Chapter Eight
NORA HAD NEVER BEEN SO grateful for scandal.
Because of a suspected embezzlement scheme at a sister company in St. Louis, Father had been asked to immediately audit their books.
He left on Wednesday, which meant supper on Friday with his next choice of suitor had been canceled and her plans to invite the Guardians to spend the night heartily approved.
Father never liked leaving Nora alone, even for an afternoon.
It’s why, even on their limited budget, he hired Lily as their maid of all work.
Before he’d left on business, they’d followed their usual routine for preparing Nora to be alone.
They’d practiced shooting in Theresa’s carriage house, reviewed safety precautions, then planned for hypothetical situations, including when to seek help from their neighbors, the Jerdens.
Once satisfied, he’d rushed out the door, tested to ensure she locked it, then disappeared for what he suspected would be a week.
Thursday and Friday were gloriously quiet and uneventful.
After Lily left each day, Nora sang, knit, or worked on a new gray dress that would help her blend in with the sooty cityscape.
The frock was simple, but she was pleased with her progress.
Or at least she was until the clock chimed the six o’clock hour on Friday evening.
Either she should have stopped sooner or worked faster.
Now she had to abandon a half-finished seam if she wanted to meet the Guardians on time.
Setting the project aside, she flew through a clothing change and hired the first available hack she found.
When she finally arrived, Theresa, Lydia, and Flossie waited on the portico, already resplendently dressed in ruffles, lace, and pastels.
Oh dear. So much for her best dress being good enough.
The unadorned brown ensemble was a flour sack compared to theirs.
Not that flour sacks were bad. Her drab wardrobe and plain hats served their purpose.
Most people either didn’t notice her or forgot her when there was nothing noteworthy to remember.
“That’s your best dress?” Theresa shook her head. “With all that brown, you’ll melt into the background.”
“That is the point, you know.” Nora pushed aside the jealousy and joined them. Whatever Theresa had planned, Nora’s clothing choice would be fine enough.
“I knew to come prepared.” Lydia checked the watch pinned to her shawl. “If we hurry, we can change her into her bridesmaid dress.”
“But your wedding isn’t until September. Why is my dress already made?”
“Because I know you and wanted to have something colorful on hand to force you to wear when I needed you to stand out.”
She shouldn’t be surprised by the audacity of her friend. They were more sisters than not.
“I brought the perfect jewelry set for it.” Flossie held up a rolled fabric case.
“You brought me a dress and jewelry? What are we doing? Helping you to elope early?” That couldn’t be the real reason. Lydia was spending too much time designing the perfect event, but why would Nora be required to wear something so vibrant?
“It’s my surprise to you.” Theresa looked far too pleased with herself for the anticipated event to be a welcomed one. “Consider it an early birthday present.”
“My birthday isn’t until November.”
“Good. That gives me plenty of time to forget what I’ve done and give you something else.” She looped her arm through Nora’s and tugged her toward the door. “Come on. We’re playing fairy godmothers.”
By the time Lydia, Theresa, and Flossie dressed her up like a porcelain doll, Nora didn’t recognize herself in the mirror.
Lydia had been right when they selected their fabrics for the wedding.
Emerald green really did suit Nora’s complexion and hair far better than the chocolate brown she’d originally chosen.
Unfortunately there was no place for her knitting needles, meaning she must forgo her primary sense of security.
Flossie had created a masterpiece with Nora’s stubbornly straight hair.
Faux pearl hairpins secured a crown of braids to the rolls of hair high on her head.
With matching earrings, necklace, and bracelets, the effect was stunning.
Lydia, Theresa, and Flossie truly had been fairy godmothers tonight. The question still remained, why?
No matter how Nora pressed for an answer, the trio remained silent. It wasn’t until the carriage stopped in line with the others in front of Pike’s Opera House that Nora realized what Theresa had done.
“This is your grand plan? To bring me to the opera I’d declined to attend?” Nora didn’t know whether to be furious with her friend for going against her wishes or elated she finally would view an opera as it was meant to be seen, from the house.
Theresa’s face scrunched. “Wait, this is an opera? As in, they’ll be singing? I thought it was a play!”
The misunderstanding served Theresa right. “Think of it as a play performed in song.”
“But don’t they sing in a foreign language?” Lydia asked as they passed into an elegant yet simple foyer. “How will we understand what is going on?”
“I believe Olivette has been translated into English, but even if it hasn’t been, you’ll be fine. One doesn’t go to the opera to understand the words, but to savor the music, admire the poignant acting, and be swept away by the sheer emotion of the experience.”
By Theresa’s horrified expression, she already regretted this surprise. Perfect. Although honestly, Nora couldn’t be more thrilled. This might be the only show she’d ever attend as an operagoer, and she intended to enjoy every moment of it.
While Theresa, Flossie, and Lydia speculated about the upcoming performance, Nora walked in silent awe, soaking up each detail.
The exquisite front of house was so different from the areas she’d been allowed to see as a child.
Here, marble floors echoed the hum of voices into the vast space.
A painter’s palette of colorful gowns strolled about on the arms of stoic black suits like their wearers had not a care in the world.
The wings had never been so calm. No doubt that even now, the performers and stagehands were dashing about in last-minute preparations.
Beyond the crush, three sets of double doors stood wide, welcoming guests into the auditorium.
If her friends would stop walking so slowly, she might actually get inside before the performance started and see what wonders awaited her.
She leaned to the side so she could see past a couple blocking her view and glimpsed row after row of finely upholstered seats.
“Good evening, Miss Davis.” Mr. Beaumont’s voice caught her by surprise, and she straightened to find him taking note of her obvious curiosity with a bemused smile.
Gracious! Mum would be disappointed at her lack of decorum.
It wasn’t as if this was the first opera house she’d ever been in.
It was just the first one in twelve years and her first one as a patron rather than an unwanted annoyance.
She schooled her features, nailing the lid shut on her curiosity and excitement.
And the unwelcome twinge of appreciation for the man’s good looks.
The magic of the opera house must be addling her brain, because Mr. Beaumont could have filled in for one of Lydia’s heroes, as attractive as he was tonight.
His suit showed a little wear, but it was tailored well and displayed his broad shoulders and solid frame.
He could definitely take on a villain or two and win.
Theresa offered him a polite curtsy. “Thank you for your help in arranging seats for us.”
The little sneak. She hadn’t gotten them tickets for a night together. This whole ruse—the dress, jewelry, and evening—were her attempt at matchmaking. And by the satisfied grins of Lydia and Flossie, Theresa hadn’t been alone in that endeavor.
“It is my pleasure, Miss Plane.” Mr. Beaumont’s smile, though friendly, appeared tired. “Am I to assume these are the friends you wrote about?”
Theresa made the necessary introductions. Like at their previous meeting, Mr. Beaumont was friendly and gentlemanly, but he made no attempt to flirt with Nora’s friends.
“I’ll show you to your seats, but sadly I cannot stay longer as I have duties behind the curtain I must attend to.
” He offered Nora his arm, which she couldn’t refuse without being unforgivably rude, and led them up the grand staircase.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I reserved balcony seats for you.
The music is best enjoyed from there, and I personally enjoy how much more one sees when above the stage. ”
“Thank you for the consideration. I’ve never been in the audience of a performance, so I wouldn’t have known.”
His head tilted as he stared at her. “Really? But your ma—”
“Never allowed me.” Well, it was more the managers, but it was close enough to the truth.
All that mattered was Nora cut off any possibility of his mentioning Mum’s name.
“It isn’t typical for one in her profession to acknowledge her child, let alone bring them along.
Female performers have more successful careers if they are seen as unattached. ”
Not that Mum followed the typical in anything, for which Nora was grateful.
Had she behaved as most, Nora would have been left to the care of some distant relative and largely forgotten.
Even back then, Nora had been aware of the ridicule Mum had endured at the hands of her colleagues by keeping Nora and Father close.
“So your ma was a professional singer.”
Nora sucked in a breath and silently berated herself for revealing Mum’s supposed delusion was at least partially true.
“Professional in that she traveled and was paid for performing, but she was no Adelina Patti.” But she could have been, had her career not been cut short by the kidnapper destroying their sense of security.