Night Storm (8 page)

“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 weep; 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?”

Stepping away, Piper swiped her hands down her rumpled skirts. “You startled me, is all.”

He bowed with a flourish. “I’m Christopher Gordon, an actor at this fair establishment. Of course, you probably surmised as much. My present garb is a bit of a giveaway.”

His antics elicited the desired effect. Piper smiled. “Indeed.”

Lifting her hand to his lips, he asked, “May I know your name, fair damsel?”

“Christopher,” a husky feminine voice intruded. “Introduce me to your new friends.” A beautiful, svelte, mahogany-haired young woman sidled up next to the actor, close enough to indicate they had a much more intimate relationship than that of mere colleagues. She wore a deep sapphire dress trimmed with white lace and black ribbon. On anyone else, especially at this time of the day, the ensemble would look garish. But not on this woman. Charlotte suspected she could wear a burlap sack with enough confidence and cleavage to make it fashionable.

The actor’s roguish smile faltered the slightest bit before he straightened and released Piper’s hand. “You caught me in the midst of trying to ascertain the identity of our visitors.” He lifted the beauty’s hand and draped it over his forearm. “Miss Vivian Keighley.”

Charlotte stepped forward. “A pleasure to meet you both. I’m Mrs. Fielding and this is Miss Scott. Please forgive us for having disturbed you. We’d best be on our way.”

“Nonsense. Although Mr. Riordan would disagree, we love hosting visitors backstage. Don’t we, my dear?”

Miss Keighley smiled, and Charlotte noticed her violet eyes for the first time. The actress turned them on Piper, and something indefinable sparkled within their depths. “Scott? Any relation to our budding actor Felix?”

“Sister,” Piper said.

“I would never have guessed,” Miss Keighley said. “Your coloring is so much more bold and exotic than your fair-haired brother’s.”

“Felix took after my father.”

“How unlucky for him.”

An awkward silence fell over the group. The actress continued to smile at Piper, unfazed. When Charlotte glanced at Mr. Gordon, she found his brandy-colored eyes on her.

“Well, if you’ll excuse us,” Charlotte began. “We’ll be on our—”

“Piper! Mrs. Fielding,” Felix interrupted. He trotted up to them, his mouth stretched into a wide grin. Peter followed in his wake.

“Did you see my audition?” Felix asked, his bright gaze snapping between Charlotte and Piper.

“We wouldn’t have missed it,” Piper said. “You were amazing. You’ll be the lead actor here in no time.”

He lifted his eyebrows in surprise, shooting Christopher Gordon an uncomfortable glance. “I have a long way to go before reaching Mr. Gordon’s level.”

“Don’t be so modest,” the actor said. “I listened in on your practice sessions and caught the end of your monologue. You have talent, and Riordan obviously noticed.”

Felix stammered out, “T-thank you, sir.”

“They’re right, Felix,” Charlotte said. “Your performance left me spellbound and speechless.”

Not used to such praise, especially in front of an audience, Felix’s coloring soon matched the red in his Roman costume.

“Pardon me,” Peter said. “Mr. Gordon, the manager’s been asking for you.”

Gordon bowed. “Ladies, if you will excuse us.”

Before turning to escort Gordon into the theater, Peter gave Charlotte a meaningful time-to-leave look.

“Good day, Mr. Gordon. Miss Keighley. Peter.” Charlotte waited for the trio to depart before turning to Felix again. “We should go as well.”