West of Paradise (13 page)

Chapter Eighteen
Carmen

K
atherine surveyed herself in the mirror, a slow smile spreading over her lips. The glass might not be the best quality but the gown was definitely fabulous. The ivory silk suited her complexion, and the shoes matched perfectly, being silver and sporting pink rosettes on the heel. A silk shawl and gloves completed the outfit.

She wondered what the opera would be like, here, now. She had no idea. And Will was of no help whatsoever. He had been reluctant to even consider the idea.

“The opera? What the hell you wanna go see one of them for?”

She couldn’t very well tell him the truth; that she had only seen modern day opera. So instead she suggested the possibility of seeing Alanna, reminding him of all the places they had been since they’d arrived and the places they had yet to investigate.

“She could be anywhere, Will, and you said she liked entertainment. We haven’t been to the opera yet.”

He’d given her a doubtful look.

“Oh, don’t be such a stick in the mud,” Katherine said, remembering one of the expressions Miss Adjani had mentioned. “You might enjoy it.”

“Doubt it.”

And he was probably right; Will wasn’t the opera type. A bawdy play, perhaps, boxing maybe, cock fighting certainly. But not the opera. Nevertheless, she talked him into it, and even bought him a new suit for the occasion, which he hadn’t wanted to wear either. But he looked good in it, and as long as he didn’t say much no one would know he wasn’t a gentleman.

His eyes widened a little when he saw her, his gaze traveling lazily from head to toe. “You look good,” he said with a grin.

“Thank you. It’s nice to be wearing something other than black.”

They left shortly, finding a cab waiting in the street below, which took them directly to the theater. All Katherine could do was stare.

Never had she seen so many exquisitely dressed people, some alighting from their cabs, others walking up the steps toward the brightly lit lobby, and still more walking down the gas lit streets. She could hear the ladies’ heels tapping against cobbles, the low chuckles of their men, and their high dainty laughter in response. They wore silk and muslin and lace threaded with seed pearls. They wore diamonds at their throats and heavy gold earrings. They carried little beaded reticules and wore matching gloves that came up past their elbows.

“You’re gawking,” Will said in a low voice, waiting to hand her down.

“So I am.”

Inside the theater was crowded, and Katherine lagged while her eyes roamed over the dazzling array of fashion. Will gently tugged her along to their seats, which were slightly above the stage.

Katherine had season tickets to the Met and had seen many operas, but never
Carmen
. She had an old Blu-ray but watching opera live was an entirely different experience than sitting on your comfy couch with a glass of wine and the remote.

And when finally Carmen stepped on stage, Katherine could only sigh and smile as she teased and flirted, slinking about the stage in her glimmering orange blouse and violet skirt, her feet bare and ankles showing. She wore silver bangles on her wrists and they sang as she moved from one man to the next, promising. Katherine glanced over at Will who, despite the fact that everyone was singing in a language he probably didn’t know, was watching quite attentively for a man who claimed to have no interest in opera. So was everyone else it seemed, Katherine found, taking a nonchalant look around the theater.

The place was huge and acoustically better than she would’ve guessed. It was lavishly decorated and while the seats might be stuffed with horsehair they were well quilted and covered in the softest gold velvet. The costumes were amazing in light of the limitations of the time, Katherine thought, admiring the soldiers’ dress, their smart blue and gold coats and polished boots. And there was Mikaela again, dressed in a serene blue gown with a white blouse and a bright, robin’s egg blue apron. As for Don José, well, he was a bit older, and portly, but oh my, what a voice! Katherine could’ve lost herself in that voice.

And she did, until Will gave her arm a pinch and jerked his head off to his right. It took her a moment to understand and slowly she glanced in the direction he’d indicated.

“Upper right balcony,” Will whispered.

Katherine drew her breath in sharply. There she was. The object of their desire, her glossy hair wound in a loose chignon, diamonds sparkling at her ears and throat. She wore a gown of shimmering silver, a beaded hat with black feathers, and a fan at her wrist. There was no mistaking her for anyone else.

Katherine was horrified. It was like looking at herself.

Will pinched her again, and she realized she’d been staring. Quickly she faced the stage and focused her attention on the players and the music, most of it familiar. But whatever charm Carmen had held was gone now, spoiled by the knowledge that Alanna McLeod was so close. Katherine wanted to march right up to the box and drag her down to the nearest authority. But she dug her nails into the palms of her hand and waited until the performance was over.

It took forever. Will fidgeted at her side and it was all she could do not to join him in tapping against the arm of her chair. But at last the players took their bows and Katherine tugged Will out to the lobby, wanting to be there before Alanna came down so they could find out where she went. Will needed little encouragement. He broke the way for her through the crowd and they were soon outside once again, standing just beyond the entrance in the sultry summer air.

“There she is,” Will said a few minutes later. Katherine spotted her immediately, walking arm in arm with a gentleman toward a tall black coach.

“We need to follow her,” Katherine said.

Will hailed one of the waiting cabs and they were soon rattling across town after the black coach which wound around the Common and up into Beacon Hill, stopping in Louisburg Square.

Katherine caught a glimpse of Alanna stepping down as they went by.

“Number 12,” Will said.

❧

Jack sat back in his coach and allowed himself a single long swallow from the silver flask in his jacket, his reward for waiting. He had, admittedly, wondered if Donald Braden had been truthful when he said where Katherine and Will were going. But sure enough there they were, Will in his suit and Katherine in a fancy gown like something Alanna would’ve worn. They even had the same walk. As the last of the day’s light ended, Jack prepared for a long wait.

He perked up almost three hours later as the theater began to empty, watching intently for a flash of pink. But it was silver that caught his eye, and he tapped on the hood for George’s attention.

“Follow that black coach,” he said, leaning out the open window.

George gave the reins a mild shake, rousing the horses. They were quickly off, making a wide U-turn and following the black coach up into Beacon Hill, to number 12 Louisburg Square. Alanna alighted and was walked up to the door by the well-dressed gentleman. They entered and did not come out.

Jack gave George a tap-tapping on the roof, a pre-arranged signal to park, which George did, finding a spot across the square beneath a huge elm.

❧

“You want to go in there now?” Katherine asked. “Right now?”

“Why not? She’ll be surprised.”

Katherine hesitated, not sure if she was ready for this, unprepared to confront her nemesis so soon. She had thought it would take longer, give her time to devise a strategy that ended happily for everyone—especially her. But Will was right. Surprise was on their side.

“All right,” she agreed reluctantly, feeling a shiver of dread run up her spine. After all, Alanna was
her
distant relative and Katherine was sure that confronting her was exactly the sort of thing she wasn’t supposed to do.

But what choice did she have? It was either Alanna or her.

Will rapped on the hood, and the driver soon had his new instructions, which involved circling the square once more before letting them off at the end of the lane. It was dark and quiet as expected at such a late hour. Katherine guessed it to be well past midnight, possibly later.

She took Will’s arm and they walked up the brick path to the door. Will put his finger to his lips but Katherine hardly dared to breathe let alone speak. Will reached into his jacket and the muffled sound of metal caught her ears. A moment later he was using whatever instruments he had to unlock the door and slip inside, pulling her with him.

The hallway was dark, even darker than outside, which at least had the light of the moon and stars above. There was no light here, just shadows upon shadows, but as her eyes adjusted Katherine began to differentiate between them.

Will still held her hand as she followed him silently up the stairs to the second floor landing, where a sliver of light glowed under a closed door. He paused and put his ear to the door, listening.

Katherine listened, too, but she couldn’t hear anything.

Will let go of her hand. “I’m going to knock.”

“Are you crazy?”

But he was already rapping his knuckles on the wood, hard.

Footsteps approached immediately and the door was flung open, light filling the small space.

“Well, if it isn’t Will Cushing.”

“You,” Will said, surprised.

Katherine caught a glimpse of a handsomely dressed man in the doorway before a loud noise made her jump and lose her balance on the stairs. She grabbed for the banister, and from inside the sound of a child crying rose up and then a woman’s voice, a familiar voice that reminded Katherine of her mother.

When she looked up it was her face in the doorway, her twin dressed in brown poplin. There was a child on her hip, face pressed against her bosom. But it was the gun Katherine noticed next, half hidden in the folds of Alanna’s gown, a long-barreled pistol.

Katherine didn’t move, frozen to the spot, as if someone had hit pause. A second loud bang snapped her attention back to Will, and he toppled back against the wall, letting loose a muffled grunt as he collapsed. Instinctively she went for him, reaching.

Katherine flinched as two more shots rang out. Will slumped in the stairwell. She tried to pull him into a sitting position but pain blossomed in her thigh and she realized then it was her. She had been shot.

A dark spot began to spread across her dress, soaking the fine fabric in deep crimson. Then her legs gave way and she crumpled with a surprised gasp. On the step above her Will lay in a heap, not moving. She tried to get up, but the second she put any weight on it her leg it felt like someone was jamming something sharp and hot into it.

“I want to see her . . .”

“Forget it. She’ll be dead soon,” the man’s voice said, harsh and cold.

“I need to see . . .”

Footsteps came down, the heavy heel of a man’s boot followed by the softer tread of a woman’s step.

“Is he dead?”

“Yes.”

Fingers reached down to force Katherine’s head up, making her look into eyes as blue as her own.

“You,” she whispered.

Alanna’s eyes widened for an instant before narrowing. The man at her side took her gloved hand and pulled her along.

“We need to go. Now!”

Alanna made a sharp reply but by that time Katherine was drifting, and she was almost gone when another voice, one she knew, called her name. She opened her eyes. “Jack.”

She tried to move, and might have succeeded if Jack hadn’t pushed her back against the wall, gently, holding her there. And she realized he had her skirts pushed up and his hand on her thigh, applying pressure.

“Oh, shit, Jack,” she muttered. “That hurts.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“How bad is it?”

“Stay still a moment longer. I think I’ve got the bleeding stopped. Then we can go.”

Katherine grimaced at the pain, wishing she still felt nothing. Her gaze drifted up to the top of the stairwell where Will lay broken and still.

“Is he . . . ?”

“Dead,” Jack confirmed.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed, feeling sick.

“Mourn later,” Jack said, helping her to her feet. “We need to go, now.”

A small whimper escaped her and she stumbled forward, losing her balance. Jack caught her, putting an arm about her waist and relieving her of some of her own weight.

“Jesus . . .” she gasped.

“Hurts, doesn’t it,” Jack said, helping her down the stairs. “I know.”

“It wasn’t me . . .” she mumbled.

“Oh, I know that now. That’s why I’m here.”

“You didn’t have to. . . .”

“No, I didn’t,” Jack agreed. “But be glad I did; otherwise you’d be dead.”

His eyes flicked at Will and Katherine blinked away tears. “He didn’t deserve that,” she said.

“Sure you’re not Alanna?”

Katherine didn’t say anything, not right away, but before they reached the landing she told him. “I don’t think it was Alanna who killed him. There was someone else, a man.”

“What man?” Jack paused, looking at her.

Katherine shrugged. “I don’t know. I only saw him for an instant. He was . . . well-groomed, neat mustache. I think he was with her at the opera.”

Jack frowned. “Huh, I wonder who it was. Did she call him anything?”

“Hmm, maybe . . . Some endearment, I think. Why?”

Jack shook his head. “I don’t know.” He started down the stairs, still holding her close, and they soon reached the bottom. Jack opened the door a sliver and peered out to the street.

“Damn.”

“What?”

“Lights and lots of them. The neighbors must’ve heard the shots. Hide your face against me as we walk out. Best no one gets a good a look at you.”

He opened the door to the street and Katherine turned her face into him.

“I’ve got a carriage waiting,” he said, leading her across the street to a boxy coach with a single horse hitched to the front. There was a man sitting up front wearing a bowler pulled low, a loose coat, and dark trousers. He touched the rim of his hat as they approached but never said a word.

Jack opened the door and helped Katherine inside before climbing in after her.

“How are you doing?” he asked her.

Katherine leaned against the leather seat, feeling sick and cold. As the cab lurched forward she almost retched. She waited until she was sure she wouldn’t before answering.

“I don’t know, Jack, I don’t feel so good. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“What question was that?”

“How bad is it?”

“Hard to tell,” Jack said, “but I’m sure you’ll be fine. Removing a bullet is pretty straightforward.”

He didn’t say anything more and she turned her face away, gritting her teeth every time the cab hit a pot hole or a loose stone. She could feel her dress sticking to her leg and she knew it was her own blood, some of it still wet, still seeping. She shivered, cold even though it was warm outside, and there was a grating ache that seemed to push and pull at the same time.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“My house,” Jack said.

Katherine nodded and turned her face to the glass, pushing the curtains aside. It was darker than any place she could remember, not withstanding the gas lights that offered the occasional pool of yellow light. Nevertheless, she caught glimpses of the city they passed through; the lampposts tall and straight, two dogs pulling at something, and traffic even at this late hour, ranging from boxy carriages like the one she rode in to lively little surreys. She could hear the clatter of their wheels over the cobbles, the hooves of the horses.

Then it all blended together, faded into the background, dreamlike. She heard Jack say her name, felt his hand on her forehead, but as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t find the strength or the words to answer.