When the Curtain Rises (8 page)

Bess snorted. “He was persistent, all right. He wore her down—what else could she say?”

“Oh, Bess,” said Kitty, “you know very well that Magdala was happy at the beginning. They both were. Their love was real.”

“And when were you born?” Chloe asked.

“In 1912,” said Bess. “No one knew Magdala was pregnant with twins. Kitty shocked everyone when she emerged right after me.”

“And I've been shocking people ever since,” Kitty told Chloe with a wink.

“This house had just been completed a few months before,” Bess continued. “It was Dante's idea to build a house this grand, certainly not Magdala's. We didn't spend much time in it as a family. Within a year, Dante was back on the road again.”

“After just a few months, Magdala gathered up our things and we caught up with the carnival,” said Kitty. “She didn't like being separated from Dante.”

“Was it hard being on the road when you were so young?” Chloe asked.

Kitty shook her head. “Oh, no, my dear. It was quite wonderful. They spoiled us, all the other performers. It was like traveling with a large extended family.”

“We were happy,” Bess admitted. “We had everything we needed, and more. If only Dante had been satisfied, our childhood would have been quite idyllic.”

“But why wasn't he happy?” asked Chloe. “What more did he want?”

Bess clucked her tongue angrily. “Only the world, my dear. By unhappy coincidence, Dante's dissatisfaction began the year we were born. That was the year Dante traveled down to New York to see Harry Kellar. By this time, Kellar was widely recognized as ‘America's Greatest Magician.' Dante had heard a rumor that Kellar was about to retire and was looking for a successor, so he arranged a meeting with him in New York. When Dante came home again, he was full of lofty plans. He was convinced that Kellar was going to write and invite him to be his protégé.”

“But the letter never came,” said Kitty. “A few months later, when he learned that Kellar had chosen another magician to be his successor, Dante was absolutely heartbroken. At least that's what our mother told us.”

Bess snorted. “Dante indulged his grief like a spoiled child. He retreated to the library and didn't come out for two whole weeks.”

“But he did finally come out,” said Kitty.

“Yes, he did,” said Bess. “But he came out a man obsessed. Dante was more determined than ever to become the world's greatest magician. And we all paid the price for that.”

Chloe waited for Bess to explain, but both women had fallen silent, staring into their teacups. “Did Dante's obsession have anything to do with the carnival's disappearance?” Chloe asked at last.

“Of course it did,” said Bess.

“Now, we don't know that for sure,” said Kitty. “What about Monsieur Lucien and his wishing box?”

“Monsieur Lucien!” Bess grimaced. “You don't still believe that fairy tale!”

Kitty sat up as tall as her tiny frame would allow. “Monsieur Lucien existed, Bess. And you can't say he wasn't an influence on our father.”

“Oh, he was an influence on Dante, all right,” Bess agreed. “But all that nonsense about a magical wishing box—surely even you can see what
that
was. Our mother told us that story to gloss over the ugliness of what really happened. Our father abandoned us, Kitty!”

Kitty took a deep breath before turning to Chloe. “So much time has passed,” she said quietly. “It's hard to see things clearly now. Bess may be right; I don't know anymore. I suppose the best we can do is tell you what our mother told us and what we remember ourselves. You'll have to draw your own conclusions.”

Chloe looked from Kitty to Bess and nodded.

“We were just five years old when Monsieur Lucien wormed his way into our lives,” said Kitty. The old woman closed her eyes. “It's been almost a century, but I can still see him clearly in my mind. He was tall and slender and very formally dressed. I remember he carried an ornate gold and ebony cane. He was dark-haired, and he spoke with an accent. There was something very troubling about his eyes. They were like bottomless black pits. The first time he looked at me, I was afraid I was going to fall into them. After that I hid behind my mother whenever he was near. Bess was braver,” Kitty said, opening her eyes again.

“I didn't like him,” said Bess, “but I wasn't afraid of him. I was there when he presented Dante with the small wooden chest made of rosewood that he called a wishing box. It was just another magician's illusion, of course—it had to be—but Monsieur Lucien claimed that it was something more and offered to sell it to Dante after demonstrating its powers.”

“Powers?” Chloe asked, leaning forward in her chair.

“Dante wrote something down on a piece of paper and locked it in the rosewood box. When he unlocked the box, he found a velvet bag full of gold coins. He believed that his wish had been granted.”

“So it worked,” said Chloe.

Bess gave a mirthless laugh. “That's what Dante believed. Our father was taken in by a con man, Chloe, a common crook.”

“Bess wasn't the only one who didn't like Monsieur Lucien,” said Kitty. “Our mother was uncomfortable around him from the very beginning. And then when she read in a newspaper that a man in a nearby city had been robbed of a collection of antique coins that matched the description of the coins in the velvet bag—well, she was
really
upset then. She confronted Dante and demanded that he send our foreign guest packing, but Dante refused. Monsieur Lucien was very persuasive. He'd already convinced Dante to make another wish, a wish for a new illusion so spectacular that it would make all his previous illusions look like amateur parlor tricks.”

“I was there when that wish came true too,” Bess said darkly. “At the end of his afternoon performance, Dante surrounded himself with a wall of fire. I watched from the back of the tent as my father's body seemed to catch fire and burn. I was terrified. Dante's flesh melted into a steaming, bubbling pool. I screamed, and my mother found me and pulled me into her skirts. A moment later, she forced me to turn around and look toward the stage. The smoke had cleared and Dante was visible again, whole and unhurt, like a phoenix risen from the ashes.” Bess let out a long breath. “It was the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen. I had nightmares about it for years.”

Kitty nodded sympathetically. “I wasn't there for that illusion, but I was there the next day when one of the performers caught fire for real. Thomas the juggler had been practicing his routine with flaming clubs. One of the clubs got away and landed at a female performer's feet. Her long dress went up like a torch. It happened so fast, I just stood there in shock. Someone knocked her to the ground and rolled with her to extinguish the flames, but she'd been badly burned. They had to rush her off to the hospital.”

“I'm not sure why,” said Bess, “but in our mother's mind there was some kind of connection between the illusion Dante had wished for and the accident. Maybe it was just because she was so shaken up. Those were difficult times for the whole country. World War I was raging in Europe, and Canada was shipping men overseas by the thousands. Dante was too old for military service, but many of the younger carnival performers had signed up. It was hard on everyone, waiting for news from the front to hear who was still alive and who was dead.”

“Our mother must have reached the breaking point when she found out she was pregnant again,” said Kitty. “She couldn't do anything about the war, but she did try to get rid of Monsieur Lucien. She gave our father an ultimatum: Tell Lucien to take his rosewood box and go, or she'd pack us up and we'd leave the carnival.”

Bess shook her head. “And the foolish man chose to let Monsieur Lucien stay.”

“Maybe he thought your mother was bluffing,” Chloe offered.

“Dante wasn't choosing Monsieur Lucien over us forever, Bess,” Kitty said to her sister. “It was supposed to be temporary. We were going to be reunited at the end of the season.”

“But it wasn't temporary, was it?” Bess said angrily. “The carnival disappeared. We never saw our father again!”

“Something must have happened,” Kitty insisted. “He would have returned if it were possible. He didn't abandon us of his own free will. I refuse to believe that, no matter what you say, Bess!”

The two old women glared at each other across the table.

“What
did
happen?” Chloe asked nervously.

Bess shook her head at last and turned to Chloe. “Dante was supposed to be home on the ninth of December. When he still wasn't home on the eleventh, our mother went to the police. They waited a few days to take action, but when there was still no news of Dante, they visited the site of the carnival's last engagement. They found a few posters and the painting that hangs on the landing, but nothing else.”

“That's not true,” Kitty interrupted. “They also found Monsieur Lucien's rosewood box.”

Chloe's hand rose instantly to the key that hung at her throat. “Then you still have the wishing box?”

“Oh, no,” Kitty said, shaking her head. “Our mother destroyed it as soon as the police released it to her. I'm sure that's why Bess forgot about it.”

Bess had pushed herself up from the table again. “I would forget the whole darn thing if you'd only let me, Kitty. I still don't see the point in raking up the past.”

Kitty winked at Chloe the moment Bess was gone. “Don't let her fool you. I knew she'd be back when I started telling you Dante and Magdala's story. Bess wants you to know your family history every bit as much as I do.”

C
hapter
E
ight

N
yssa showed up at the door after lunch. “What are you up to this afternoon?” she asked Chloe. “Want to walk into town?”

Chloe's fingers were wrapped around the key at her neck. “Actually, I was just on my way upstairs.”

“To look for your mystery lock? Even better,” said Nyssa. “I've never been past the main floor. I've always wanted to see the rest of the house.”

When Chloe hesitated, Nyssa put up her hands. “I'll be cool. I won't say anything more about haunted houses, I promise.”

“All right,” said Chloe. She stepped back to let her friend enter. “We can cover more ground with two pairs of eyes anyway.” On their way up the stairs, Chloe pointed out the painting of the carnival on the first landing.

“This is it?” said Nyssa, leaning forward to get a better look. “This is the picture that keeps changing?”

Chloe nodded. “And now look, there's a lake in the background. I swear that's the first time I've seen the lake. No matter what you say about holograms or practical jokes, this picture still creeps me out!”

Nyssa studied the painting a second longer. “All right then, let's see if this lake is still here when we come back downstairs.”

A minute later they were on the third floor, entering a storage room lined with cupboards and shelves and wardrobes. Garment racks filled most of the center of the room.

“Cool,” Nyssa said as Chloe unzipped the nearest garment bag and removed a long gown of gauzy white fabric. Nyssa reached for the handle of the mahogany wardrobe beside her. She was almost buried in the avalanche of garments that spilled out when she opened the door. “Wow. Did all these costumes come from Dante's carnival?” she asked.

“All that stuff disappeared with Dante, I think,” said Chloe. “Kitty told me that her mother was a seamstress and costume maker for St. Mark's.”

“Your great-grandmother
made
these?” said Nyssa, holding up a mermaid's tail covered with glittering scales. “That is so cool.”

Chloe nodded. “I know. Both my great-grandparents were amazing. You wouldn't believe what Dante went through to get what he wanted. It makes me feel kind of stupid. Dante would never have let something like stage fright stop him from doing what he wanted to do.”

“People get over stage fright, you know,” Nyssa said as she returned the mermaid's tail to the wardrobe. “I know you say you have it bad, but it doesn't have to be a life sentence.”

“I know, I know.” Chloe took a deep breath. “Actually, on that subject, I was kind of wondering—how late would be too late to put my name down for that talent show?”

Nyssa looked up. “You're changing your mind?”

“Don't get excited,” said Chloe. “I'm not committing myself to anything yet. It's just, I've been thinking about how Dante never gave up. I don't know. I've been reading his memoir, exploring his house—maybe some of his determination is rubbing off on me.”

“So do you still have your entry form?”

“I threw it away,” Chloe said sheepishly.

“No problem,” said Nyssa. “I can get you another one tonight.”