. Scott.”
“Yes, sir.”
Glancing up, Charlotte caught Piper’s long exhale. She understood the young woman’s relief. Her own body sagged as her tension faded away.
As she paused on the staircase, awareness of her surroundings crept along the edge of her consciousness, second by second. Her fingers clutched at the cold iron railing, and her backside pressed against the steep staircase. She was unable to go up or down.
In her concern for Felix’s safety, she had blocked out everything but locating him—including her aversion of heights. But now, without that distraction, her fear had returned tenfold. Facing downward was far worse than the ascent. Everything below looked so small from this distance. Her world began to spin, and she closed her eyes to stave off her disorientation.
“Mrs. Fielding, are you all right?” Piper asked.
“Give me a moment.” Her assistant must have heard the quaver in Charlotte’s voice for she eased down several stairs until she could squeeze in next to her.
“I’ve got you,” Piper whispered. “You’re only ten stairs from the top. I can help you down or we can go back up and watch Felix’s audition. The stage is rather quiet right now. I think Mr. Riordan is exacting a bit of punishment for Felix’s tardiness.”
Charlotte could not miss Felix’s special moment. Unfortunately, the small balcony above them was the only place where they could safely watch his audition. She drew in a deep inhalation and opened her eyes, though she did not look down. “Help me back up, please.”
With soft coaxing words and gentle nudges, Piper managed to twist her around and encourage her upward, step by step. Her legs shook and sweat drenched her palms. To her great humiliation, the only way she managed the journey was to crawl on her hands and feet. A rather difficult achievement in a narrow skirt.
She could imagine no greater relief than when her bottom finally plopped down on her chair’s seat. Pulling a handkerchief from her reticule, she blotted beads of perspiration from her face and neck, then using the flimsy linen to fan herself.
Glancing at Piper sitting next to her, she said, “Thank you.”
“You’re rather white, Mrs. Fielding. Shall I get you something to drink?”
Charlotte produced a sheepish smile. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be fine in a moment. Perhaps we’ll find the other set of stairs Peter spoke of when we’re ready to head down.”
“Of course.” Piper peered over the wooden railing. Her mouth gaped open. “Look at him.”
Easing forward, Charlotte peered down at the stage. Rather than perform his monologue in his regular garments, Felix came resplendent in a stunning red and gold Roman costume. He wore a long flowing red cloak embellished with gold thread, sturdy arm guards, a worn leather apron sectioned into strips that hung to his knees, a short-sleeved red tunic beneath it all, and leather-strapped sandals.
He looked fresh off a Roman conquest. All he needed was a sword, a helmet, and a few spatters of blood. The outlandish costume suited him, somehow. The masculine lines and bold colors of his outfit revealed a side of him that she would never have guessed existed.
“Mr. Scott,” Mr. Riordan called. “What will you be sharing with us this afternoon?”
“J-Julius Caesar, sir.” Like many others, Felix cleared his throat. “Act three, scene two. A passage by Marc Antony.”
“Proceed.”
“Thank you, sir.” Felix’s chin rose and his chest expanded.
If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle: I remember
The first time ever Caesar put it on;
’Twas on a summer’s evening, in his tent,
That day he overcame the Nervii:
Look, in this place ran Cassius’ dagger through:
See what a rent the envious Casca made:
Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb’d’
And as he pluck’d his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Caesar follow’d it,
If Brutus so unkindly knock’d, or no;
For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar’s angel:
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all;
For when the noble Caesar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors’ arms,
Quite vanquish’d him: then burst his mighty heart;
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey’s statua,
Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell.
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourish’d over us.
O, now you we
ep; and, I perceive, you feel
The dint of pity: these are gracious drops.
Kind souls, what, weep you when you but behold
Our Caesar’s vesture wounded? Look you here,
Here is himself, marr’d as you see, with traitors.
Piper snapped up and started to applaud her brother’s performance. Charlotte laid a staying hand on her assistant’s arm. In the ensuing silence, Charlotte’s heart thundered in her ears. She could still feel the powerful emotion behind Felix’s words. His monologue had started low and calm, then built steadily line after line, falling off to a near whisper toward the end.
Twice today, pride had overflowed in her heart. Piper and Felix continued to challenge themselves in very different ways—Piper with her entrepreneurial determination, and Felix with his thespian performance.
Gripping Charlotte’s hand, Piper remained standing, waiting, along with her brother. Charlotte found herself barely breathing while the trio in the first row decided Felix’s fate.
“Mr. Scott, please read the first passage on your sheet.”
Charlotte jumped up and hugged Piper. They bounced up and down on their tiptoes, like two little girls ready for their first pony ride, while listening to Felix’s second monologue. When he finished, Charlotte said, “Let’s go.”
Piper nodded, and they made their slow way down to ground level, having located the wider staircase. Charlotte had never enjoyed the feel of terra firma as much as she did when she descended that last step.
“Oh!”
Charlotte jerked her attention away from her feet to where Piper stood with her face buried in a gentleman’s chest.
“Pardon me.” Dressed in a bold, overembellished Elizabethan costume, the handsome, dark-haired actor peered down at Piper with obvious appreciation. “I didn’t mean to cut the corner quite so short. Are you all right, miss?”
Night Storm (Bones & Gemstones Book 1) Page 6