Light Fantastique (28 page)

“I'm not trying to entertain you,” she snapped.

“Then you're not going to be a very interesting captive. And I know you have such a range of talent. How do you like my mirrors? They each have a different coating and surface texture to give you an altered appearance. Of course when I built the chamber, I anticipated it would just be for you, after this upcoming performance.”

“Why?”

“Because your mother owes me, and I was going to take that which is most precious to her. But don't worry, Mademoiselle, that will all be made clear in time. Meanwhile, I need for you to tell me what happened with Cobb once you met with him. Enough of the preamble.”

A slight odor came to Marie's nose, that of Cobb's tobacco, and she knew that wasn't all the spirit pumped into the room. “No,” she said. “I won't tell you anything unless you release Maestro Bledsoe.”

“Marie, no,” Johann said. “I won't leave you here. This man is mad.”

“I'm mad?” The spirit's voice floated into the chamber again. “Or perhaps you are to think you had a chance with her. You do realize she's spoiled goods.”

“Oh, now that's unnecessary,” Marie said. She struggled to keep her eyes open and slumped against one of the mirrors. Johann caught her and lowered her to the ground, where he supported her torso to recline against his.

I have to do something, keep him from pulling the information out of me. It's my only bargaining chip.

She thought about the mirrors, the facets of herself, and how the different roles pulled from her own characteristics. If there was anything everyone agreed upon, it was her stubbornness. What role had she played that meant she was focused and stubborn?

The ingenue, the one that drove Maurice mad. No, I can't do that one. I can't manipulate Johann like that.

“Do what you need to do,” he said. The weight on her head told her he was also slumping.

“You can try to get me to talk,” Marie heard herself saying, her voice younger and lighter, “but I refuse to do so on the grounds that I am my own woman, and I will not be manipulated by a man.”

Chapter Thirty

Théâtre Bohème, 5 December 1870

Pay attention
, Radcl
iffe had said. Johann couldn't be sure because he recognized he was under the influence of some sort of substance, but Marie felt lighter, and she sounded younger with all the stubbornness of a typical teen. Johann's mind drifted to the past in spite of his wanting to listen to the conversation. He remembered that attitude well from his own younger sister Lizbeth. She was probably married off by now to someone who would help increase the fortunes of the estate or its influence or—

“Very well, Mademoiselle,” the spirit said and broke through Johann's fog of memory and resentment. “You can stay there in the chamber while I see how the orchestra is getting on without Maestro Bledsoe, but be aware I will be back, and I will discover your secrets. I need something in your memories, and I refuse to think I have brought you along on this journey for nothing.”

Cool air blasted into the chamber, and Johann's eyelids released their vacuum-like grip on each other.

Edward would be proud of my scientific observations.

He dragged his lids open and ignored the urge to look around at the crowd of reflections. Only one thing mattered to him.

Marie appeared pale, and with her eyes closed and lips slightly pursed, she seemed young and innocent. He'd bedded many actresses, and they'd all had a hardness to them, but Marie was all soft strength, not bitter brittleness, no matter what she'd been through. He suspected that when—
if
, he corrected himself; he couldn't presume her feelings, and her willingness meant everything to him—they did come together, he would lose himself, his heart, to her. Her kisses, more addictive than opium, had shown him that, but he was willing to trust himself to her. Now if only he could get her to trust him.

He leaned over and kissed her. “Wake up, sleeping beauty. We have to figure out how to get out of here.”

“Mmmm.” She kissed him back and reached her arms around his neck. He buried his hands in her hair and ignored the ping of hairpins falling out. Why did actresses need so many pins in their hair? He relished the silky smoothness of it on his hands and wrists and the welcome openness of her mouth. He moved to pull her more firmly on top of him, and the light went out.

Marie pulled away and asked. “What happened?”

Johann moved his hands to the sides of her face to keep contact with her and enjoy the contours of her high cheekbones and the curve of her jaw. “I don't know whether that was intentional or accidental. Either way, it will be more difficult to get out of here if we can't see.”

“It would be impossible anyway. He's too good with building things.” She slumped against him, and he stroked her hair.

“There has to be something we can do. That I can do.”

She turned over and laid her head on his chest. “You can accept my offer to take your freedom and leave. The ghost doesn't care about you, only me.”

“Never. I'm not leaving without you.”

He tangled his fingers in her softly curling tresses, and she rewarded him with a contented sigh.

“You don't want me, anyway. As he said, I'm damaged goods, and I don't even know who I am half the time.”

Her tone was jesting, but the undercurrent of despair to her words echoed his own hopelessness about his family situation and what happened with the Clockwork Guild. He closed his eyes, not that it mattered in the dark, but he had to shove away the wall that rose between his mouth and heart.

“I never told you about what happened to put me in debt with the Clockwork Guild.”

An almost imperceptible shift in her posture told him he'd surprised her.

“No. You're very good at avoiding the topic.”

“Because I'm ashamed of what happened. I told you about my father and my brother, how they pressured me to go into something sensible to help the estate.”

“Yes, and how your musical talent wasn't useful to them. Such a waste.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Even after I succeeded, the pressure didn't stop. He kept telling me I was foolish, that I could still take control of parts of the estate my brother wasn't interested in. As if I should be honored to take his leftovers.”

“And you couldn't leave.”

“No, not completely. You more than anyone know how hard it is to escape the influence of an overbearing parent, no matter how far away you are.”

She made an unladylike sound. “What in the world gives you that idea?”

He laughed. “You've picked up Iris's expression. But yes, he started to use his influence to keep me from getting paying musical jobs, and he cut off what little income I was getting from my one corner of our property. I had to show him I was too irresponsible to manage the estate. First I made sure my own reputation as a rake would keep his business associates from taking me seriously, but it backfired.”

“Let me guess—that helped you with them.”

He wanted to kiss away the despair in her voice, but he continued. “Yes, some of them had the nerve to ask for introductions to some of my friends. Most men are cads.”

“That I also know too well.”

“So then I had to show I wasn't to be trusted with money, and I started gambling.” Saying the words made his stomach turn like he'd eaten a bad cream puff. How could he have been so stupid? “And once you enter that world, you cannot leave it unless you go far away or die. I thought I controlled my risk, but I drank too much one night and overshot, although whiskey had never affected me like that before.”

“Was that the first time you'd gambled with the Clockwork Guild?”

“Yes, it was a secret club. I had only just gained entrance.”

Marie pulled away, and he reached for her, only to find she leaned up so she could turn her face to his. She kissed him on the lips, but instead of passion, it held sympathy.

“That's how he snared you. Cobb, I mean. He knew he had to get to you to get to Edward and go after the Eros Element.”

“And everything was choreographed from that point on.” Although he hated the man, Johann had to admire Cobb. The American was even more ruthless than Johann's father and a much better puppet master. Perhaps he was even involved to some extent in the siege of Paris, although that seemed to stretch the boundaries of possibility.

“So what do we do?” Marie asked. “We can't escape Cobb if we can't get out of this mess. You have to go get help.”

Johann held her tight to him. “And I told you, I'm not going to leave you. I trust you with my secret. Whatever you have to tell the madman, it will not change my opinion of you. I love you, Marie, no matter what you've done, and we'll get out of this together.”

Marie scooted out of Johann's arms. “That's not you talking, that's whatever was in the smoke.” Her heartbeat fluttered in her throat like a caged bird that feels the door might be opening to freedom. But at what cost? Yes, he'd revealed his past to her, and she sympathized, but he'd only gone too far with his money, not his body and self. Plus he had used other women, other actresses, to do so.

The old doubts crept in. Did he truly love
her
or was he attracted to who he thoug
ht she was because he was picking up on her talent? And what about when the siege lifted? Even if he wanted to stay, he would have to continue to run from the Guild until he could scrape up enough money to pay them back.

Her mind whirled like a panicked bird now banging back and forth between the bars of hope and despair.

That doesn't even make sense. But what does it matter?

The muffled thunk of a door closing somewhere outside the chamber made her still, and the hiss of gas alerted her to cover her eyes before the bulb illuminated the chamber with a thousand flickering, mocking lights. Although weak, they made her scrunch her eyes behind her hands.

“So I find the two of you not in each others' arms,” the ghost said. “That's promising, for the orchestra isn't the same without your expert leadership, Maestro. I am willing to let you go in exchange for something.”

“I'm not leaving without her,” Johann said simultaneously with Marie asking, “What?”

They glared at each other.

The ghost's low chuckle echoed through the room. “And so we disagree. I will release him if you tell me about that first fateful meeting with Cobb.”

“I will do what you ask if he can go,” Marie said and then mouthed,
“Get help.”

“No,” Johann grasped her arms and whispered, “What if he gases you again and you don't wake up? I saw you that one night. I was terrified you wouldn't come out of it.”

His words brought Marie back to the vision of that episode. Whereas her memories previously had had the fog of trauma obscuring them from full recollections, having dreamed it brought back all the details and confirmed her suspicion now that she had her memory and the man side-by-side.

“The man in the carriage!” She turned to where she thought the voice came from, although it was difficult to pinpoint exactly. “You were the man in Cobb's carriage, the one who wanted my help getting something back from him. What was it? Was it some sort of design for a machine?”

“Ah, Mademoiselle, you have found me out.” A light flickered behind one of the mirrors, showing the man, still masked. Johann reared a hand back to smash it, but Marie caught it and twisted it behind his arm.

“I forgot about your strength,” he ground out. “You can let off a little.”

A bitter laugh bubbled up from her gut. “Most people do. You won't do anyone any good if you can't play.”

Johann struggled against her grip. “But he's just on the other side of the glass. I can get to him.”

“No, let's bargain,” she said. “I think I know what he wants.”

“And what is that, Mademoiselle?” The spirit sneered through the words.

“That night in the hotel, I looked through Cobb's things,” she said.

“And do you recall what you saw?” Now the man sounded interested.

“No, not in any great detail. I remember the evening's events more than the setting.”

“You need to go into the memory. If you do, I will release you.”

Johann turned, and Marie let him go. “Send her to her dressing room and let me be there with her.”

“No,” Marie said.
I can keep him from knowing the full extent of my shame. It's bad enough the spirit will find out.

“Yes,” Johann said. “That way I can make sure he doesn't kidnap you while you are insensible.”

“I am willing if you are, Mademoiselle. I trust your word.”

Marie nodded. “I'll cooperate.”

A mirror on the other side of the chamber lowered, and a dark square joined their reflections and that of the inventor. Her lamp sat just beyond.

“That goes back to the passage you came through and to your dressing room. Go on. I will follow with my revolver in case you think about running.”

Marie didn't waste any time. She grabbed Johann's hand and dragged him through the corridor after picking up the lamp, which gave off a weak glow.

“Do you think he'll allow us to escape?” Johann murmured.

“I don't know.” Then a terrifying notion occurred to her. “I only hope that Edward and Mister O'Connell aren't working on the aether lighting system. The inventor is already unpredictable.”

Johann squeezed her hand. “I won't leave you, no matter what.”

They reached a wall of glass, and Marie saw her dressing room just beyond. She looked behind her and saw the spirit with his gun in one hand and a strange-looking lantern in the other. He set the lantern on the floor and moved a lever on the wall, which caused the glass pane to lower soundlessly to the floor. Before she and Johann stepped through, the spirit handed Johann a mask.

“It will filter out the smoke for you, Monsieur.”

“Thank you.”

They walked into the dressing room, and Johann headed for the door, but the ghost's voice stilled him.

“Don't even think of it, Monsieur. This glass is not bullet-proof, and she will perish if you try to escape before I get what I need.”

“I gave my word,” Marie added. “He can trust me.”

The brief hunch that came to Johann's shoulders told Marie that he'd taken her words the wrong way, that he thought she implied he wasn't trustworthy. With a sigh, she laid on the chaise lounge.

“Please come sit beside me,” she said. He pulled the stool over from the dressing table and sat beside her, her hand in his.

This time when she smelled the smoke and the familiar feelings of lethargy overtook her, she had an anchor to the present and to safety, at least until she revealed her shame.