12 Night at the Theater
Chapter Twelve
Night at the Theater
U pon reaching town, Mae did not want to stop.
Against the cool, morning air, Locke kept her warm, his arms encircling her while his hands gripped the reins. She should have been used to the close contact by now. But she wasn’t. Every now and then, she still shivered.
These last few hours had offered more close contact with another person than she had experienced in all of the last decade. She no longer doubted. The contact between them, closer than necessary, said so much more than Locke dared to.
She wished they could ride on like this for days. She rather liked the quiet determination of their journey. Every mile they distanced themselves from Blackthorne Manor, she felt more at ease. After all that had happened, even the bricks seemed a lie. It was a place unknown to her now, with new memories of pain and danger—of things she wished she hadn’t done. The ominous darkness of the cellar, that hissing noise—it all seemed to follow her. From that, no distance seemed great enough.
Locke, however, demanded rest. Town offered them a place to get food. If they were lucky, safety too. At least for a time. With Ellsworth quite possibly on their heels, Locke said they would blend in best on foot. And they could not very well run like this forever, could they ?
After stabling Gambit, they made their way toward the heart of town. The smell of freshly caught fish steeped the air. At the pair’s passing, shopkeepers sprang to life, shouting and motioning toward their goods.
Locke, the only one with any money on him, picked up as much food as they could carry. Although he made no issue of it, Mae was reminded yet again just how much she’d left behind: everything save her dress and boots.
It had been months since Mae had been to market. As the morning carried on, new stalls of fruit and flowers opened all along the streets. Around her, the crowds doubled. People burst forth down the alleyway, spitting, shoving, shouting.
She enjoyed scenes of customers bartering for a cheaper price, the cliques of women deep in gossip, the casual how-do-you-do s between acquaintances. Furthermore, all the different styles of dress: some dirtied and ragged like theirs and others of the finest and latest styles.
“A rose for your wife,” a man called out to Locke.
Locke stumbled for words, clearly caught off guard.
“No need.” Mae clutched his arm and pulled him ahead. “I have a whole garden of those.” Maybe one day, she would.
“Thank you.” He tilted his head toward her.
“Just trying to blend in.” Mae raised her chin. In the crowd, it was easy enough.
Only once did she worry when she saw children running unchaperoned. While pitiable, they also seemed suspect.
She feared the worst when Locke had caught the hand of a rough-looking boy. A silver coin glistened between stubby, dirt-lined fingers. Mae pieced it together. The boy was a pickpocket. Sadly corrupted at so young an age.
“Oh, please let him go.” She could only guess what Locke might do. The small lad could be no more than twelve. But while she expected curses and maybe even a hard knock, Locke held still .
“Please, sir.” The boy twisted and tugged.
“You’re clumsy.” Locke released his hold. “And not a quarter as fast as you should be.” Reaching into his pocket, Locke tossed him another coin. The boy grinned, then, without a single word of gratitude or apology, ran off into the crowd.
Mae stared at Locke, aghast. Though she had feared Locke being too harsh, she still thought the boy had deserved some sort of punishment. Certainly not a reward. “I hope you don’t think that an act of charity. You’re only encouraging his criminal behavior.”
“He steals to survive. There’s no crime in that. The only criminals are those who steal out of greed…like myself.”
Mae laughed, at last endeavoring to relax.
At least a decade had passed since she had traveled this far away from home.
Only a few of the same buildings she had visited with her mother still remained. For those sights and memories alone, Mae relished the visit.
She froze as a horse-drawn omnibus whizzed past.
“Careful.” Locke yanked her back.
She flushed. “The streets get busier every year.”
“Towns change without warning, don’t they?” Locke took in the vastness of the buildings, their height reaching four, even five stories. “It’s remarkable, really. How nothing stands still.”
“Not so,” Mae countered. “In the country, the moors, prairies, forests… None of that ever changes. But if you wait long enough, even their beauty in your eyes begins to fade.”
How often during the lull of afternoons had she stayed indoors, gazing at a book without reading a single word? She had had enough companions to occupy her then. But eventually, she’d found them dull too. Time spent with them had always led to the same gossip, the same compliments.
A certain restlessness had begun growing in her then—urging her toward something more exciting. A feeling she’d thought had died with her brother. Though now she wondered if it had ever died at all. It was in her blood, hidden but eager to re-emerge. All the Blackthornes before her had known and experienced it…at sea, as pirates.
A woman screeched nearby, an argument ensuing with a wagon driver. Mae waited for the shouting to recede into the distance. “How do you remember it?” she asked the pirate. “The town, that is.”
Had he actually been alive to see it in its early days? She hated that she had even entertained the possibility. But given that strange, blue serum, it had to have been true. Furthermore, who would invent such a tale? Secret betrothals, affairs, even women being with child had been invented, but nothing like what Mrs. Dorris and Mrs. Jacobs had suspected of Locke.
“Less busy.” His eyes narrowed at the chaos. “I notice the same in other places. Forests are downed, farms and villages taking their place. Villages become towns, towns become cities. Any forests in their path gone in a matter of years. In fact, that could very well be the fate of the Northern Woods. You would miss the place then, wouldn’t you?”
Mae nodded. “That’s the trouble when things are taken away. You finally realize their worth.” She thought of the forest, its crisp, mossy smell, the quiet whisper of leaves, the vibrant color of grass after the rain…
Along the street they walked, there was not a single tree to speak of, let alone a patch of grass. She still appreciated the town for its ability to change, though, for the shops and buildings both old and new. “I think I’ve had my fill of forests and moors,” she said.
“For good?”
“Perhaps.” She couldn’t deny how much she enjoyed this new taste of freedom. “So long as my surroundings are thrilling enough, why not?”
“How, may I ask, do you find our adventure?” Locke quirked a brow. “Thrilling enough for your taste? ”
“More like dangerous .”
By now, Ellsworth could have discovered their escape. For all they knew, he could have been searching for them.
“There are far worse enemies in this world than Ellsworth, Miss Blackthorne… and far worse ways to die.”
A glimmer of something she didn’t recognize took over his eyes. Whatever it was, something clearly painful to him had crossed his mind. To witness it felt intrusive, as if she were unearthing a private, uncharted piece of his life. So, quickly, she looked away.
A church served as a perfect distraction. Sunlight sparkled off the tall, white dome, rising far above than any other building.
“Nice to see that some things have remained,” Locke said.
Clearing their view, a flock of birds dispersed and something within Mae sparked. The way Locke talked about this town, how it had and hadn’t changed over the years, made it all too clear. Locke was much older than he appeared. She was growing certain of it.
“What is it?” he asked, his strikingly familiar face confirming her suspicions. “You’ve suddenly gone quite still.”
How had he managed it? How had his serum been able to heal her so quickly? There was nothing within her logic to explain any of it. Since the moment they’d met, he had been nothing short of perplexing.
He had saved her in the cellar, but first he had put her life in danger. And for what? Gold? Vast amounts, yes. Though perhaps he had been after something different, something far grander, since the beginning. Something she could scarcely imagine. She would like to think he hadn’t been lying. That material things did not sway him like he had once said. That he wasn’t some bitter pirate desperate for glory that could no longer be had at sea. He could not think gold was worth her life. The very idea had likely been borne out of some idle hope that he cared for her, that his charm wasn’t founded on lust.
“Miss Blackthorne? ”
“We best find a place to sleep.”
Locke looked around and nodded in agreement. “Indeed.”
*
Locke splashed through the puddles of the alleyway, not surprised when Miss Blackthorne lagged behind.
“You’re not taking me to an inn, are you?”
Locke grumbled a curse. Their trip through town seemed all he could endure. His body ached everywhere and he was in desperate need for a good night’s sleep. Food was definitely in order too.
“No time to argue.” Locke waved her forward. “Quickly now.”
Miss Blackthorne sighed and lifted her skirts an inch higher. Evidently all too aware of the stagnant puddles, she took slow and careful steps. Even now when she was undoubtedly exhausted from their journey, her skirts already ragged and dirty, she was as collected as ever.
She didn’t need the ostentatiousness of silks or furs. Even without, she stood far above the likes of him.
Still in her fine dress, she held whispers of her true self. Perhaps it was their escape from the manor or their near encounter with death, but that bold, wayward air of hers seemed clearer and more apparent than before. For once, it wasn’t so fleeting, hidden or aloof.
“Over here.” Locke shot down the alleyway. If he was going to get through the night, he needed to keep her at a distance.
“You’ll get us in trouble,” she whispered harshly. The longer she took in the ominous grayness of the surrounding buildings, the more questioning her eyes became.
Locke thrust his elbow into the glass of a door. “We’ll be fine.” He reached through and unhinged the lock.
Miss Blackthorne inspected the alleyway. She picked one of many crumpled show-bills and dropped it .
“A theater?” She gasped. “You can’t be serious.”
“I won’t risk discovery at an inn.”
He could not shake this constant feeling that Ellsworth, in a rare moment of intelligence, had lingered behind and had seen them leave the estate. He was likely following their trail. Their route had been too direct. Too easily, it could be followed.
More than his life was at risk now. He didn’t like that Miss Blackthorne’s life seemed to balance in his hands. The least he could do was play the gentleman. Even if he hated the theater for its cheap laughs and overacting, the grandeur and stateliness before them made good manners seem possible. At an inn, he couldn’t be sure.
She bit her lip. “They could be rehearsing…”
“The place is closed for the season. Said so on the marquee.” Locke offered his hand.
After a tense moment, she grabbed it, much to his satisfaction. He wasn’t completely sure if she trusted him, but his efforts to keep her safe had at least not gone unnoticed.
The glowing necklace guided them through the dark, windowless lobby. The fog of light just enough to make out a glistening staircase. In its pristine, nearly dust-free condition, the place had likely closed only weeks ago.
Still, Miss Blackthorne kept close, searching the floor, probably for rats.
“It’s not so bad.” He gave her a reassuring smile, his eyes lingering then snapping away.
He relaxed his tensing muscles. The baser parts of him knew all too well that inn or not, they would be alone. But, hang it, he could not think of Miss Blackthorne like this.
For decades, he had been waiting for his chance to reclaim the sapphire. He could not let some woman, some short-lived attraction, get in the way. She was useful for now, but she would not be so always. Finding the sapphire might not call for saving her life like it had in the cellar. More likely, she would only stall him. He should leave her behind and take all the treasure. A pirate would think nothing of it. A true pirate wouldn’t care.
Though somehow, that had ceased to matter. He was leaving that life behind, wasn’t he? The one ahead of him seemed much brighter with her in it.
As they climbed the stairway, her father’s betrayal was forgotten. The sense of revenge that had fueled him in the beginning had been squashed to nothing.
He had once despised Alastair’s ruthless, unforgiving nature—traits he’d expected Miss Blackthorne to share. Yet she was different somehow. She had always been. He was sure of this now. In her, there was modesty, uncertainty, and a kind of yearning. Something he wanted deeply to indulge.
“There’s nowhere to sleep,” Miss Blackthorne said.
Locke mounted the last step and led the way into one of the private balconies. Sooner than he had expected, night had descended. Moonlight spilled in from a nearby window, casting the room in a silvery hue.
“Right here.” Locke slapped a plush, velvet seat.
Miss Blackthorne shuffled past him and leaned over the railing. Weak sunlight streaked through the skylight, illuminating a long stretch of aisle and row upon row of seats. “I’ve never been to a theater this empty.”
“Nor I.” From a bag, Locke pulled out the supplies they had purchased. Kneeling on the carpet, he worked quickly to arrange the blanket, taper candles, and much-needed bread, cheese, and wine.
But as perfect as he thought the spread looked, Miss Blackthorne did not seem to notice any of it. Leaning against the wall, she stared straight ahead, her pale cheeks flickering in the candlelight.
“You must be hungry.” Locke uncorked and handed her a bottle of wine. But she didn’t drink. Instead, her face crumpled .
“What happened in the cellar, what I did… I’ll never be able to forget it, will I?”
She was speaking of that man’s death. Something that would likely trouble her for months, if not years. Her eyes watered and she bit her lip. He should have been the one to bear it, the one who had killed that man instead.
“You’ll forget soon enough,” Locke lied. His first kill had been just as horrifying. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen and it hadn’t taken much effort. It had almost been an accident. But he’d known the sharks had been in the waters that day. They’d been following his crew’s ship since they’d entered the Pacific. When the man had come at him with a knife, Locke had simply shoved a shoulder into him and he’d fallen overboard right into the circle of sharks. The blossoming of blood had been almost instant.
“I suppose there’s no going back now, is there? If we don’t find the vault—”
“We’ll find it. I’ve never let anything half so valuable escape my grasp and I don’t intend to now.”
“What about Ellsworth? After all this, he might still seek me out.” She tipped the bottle into her mouth and drank.
With an arm resting on his knee, Locke bit heartily into a chunk of bread and thought it over.
“There are plenty of places to go. Rome. Egypt. India…” He pointed his half-eaten bread at her. “You’ve never been to any of them, have you?”
“And you have?” She passed him the bottle.
“I’ve seen ’em all.” And thus, he had paid a price. Aside from Miss Blackthorne and the wretched Ellsworth, he hadn’t a single acquaintance left.
She came closer and, spreading out her skirts, sat down on the blanket beside him. At last.
“One can’t travel forever, you know. With your share, you’ll have to settle down sometime.”
“Perhaps.” He paused to consider it. “Say, what does a respectable man with a fortune do?”
“I suppose he would marry.” She took up a slice of cheese and placed it on the bread. “Attend the opera, throw dinner parties.”
“Dinner parties? As in the one that I attended the second time we met?”
“Similar, yes.”
“I’d rather hang myself.”
She laughed in a breathy, cheerful way. It lifted him.
“You have a bit of that wanderer’s spirit yourself,” he said after a pause.
“When I was younger.” She blushed, as though it were a silly notion. “I remember asking my father over and over to take me to sea. Of course, given that I was no more than a girl, he refused.”
“He was trying to protect you.”
“If only he had wanted the same for William…”
“But it wasn’t the sea that claimed him.”
“Ellsworth…” Locke remembered, his face falling.
Miss Blackthorne rubbed her arm. “It was right when we’d lost everything. Everyone thought he’d gone mad and maybe he had. The sea and whatever tragedy he’d faced out there had done that to him.” She squeezed her fists. “But I refused to let that scare me off from ever leaving home—had I the chance.”
“Good.” Locke gave a single nod. When traveling, or going to any place unfamiliar, really, the first thing one must overcome is fear. Otherwise, it will swallow you up.”
“How did you overcome it?”
“I try not to focus on the dangers. And I never look back.”
“That’s no easy thing,” Mae said. “I’m starting to miss Blackthorne Manor already.”
“The place doesn’t suit you. ”
“Oh? And what place does?”
“That, you’ll have to discover for yourself.”
“Tell me.” A glimmer of bold curiosity brightened her eyes. “Tell me about the places you’ve been.”
Glad to have distracted her from her moroseness earlier, Locke worked to come up with the single, most romantic place. “The Tuscan countryside. The wind there isn’t sharp. It’s warm and soft. And saturated with the scent of leather.” He breathed in deep, almost fancying a hint of it.
“And the people. What are they like?”
“I don’t know. I—uh, didn’t stay long. The smugglers I banded with, well, they didn’t last.”
“The law caught on to them?”
“Not quite. More of a coup, and things…turned violent. Didn’t even get my cut. This, after my days at sea. I hadn’t much money then…”
“So what did you do? How did you survive?”
Locke looked down at the wine bottle. He’d been an idiot to bring up Tuscany. He wished he hadn’t.
“I went as far as I could afford. I suppose it will disgust you that I stole from families when I needed to, even the elderly.”
“Why not search for work somewhere else? Become a sailor, perhaps.” Mae fumbled with another slice of cheese.
“I’ve heard enough dark tales to know that’s no easy life, either.”
“So what did you do?” Miss Blackthorne seemed afraid to ask.
He was just as afraid to answer. He wanted the story to encourage her wanderer spirit, not scare her away. “I did what I had to until I could afford a ticket someplace promising. I haven’t lived an easy life.” I should stop now , he thought. All he had seen and experienced—it wasn’t fit for her ears.
“Perhaps if you had tried to make an honest living—”
Locke clenched his teeth. She insisted on marking him dishonest. But what of his privateering days during the American War of 1812? What would she have called him then? A soldier? A good man willing to die for his country, though his acts had been no different?
“You don’t know the truths of this world as I do,” he said, calmer now. “It’s one where honest men starve and dishonest men feast, and sometimes violence is the only choice we’ve got.”
“Good speech. Though I doubt it’ll keep you from hanging.”
“Still mean to turn me in, Miss Blackthorne?”
“Mae, if you please.”
“Friends now, are we?”
“Hardly. The name is just—just too reminiscent of things past…”
“That’s behind you now,” Locke reminded her. “Don’t look back.”
“For that, I am grateful to you. Grateful enough to call us friends.”
Mae, he repeated in his mind, was easier on the ears. Blackthorne held too many dark memories for him too. Mae, he liked much better.
“Do you think I’ll ever return?” Mae asked.
“For your sake, I hope not.”
Mae crossed her arms. “Being a governess wasn’t all bad, I’ll have you know… I still had use of the library. I’ve even read of that Tuscan leather you spoke of.”
“Much to learn from reading, but you’d do better to experience it firsthand. How can books possibly capture the smell of the Indian market? The colors of the sunset over the Mediterranean? The majesty of the ancient pyramids? We all see the world differently, Mae. The point is that you have to see it for yourself.”
In her expression, a bit of that hope-filled wanderer spirit emerged. Renewed and strengthened, he’d like to think. Though only for a moment. Soon after, her face dropped, returning to reality. “We can’t all be fearless pirates.”
“‘Fearless’? I’d sooner be dead. I have fear—just not enough to imprison me.”
“What of men like Ellsworth? ”
Locke clucked his tongue. “The world is full of betrayers—no matter where you run.” Except here , he thought. Mae could trust him with her life. For however long it lasted, for this moment at least, they were bound to the same cause: they both sought freedom and soon, they would have it.
“You know…” He offered her another slice of bread. “You need never fear starvation with me. Tuscany was a long time ago and I—”
“How long, exactly?”
“Years. I was younger then, more foolish.”
“Hadn’t you any family? Parents, siblings…”
“To rescue me, you mean? To try to convince me of a better life?”
“Forgive me, I—”
“No.” He rubbed the back of his neck. He just wasn’t like her, with a respectable name. Even if that name hid a past as unconventional as his own.
“What about the father you spoke of?”
He was surprised she remembered. The mention of him had been an afterthought. A little fact he hadn’t meant to reveal. Hell, that never happened. He was never this forthcoming.
“There was him,” he admitted. But there were also his original, biological parents.
Mae waited, expectant. There was no evading her questions now. But why not tell her? What harm could it do?
“If you must know, both my parents died long ago, when I was a lad.” His voice dropped to a whisper. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if someone else stood near.
“It’s difficult, isn’t it?”
“Yes. We’re similar in that. We’re both very much alone.”
Mae lifted a shoulder. Her dissent, though subtle, seemed outright. He happened to think that they were very similar, and in more ways than one. How did she not see their likeness? With her, these traits were oftentimes hidden, but they were there nonetheless .
“To an extent, we’re similar in that way, yes.”
“‘To an extent’?”
“Well…” Mae swept breadcrumbs from her skirt. “Unlike you, I don’t always wish to be alone.”
“What makes you think I wish to be alone?”
“Your desire for smuggling and travel, of course.”
“Suppose I don’t travel so much anymore… There are downsides. Piracy, for one, is full of enemies.”
“As I would expect.”
“But I despised that bit. Through and through. I’ve come to realize that gold is not worth that price.”
Mae let out a beat of laughter. “All this time, is it not what you’ve been after?” When Mae looked at him with an arched brow, he near snarled.
“It’s not as though I am incapable of feeling…” he whispered. She didn’t understand, but how could he explain things without revealing his aims for the sapphire? He didn’t want to involve her in that mess. Instead, he fought for other words, eager for her to know at least a portion of the truth. He wasn’t the same cold-blooded killer as Alastair. He was certain of that now.
Mae laughed. “The only thing you should care for are gold doubloons.”
Lord, he didn’t know what had possessed him. Perhaps it was his frustrations—but drawing a breath, he took her hand and brought her dainty fingers to his lips.
“You’re wrong,” he said, holding her hand tightly, using all his strength to keep still.
Mae’s eyes, meanwhile, grew wider. She ripped her hand out from his grasp, her eyes skidding over her surroundings, as if noticing for the first time that they were alone. When she backed away, all anticipation drained out of him, replaced by the icy chill of her gaze.
“You don’t still see me as a threat…” He shifted closer .
“ Don’t. ” Mae’s tone turned as hard and cold as iron, freezing him in his tracks. “I’ve agreed to help you find my fortune—nothing more.”
“As I’m well aware.” Equally insulted, he rose to his feet.
He cursed himself. What the devil was he thinking? Certainly, this was not the place to get what he wanted. Yet he could still see it in her eyes. The look that had yet to fade. Why didn’t she simply give into it already? He growled inwardly, like the savage she thought he was.
What did he have to do? Call her beautiful, write her hourly poems, pay her a thousand more compliments before she might agree to a kiss or more? He hated how much he longed for it. He might have agreed to do anything for it. How she could quite easily make him a fool.
“I’ve done nothing wrong.” Here, he was in a room alone with her—an accomplishment he might never have deemed possible with such a woman—and he couldn’t even manage to kiss her hand, much less the other things he’d dared to imagine. He hadn’t even the hope of a “good night.”
“It doesn’t matter. There are certain rules men and women are supposed to abide by. We should not be alone like this.” She pushed her hands out.
“I did nothing out of line.” He raked a hand through his hair. “We’ve been alone plenty before and I’ve never… You’re not even a lady any longer.”
Her mouth went slack in a silent gasp.
He was certain she was being unreasonable, but when he saw the flicker of fear in her eyes he understood. She wasn’t truly free. The straight-laced rules she’d been forced to follow had never left her. “Why are you so fixed upon these dictates?” He demanded to know.
“I-I…” she stammered as she pressed back against the wall, letting her eyes drift to the floor. If only he could see what she wanted him to do next and how he might give that to her…But she was impossible to read . Her eyes were mysterious now more than ever.
“I don’t know!” she suddenly screamed. She pounded her fist backward against the wall and spun around, covering her face with her hands.
“It is fear holding you back?” Locke said. “I fought enough battles to know fear when I see it. No matter what kind…even fear of who you are. You’re not just your father’s daughter.”
“I know that.”
“Yet you’ve denied the rest of you for so long.”
“Because it’s only brought me pain.”
“It could bring you peace. If you embraced it, your wanderer spirit, and perhaps…”
She scoffed. “Do what? Travel?”
“Why not? Deep down, that’s what you were meant to do. I’m certain of that.”
When she turned around, he stepped closer. For a second, Mae seemed certain of it too.
“You have no wish to travel in your heart?”
“I always have.” Mae shrugged. “Though I’ve never spoken of it.”
“Ah…” He brushed her chin with his thumb. “I thought so.”
The sensation, the warmth of her skin radiating into his, surprised him. It had been some time since he had been this close to another woman. Years, even. But he was sure it had never felt like this, never so right.
She swallowed.
“You’ll do it, then? Travel with me? When all this is over, of course.”
She nodded, making his pulse throb with excitement. Somehow, she seemed to be agreeing to so much more.
The romantic side of him wanted to be gentle. Have her yield to him without trepidation. But the pirate side of him wanted to take the back of her neck and pull her against him, no matter what the consequence.
Taking in a deep gust of air, he let the pirate side of him win. To his amazement, she didn’t resist.