Chapter Five #2
“You’re much more likely to get his attention by calling out ‘fish,’” Mr. Beaumont said. “It’s even better if you spell it because then he thinks you’re trying to not share, and he’ll have none of that.”
“Do you have any fish to give him?”
“No, but he already hates me. If it brings him back, I’ll gladly face his displeasure.” He raised his voice. “I say, Miss Davis, would you care for a bite of f-i-s-h?”
Nora held her breath as they waited for any indication Tristan was coming. The only rustling came from the rain hitting the bushes.
Mr. Beaumont tried again. “This fish is so good. I’m glad Tristan isn’t here to have any.”
If she weren’t so worried about Tristan, she’d find it amusing Mr. Beaumont spoke of and treated the cat more like an unruly toddler than an animal.
“Hey, mister! Come give us a hand.” The two men attempted to shift the hack out of the rut and off the main portion of the road.
Mr. Beaumont’s shoulders sagged. “I best go help. Keep calling. Maybe he’ll like your voice better.”
He walked back toward the hack, but Nora couldn’t turn around. All she could imagine was seeing Tristan’s mangled body when they lifted. Instead she squinted at each branch bouncing in the rain and tried to distinguish gray fur from gray sky.
“On my count. One. Two. Three.”
Their grunting gave way to an angry yowl.
Nora turned in time to see a brown and gray streak dart from between the rut and wheel.
By God’s mercy, Tristan must have been kept safe in the space between wood and mud.
Even so, the poor beast was distraught and apparently desired Nora to comfort him.
He ran straight for her and leaped. She instinctively dropped the umbrella and swooped him up.
Soaked and caked in mud, he was more than happy to share his newly acquired wealth.
Her entire ensemble would need a thorough washing, but Nora had never been so relieved to hold an animal in her life.
She adjusted her grip like Mrs. Beaumont had shown her and promised him the first bite of fish she could find. Mr. Beaumont was a few minutes more, and by the time he rejoined her, he was as soaked and mud-caked as Tristan.
“Well, Tristan. It looks like I’m still stuck with you.” Despite Mr. Beaumont’s words, he scratched under Tristan’s chin and smiled.
Tristan accepted the affection but growled when Mr. Beaumont attempted to reclaim him.
“I’m happy to carry him after the fright he gave us.” It was the least she could do for Mrs. Beaumont. They didn’t need the rascal escaping again and breaking her heart.
“If he gets too heavy, tell me.” He retrieved the umbrella and dumped the accumulated rain before angling it over both of them.
“They said they’d see to the driver and indicated there’s a horsecar stop not too far from here, but it’s not due for another half hour.”
It might be better for them to walk to the home of her nearest friend, Theresa Plane.
It couldn’t take much longer than that, and they’d have a place to dry off and clean up before moving on.
Given Theresa’s fondness for animals, she’d welcome Tristan and check him for injury.
If Nora and Mr. Beaumont passed a horsecar before then, they could always get on and travel to their separate destinations from there.
“I have a better idea. If you’re willing to walk, I have a friend who lives about a mile from here. She has a carriage we can borrow.”
“That is a long distance to walk in this rain. We’ll be soaked to the marrow by the time we arrive.”
“By the looks of you, you’re already soaked, and I’m most of the way there. At Theresa’s, we can warm by a fire before moving on.”
He checked his watch and scowled. “There isn’t time, not if I’m to see you home, change, and still arrive to work on time.”
“I’ll visit with Theresa, which fulfills your promise to see me to safety. She will gladly lend you the use of her family carriage so you can return home. It will still be faster than waiting for the horsecar and enduring its multiple stops.”
He wasn’t pleased, but he must have seen the wisdom in it. “Are you certain your friend won’t mind?”
“Theresa will be delighted to have Tristan to care for and a story to share.” The Guardians would give Nora no end of teasing when they heard. “I’m not in the habit of befriending men.”
He laughed. “Especially those you deem Don Giovannis.”
“You should be honored. I’ve spoken with you more than any man not related to me since the beginning of time.
In fact, I’m rather exhausted from it and think silence is best from here forward.
” She skirted the road’s edge, doing her best to avoid puddles and maintain her balance with the squirming feline.
Mr. Beaumont strolled beside her, holding the umbrella aloft and providing a barrier from any conveyances that passed their direction. “But you know I’m not one for silence.”
“Yes, and it’s rather annoying.”
“I prefer the term endearing. So how long have you been visiting your ma?”
The question was entirely too personal, but it was their one place of common ground.
Well, aside from Tristan. She nuzzled the top of his head with her chin, and he nipped her in return.
Okay, so no nuzzling. She glanced at Mr. Beaumont, who gave an expectant arch to his brow.
Fine. As he’d likely intrude upon her time with Mum in the future, she’d best inform him nothing Mum said should be believed. No matter how true it may be.
“Five years next month. She’s developed quite the imagination, much to her detriment.”
“Such as imagining Winston and Ursula as a danger to you?”
“Yes. She saw them wherever she looked, and her fear led to dangerous behaviors.”
Like almost shooting Father when he’d come home unexpectedly and attacking a stranger in the street because she thought him Winston.
No matter how certain Nora and Father were that they were still safe, Winston and Ursula had become the tormentors to Mum’s days and nights, eventually driving away all reasonable thought.
Before Mr. Beaumont could ask any other impertinent questions, she changed the topic. “What do you do for a living, Mr. Beaumont? Not many working men can leave for the afternoon to visit their mums or start their days well into the afternoon.”
“I’m blessed to be the stage manager for Pike’s Opera House. On most days, we have morning rehearsals, a break for three or four hours, then I’m required to return at four to prepare for the evening show.”
“You work at Pike’s Opera House?” So much for minding her tone. The awe and longing had slipped through as if held in a sieve.
By his widening smile, he’d noticed. “I do. I interact on a daily basis with the visiting troupes. This week it is the Soldene Opera Company. Thomas Keene is next week, and then we’ll have the famous actress Sarah Bernhardt.”
The man was bragging, but Nora couldn’t blame him.
While the world might be in a flutter over Sarah Bernhardt’s acting, it was the chance to hear operas again that had Nora longing for just one day in his position.
She hadn’t stepped foot inside an opera house since New York, let alone stood in the wings of a performance.
Out of the nearly dozen opera houses and music halls in the city, Pike’s Opera House was supposed to be the best. Well, it was until Music Hall opened in ’78.
Not that she’d experience either for herself. Both were forbidden by Father.
“If you’re interested, I could procure a ticket or two for one of the Olivette performances on Friday or Saturday.
I couldn’t join you for the performance, but if you come early or stay late, I can provide a tour and perhaps introduce you to the cast. Regrettably Sarah Bernhardt has strict rules about visitors. ”
Nora’s mouth went dry, and her heart raced.
How she wanted to say yes. She didn’t care one whit about Sarah Bernhardt, but to hear the opera?
It didn’t matter it was one she’d never heard of.
Her music-parched soul begged her to accept one night of defiance and sit in the audience where the music and lyrics could finally quench the dream long denied her.
But Father would never allow it, and shows occurred in the evenings when he was home and expected her to be as well.
As of late, he’d been filling her weekends with potential suitors, ones who specifically had a distaste for theatre and would frown upon Mum’s former profession.
Even if Nora wanted to sneak away like Lydia or Theresa would, she couldn’t get away with it.
“Perhaps I could introduce you to Emily Soldene and tell her what a magnificent singer you are. I’ve been told she’s always looking for talented and beautiful women to join her troupe.”
Oh heavens! That would certainly send Father into a fit of apoplexy.
It would be one thing to attend an opera, but something far worse to interact with someone who lived in the limelight and might remember Mum.
And for Nora to take to the stage? He might toss her into Longview.
The dream of seeing Mum on stage was long dead, but dreaming of one day taking the stage herself was something Nora didn’t even dare strike the flint to.
Once that spark ignited, she wasn’t sure she could ever put out the fire—not without the pain of getting burned.
“As generous as your offer is, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” Just saying the words crushed her.
Disappointment stole the brightness from Mr. Beaumont’s countenance, and he fell quiet.
By the way Tristan stopped trying to escape her arms, even he had turned sullen.
Nora endured the remainder of the walk convincing herself the denial was necessary and she wouldn’t really have enjoyed the experience anyway.