City of Ash (53 page)

“We don’t need to ask anyone,” I said calmly, though my blood was racing. “I know what to do. I played Delphinia Beaumont in
Heaven’s Awakening.
”

“I doubt playing a medium onstage is the same thing.”

The echo of his wife’s words. I smiled grimly. “How much harder could it be? I remember it very well. There were candles, and holding hands, and calling the spirit.… Why not try, Nathan? The worst that could happen is that we fail to contact her.”

He looked at me assessingly, but then, finally, he nodded. “Very well. If you truly think you can do this. I admit I don’t understand how it works, but—”

“I’ve known many actors who are spiritualists,” I told him, which wasn’t a lie. Half the actors in New York City dabbled with spirits. I even knew one who claimed to have a spirit guide telling him how to deliver his lines. “And Delphinia Beaumont was very successful. I had spiritualists coming backstage for weeks thinking she must be real.”

“I confess I … I cannot think what else to do. And her father … if I don’t find her soon …” He looked at me with eyes so haunted I was taken aback. “I must lay this to rest once and for all.”

“Then all it needs is to decide when,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder again, leaning close to reassure him because he looked so despairing.

He said, “Tonight. It must be tonight,” just as someone came around the corner.

“Pardon me, but it seems they require Mrs. Wilkes back upon the stage.”

Sebastian, of course. Who else could it be? I cursed Lucius inwardly for sending him, because I knew he’d done it deliberately—Lucius’s particular kind of joke.

“Of course,” Nathan said with a thin smile, and then, as if he too was part of Lucius’s badly timed joke, he kissed me and said, “Twilight tonight, then. Shall I send a carriage for you?”

I shook my head mutely.

Nathan stepped back. “She’s all yours, DeWitt.”

I struggled to keep from wincing at the words. I didn’t look at
Sebastian. Instead I watched Nathan walk away. But then when I went to pass Sebastian, he caught my arm. “Just what the hell are you up to, Bea?”

Now I did look at him, and I wished I hadn’t. Because his eyes were hard, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to wiggle my way out of this one easily. Still, you know, you can’t help trying, no matter how stupid the attempt. “I’ve no idea what you mean.”

“Why does Langley think he’s seeing his wife’s spirit?”

I wondered what else he’d heard and tried not to panic.
Remember what you want, Bea
. I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could. “Maybe he’s been reading his wife’s copy of
Penelope
. How should I know? Why don’t you ask the local spiritualist society?”

“My guess is that I could get a better answer from you.”

“I’m not privy to Nathan’s thoughts.” I tried to pull away, but he held me fast.

“You said something about Delphinia Beaumont.”

“I thought you above eavesdropping.”

“What are you scheming, Bea?”

“I’m not scheming anything. Take your hand off me.”

“What are you planning with him for tonight?”

I glared at him. “I’m planning to fuck him.”

He flinched, but his grip tightened on my arm. “You’re lying to me. Why?”

“Because it’s none of your goddamned business.”

“Where were you this morning?”

“At the privy.”

“You weren’t. You took so long I went to find you.”

“What were you talking to Nathan about today?” I countered. “When he first came. What did he want?”

Sebastian’s expression went guarded. “He asked me about his wife.”

“What about her?”

“Whether I’d seen her the day of the fire. He’d heard a rumor that she was asking after my rooms. He wanted to know if she found them, if I might … be harboring her there.”

I stared at him in dismay. “Why would he ask you such a thing? Why would he think
you
might be keeping her?”

He looked away uncomfortably.

“He asked you to have an affair with his wife,” I remembered, and now I understood why. Another affair with another artist. The rumor mill had already been grinding over the mere fact that she’d had a beer with him. How much more unbalanced would she have seemed had Sebastian done what Nathan wanted—what
she
no doubt wanted as well, because I wasn’t imagining the fascination Sebastian held for her, no matter how well she tried to cloak it. I couldn’t blame her for that, could I? Not when I felt the same way?

Oh, clever, clever Nathan. So damn cruel, the way he’d played her, the temptation he’d dangled—how hard it must have been for her to refuse it, if she’d even tried.

“That’s what he thinks, isn’t it?” I asked Sebastian. “That you did as he asked.”

He met my gaze. “Yes.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I hadn’t, for God’s sake! That I hadn’t seen her the morning of the fire, or the goddamned night before. That I wasn’t keeping her now. Damn Langley and his games.”

“Was Nathan convinced?”

His gaze sharpened. “What webs are you spinning, Bea? You mean to get something from Nathan Langley. What was all that about Delphinia Beaumont and spirits? What are you doing to him?”

I’d had enough. I started to push past him again, and this time when he stepped in front of me, I said, “Get out of my way.”

“Not until you tell me.”

“I’m looking after our best interests. That’s all you need to know.”

“
Our
best interests? What are those?”

“The company, of course. Money.”

“Whatever it is you’re doing, you don’t need Langley for it. There are other ways—”

“There is no other way,” I snapped. “And it doesn’t matter how much I love you, I’m not going to live like a pauper for you. One of us has to know how to make a living. Obviously it’s going to have to be me.”

I stepped around him, dodging his hand, marching to the tent
without him, and I was so angry and afraid of his questions I was breathing hard. I marched into the tent like some fury from a romance, and it wasn’t until then that I looked up and saw the rest of the company staring at me as if I’d grown an extra head, and I realized two things: first, that they’d heard every word Sebastian and I had shouted at each other, and second—and most troubling of all—I’d told him that I loved him.

Geneva

I
’d been without conversation or company all day, and I was as lonely as I’d been before I’d met her—lonelier, actually, because at least then I had novels to distract me, and now I did nothing but wait for her to return. I was anxious, wondering if she’d met with Nathan, if she’d convinced him to hold the séance. Three times that afternoon, I went to the lowered flaps and peeked out the crack between them, hoping for a glimpse of her.

The third time, I saw Sebastian DeWitt instead. Strangely, she was not with him, though it was late, and I expected the rehearsal was over—it had to be. He strode into camp, his bag bouncing against his side, and as I watched, he glanced at the tent, and it seemed our eyes met, though he could not have seen mine through the narrow opening, and the contact was like a little blow. Breathlessly, I dropped my hand, pulling shut the flaps, scooting back, my heart pounding. For a moment I was certain he would come here, and I berated myself for my
foolishness. But he did not, and when I dared to look through the crack again, he was gone.

It was perhaps half an hour later that she swept inside, restless and agitated. “The séance is tonight,” she said by way of greeting.

“Tonight?”

“At twilight, Nathan said.” She grimaced. “I don’t know where he got that. Perhaps he thinks he’s in a mellie.”

“It’s too little time to plan.”

“It doesn’t need to be complicated. What do we need but a medium and a spirit? We have both. You’ll have to tell me what room would be best. The parlor we went into before? You could come in those doors and hide behind the drapes until I call you.”

“I suppose. I could escape easily enough if things got out of hand.”

“And then …” She paused uncomfortably. “He’ll no doubt want me to stay.”

“I’ll be safe walking back. There are militia everywhere if I need them.” Then, when she said nothing more, I ventured, “What about Mr. DeWitt?”

“What about him?” Her voice was sharp—a sore point, obviously.

“I saw him return without you today.”

“He’s not my servant. I can’t order him to wait for me.”

“But he always has,” I pointed out.

Her expression went grim. “We had an argument. He overheard me talking to Nathan.”

I felt a flutter of nervousness. “Overheard? What did he overhear?”

“That Nathan was seeing your spirit. And that I meant to meet him tonight.”

“Dear God. He didn’t … he doesn’t think—”

“Not yet. But he’s clever, you know. Too clever.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I was playing the role of mistress tonight. I don’t think he entirely believed me. He heard me mention Delphinia Beaumont to Nathan, and now he’s suspicious. He’s asking questions. He’s a writer. He knows a plot when he sees one.”

“You can’t tell him anything.” The thought of Sebastian DeWitt being privy to this plan … I could not bear to think of how it might change his perception of me. I was as afraid as she was of what he would think of our scheme. “Do you understand me? Nothing!”

“Don’t think I don’t know that. Unfortunately, he knows me a bit too well. And it doesn’t help that questions about you keep coming up. He couldn’t forget you if he tried. Even Nathan’s asking him about you.”

“About me? Why?”

“Apparently he thinks you and Bastian had an affair.” She said the words casually, but I saw how tense she was. “Today he asked Sebastian if you’d been with him the morning of the fire.”

I stared at her in surprise. “What did Mr. DeWitt tell him?”

“That you weren’t—which I know to be a fact, because he was with me. But I don’t know if Nathan believes him, and
I
certainly can’t tell him the truth.”

“My interest in Mr. DeWitt is purely platonic.”

Bea’s gaze was cool. “Is it? Nathan also asked Sebastian if he might be harboring you now.”

Now I was both panicked and confused. “Why would he think that?”

“Because Nathan’s afraid enough of what he thinks he’s seeing that he’s desperate to find you alive.”

“What will we do?”

“What we planned. But the longer this gets played out, the more suspicious Sebastian will be, and the more questions he’ll ask.” Her gaze met mine. “This is your chance to really take the stage the way you wanted. You’re going to need to act your heart out tonight, Ginny. We need this to proceed more quickly if it’s going to work at all.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“You’re going to need to do better than that.” Her expression was set and sober. “Nathan’s not sleeping. He looks terrible. He said he dreams of you.”

“Nightmares, I hope.”

She smiled a little. “Oh, yes indeed.”

“Much deserved,” I said. “I hope to make them worse.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon making plans. Then, when it was time, and when she determined that we would not happen upon Mr. DeWitt, we left the camp—one at a time, so as not to raise any suspicion. Once we were away, we walked quickly, and as we reached the house and I pulled into the shadow of a neighboring tree, she asked a little breathlessly, “Are you ready?”

I nodded. In truth, I had never felt so ready for anything. I was hardly nervous, only buoyed with determination and anticipation.

“Then I’ll go,” she said.

“Good lu—”

“Don’t say it!” she whispered harshly, just short of panic. “It’ll guarantee things to go wrong.”

I looked at her in surprise. “I had no idea you were so superstitious.”

“I’m an actress, aren’t I? Now take it back.”

“Very well, I take it back. But I can’t quite make myself hope for bad luck instead.”

She nodded without smiling, obviously tense. “I’ll see you inside.”

I watched her as she went to the door, knocked, and was ushered in. Then, quickly, I ran around to the side yard, to the French doors, waiting until I saw Bonnie bring her into the room and close the parlor door before I opened them.

Bea glanced over her shoulder and gave me a reassuring smile, and then I was inside, hiding myself behind the drapes veiling the door.

“The toe of your boot,” she said quietly, and I pulled it back.

“Perfect,” she whispered.

I waited, hardly daring to breathe, listening as she moved around the parlor, the clink as she picked up something here, another as she set it down. It seemed we waited a long time, but it was probably only a few moments before the parlor door opened and Nathan said, “Thank God you’re here.”

“You said twilight.”

“So I did.” The rapid pace of his footsteps; I imagined he was embracing her. “Do you really think this will work?”

“I think it won’t hurt to try. You should have some bourbon, Nathan. Or some sherry. You’re far too tense.”

“I don’t want any.”

“No spirit will come when you’re like this,” she urged. I heard the clink of the decanter—gold-chased crystal. “Sherry? Or—what is this—scotch?”