Chapter Nine
THE EXTRA REHEARSAL LAST NIGHT had been necessary, given the company hadn’t received the libretto and score for Olivette until three days ago, and Ezekiel wasn’t the only one suffering from it.
The universal lack of sleep was on full display in both the performers and staff.
Scene changes were rife with mistakes. Pieces were removed that needed to be left and others added that belonged to another opera completely.
More than once, one of the men at the fly rail had missed their whistled cue and left the stage exposed to view too long, or they had heard a whistle when there wasn’t one and nearly dropped the curtain in the middle of a scene.
As far as the performers went, the first two acts were fine.
However, the third was proving more difficult.
The prompter spoke often enough it was sure to be noticed by the house and mentioned in tomorrow’s reviews.
Poor Miss Stella was the worst off. Not only was she performing a principal part in an unfamiliar operetta, she was sick to the point of being near a faint.
Between scenes, she lay as pale and green as a seasick ghost on the wing’s floor.
However, the show must go on, and Miss Stella upheld that motto.
She might feel like dying in the wings, but on stage she performed like she felt the best of her life.
It would surprise Ezekiel if anyone in the audience suspected her ill.
Still, he kept an eye on her and prayed she wouldn’t faint during “No! No! ’Tis You. ”
Ezekiel rubbed the grit from his eyes, then studied the meticulously notated score before him.
Two more pieces, and only one of them included singing.
Behind him the chorus completed the last of their seven wardrobe changes, leaving piles of costumes shoved against the wall in their rush to be back on stage in time.
He should be grateful the mess meant there might be a few performers still around when he finally gave Miss Davis her tour, but honestly, he’d rather not give the tour tonight, with as tired as he was.
But a promise was a promise, and he wouldn’t give Miss Davis cause to think less of him.
After some dialogue, a short musical interlude of “Marche Militaire,” and the finale “All Is Ended,” the house burst into rapturous applause.
Ezekiel edged closer to the stage than he typically allowed and sought the spot in the balcony where he’d left Miss Davis and her friends.
She clapped in a subdued manner while her friends shared their exuberant appreciation of the performance.
Had she not enjoyed it? Perhaps he’d misjudged her tolerance of things related to the opera.
While roles where women played men were common, Miss Soldene liked to press the boundaries of the acceptable.
Her productions were known for costumes that accentuated her female performers’ physical attributes in ways that were often close to scandalous.
Some critics compared Miss Soldene’s productions to a burlesque.
Encores were called for Miss Stella to sing her crying song, and it was several more minutes before the curtain dropped and the house rumbled with the audience’s exit.
Weary performers wandered offstage as Ezekiel carefully returned the call cards to their proper places in his prompt book.
Miss Soldene instructed the chorus to straighten up the costumes and reminded everyone to return tomorrow at eleven for the matinee performance at two.
Formally dismissed, Ezekiel rushed to his office to put away his prompt book before meeting Miss Davis and her friends at the cloakroom.
Adler joined him in the hall as Ezekiel locked the office. “Someone mentioned you had lady friends in attendance tonight. Did any of them happen to be Constanza Brisbane and her daughter?”
Ezekiel tensed. Adler had been pointed and persistent in his interest in meeting Mrs. Brisbane ever since her name had come up.
Thankfully, the last two performances for the Soldene Opera Company were tomorrow, then Adler would be on his way to Chicago.
Unfortunately that didn’t help Ezekiel’s current predicament.
Miss Davis and her friends waited for him by the cloakroom, but the last thing he wanted to do was expose them to Adler.
Especially since Adler had described Miss Davis’s appearance.
“No, the ladies were acquaintances for whom I obtained seats for tonight’s performance. I’m certain they’re long gone by now.” Ezekiel faked a yawn, but it turned real. “I’m dead on my feet and heading straight home to bed. You?”
“As long as I don’t fall asleep in a gutter on the way.” Adler chuckled. “I’ve not got enough for a hack, so it will be walking for me.”
Ezekiel was more than happy to sacrifice his hack money for tonight if it meant getting Adler out of the building sooner. “Here. Don’t do that. I need you here for the next two performances, or Crosley will have my head.”
Adler accepted the coins and lifted them in salute. “Thank you.”
Ezekiel walked with him to the alley exit, then used the excuse of forgetting his coat to leave Adler. He waited a minute more in the hall, just to be sure Adler didn’t double back, then strode to the front of house, where the foyer stood nearly empty.
Miss Davis and her friends waited by the cloakroom with their coats in hand.
When they didn’t immediately notice his approach, he stopped to openly admire the difference a well-suited dress made.
He’d always thought Miss Davis pretty, but the ensemble flattered her shape and softened her features in a riveting way.
With her relaxed posture and unguarded expression, she even appeared approachable. It was a remarkable illusion.
“I still say we wore our pants better than those chorus girls did.” Miss Plane’s comment echoed in the large space.
“Hush. You can’t go around saying things like that.” Miss Pelton glanced around, seemingly embarrassed by the curious statement. She spotted Ezekiel, and her pleasure at catching him so brazenly admiring her friend could rival Tristan’s with a fish fillet. “Mr. Beaumont, you’ve come at last.”
Miss Davis immediately discarded any semblance of openness as she faced him.
Was he wasting his time and energy by pursuing a woman who gave him no encouragement?
Then again, it had only been a couple days, and nothing worth pursuing was won that quickly.
He needed more time . . . and sleep. Lots of sleep.
He smiled and closed the distance between her and her party. “How did you find the balcony seats?”
“They provided the perfect view, just as you promised,” Miss Davis answered.
“The perfect view of the performance or of me?”
“I’ll leave you to guess that answer.”
Was that a smile she held back? One could only hope. “Oh, come now, Miss Davis. Would it be so terrible to admit you sought me out on more than one occasion?”
A slight flush appeared. “It would indeed . . . even if true.” She mumbled the last part, and it pleased him to no end.
Maybe he’d made more progress than he’d thought.
“It’s nice to know you were at least curious about what I did in the wings.
Although it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you desired to admire my rugged good looks.
” Her lips parted, and he rushed on before she could crush what little encouragement he’d taken.
“If you are still interested in the tour, I can give you a glimpse of what happens behind the mysterious curtain. What do you say?”
“She says yes.” Miss Gibson spoke for Miss Davis, then took her arm and nodded for him to lead the way. “I’ve never been behind the curtain before. What is it like during a performance?”
Ezekiel had no trouble filling the brief tour with anecdotes of his three years managing the opera house.
He stuck mostly to humorous stories, like the time an actor’s pants split while on the stage, but he still had an entire scene to perform.
He’d done all sorts of maneuvering to hide the unfortunate exposure from the audience.
Ezekiel had a callboy rush to the costume closet and find a spare pair of pants.
None were available, and the pants had to be sewn up while on his person as the actor waited for his next cue to go on stage.
No one in the house was the wiser, but the actor had endured much ribbing afterward.
Miss Davis did not laugh as her friends did, but she did partially smile once—a victory that made staying longer all the more worth it.
They entered the greenroom to find a handful of chorus members gobbling up the remaining food.
After introductions, Miss Gibson, Miss Plane, and Miss Pelton eagerly conversed with them, exclaiming over the independence the female performers had that most women did not.
Miss Davis hung back like she sought to be a forgotten shadow.
This was not going as he’d hoped. Instead of becoming more open, she had closed herself off more.
He drew her aside. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to know or see? A person you’d like to meet?”
“No. I’ve been taking it all in. I’m a listener, remember? Although—” She shut her mouth on whatever thought she’d almost expressed.
“Although what? If it’s within my power, I’ll do it.”
“There was a man—tall, thin, and balding. Is he still here?”
“No. He’s left.” Had he been mistaken about the nature of Adler’s interest? “Do you know Adam Adler?”
Miss Davis’s shoulders relaxed. “No, I guess not.”
Good. He’d made the right decision. “I’m honestly surprised anyone is still here. Between the full rehearsal after last night’s show, our normal morning rehearsal, and then this evening’s performance, we’re all exhausted.”
Her usual mask slipped and revealed her appall. “And yet you’re giving us this tour?”