Chapter Twenty-Nine
EZEKIEL WASN’T ONE TO GIVE credence to the superstitions that many performers believed, but he did avoid quoting or speaking the name of the “Scottish Play” within a theatre’s walls.
Whether or not a curse truly existed, it never failed to make the cast anxious, and unexplained incidents always followed.
Thanks to the skeptical new stagehand who thought it would be funny not only to quote Macbeth but to name the Scottish Play while on stage, the morning had been one disaster after another.
Already a sandbag had broken loose from one of the fly rails and almost crushed his fastest callboy, three performers had succumbed to suspected food poisoning, and currently an actor was getting stitches after a glass broke in his hand while in the greenroom.
The remaining healthy cast had the foolish stagehand cornered and was demanding he perform the curse-breaking ritual.
Ezekiel eyed the small mob. Should he stop, ignore, or join them?
He didn’t believe the ritual had the power to stop anything, but it also wouldn’t hurt the man.
The worst that could happen was the cast not allow him back in the building after shoving him outside to spin around three times, utter the worst curse he could think of, spit over his shoulder, and then ask to be let back in.
A few minutes stuck in the cold might be just the lesson he needed.
Ezekiel joined Keene leaning against the wall as they watched the man being harangued. “I don’t think we’ll get a focused rehearsal out of this crew. What do you say to adjourning and returning early for a quick run-through?”
Keene rubbed his bare chin. “A wise idea. My troupe has performed Othello dozens of times, but this whole Scottish Play business has them rattled. A break to collect themselves will do them good. We’ll meet back here at two.”
There went Ezekiel’s afternoon with Nora.
While the cast enjoyed their break, he and the rest of the stagehands would do a thorough check of all the equipment and props.
Perhaps that was for the best. He still hadn’t heard back from Miss Soldene, and he’d instructed the message to be delivered here.
Besides, his primary job was to ensure everyone’s safety, and all these mishaps made it clear he’d grown lax in checking the equipment.
The fly crew didn’t even grumble when he told them they’d be staying and inspecting every aspect of the fly system.
A good many of them were former sailors who knew the dangers of poorly maintained rigging.
The callboy Ezekiel recruited to deliver an apology to Nora joined the outflow of performers, which left an empty stage in a matter of minutes.
Once certain no one lingered about, Ezekiel gave the whistle cue to indicate to the flymen that they were clear to begin, and then he made his way to the prop room.
There were a fair number of swords and potentially dangerous items there.
They might belong to Keene, but Ezekiel wasn’t taking any risks.
The last thing he needed was a blade separating from the hilt at an inopportune moment.
He hadn’t been working long when a knock against the wall pulled his attention away from tightening screws on the chair that would carry Cassio.
Nora stood in her coat, hands primly folded in front of her and her awful mask in place.
Great. Did that mean he was in trouble? Sending a penned note to her would have been more prudent than a verbal message. Who knew what that boy had actually said. Ezekiel rose, greeting her as he did. “I’m sorry I canceled our lunch plans. I hope you’ll forgive me. It’s been an awful morning.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She looked around as though only now realizing the area was far too empty for a typical rehearsal. “Where is everyone?”
Something in her voice wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t put his finger on what he heard. “Didn’t my callboy tell you? We ended rehearsal early so I could conduct safety checks, but that also means the cast will be returning much earlier to do another run.”
“No, I must have left before he arrived. I . . . I guess I should go so you can work.” She turned to leave.
He caught her hand. “Nora, if you didn’t know, why are you here when you thought I’d be working? What’s wrong?” Had Adler or Mrs. Reed made an appearance? He should have voiced his concerns the second he’d suspected their identities.
Though the rest of her face remained impassive, raw fear tightened the skin around her eyes. “It’s nothing. I’ll go to the Guardians.” She winced. “I should have thought of them first anyway.”
“I like being your first thought when something’s upsetting you.” He drew her deeper into the room. “Here. Test this chair for me, and tell me what happened while I work.” Lord, please don’t let it be something to do with Adler or Mrs. Reed.
“Test it?”
“It was a little loose, but I’ve tightened it now.”
She looked skeptically at it before gingerly sitting. It held without a creak. Hopefully it would hold a man nearly twice her size during tonight’s performance. Needing something to do with his nervous energy until she gathered her thoughts, he pulled a sword from the barrel and inspected it.
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“How about whatever comes to mind first? We can sort things out and make sense of them as they arise.”
“A pragmatic approach, but I’m afraid all my thoughts are crashing together, and I’m not sure we can make sense of any of them.”
Ezekiel gestured to the object-filled room around them.
“It’s my job to take chaos and bring it into order without losing the beauty of story.
Most often it’s a new project every day, so I have to be quick on my feet.
I promise, you won’t lose me in the mess of your thoughts.
” “I’m not afraid of losing you in the mess. More like scaring you off.”
He laid the sword aside and pulled another. “Don’t worry, I’m well-armed.” He took up an en garde stance and feinted a lunge. At her crack of a smile, he lowered his weapon. “So what are you thinking right now?”
“That you’d make a terrible fencer with that poor form.”
“You’re right. I’m much better with a broadsword and slaying dragons. No good form required. Just strength and wit.”
“I’m not sure this is a dragon you can slay.” She nibbled on her bottom lip before blurting, “Do you ever fear becoming your mum?”
His tension released with a breath. Good.
This wasn’t about Adler or Mrs. Reed. Still, that was quite a thought.
“Not particularly.” At her oh, he realized he probably should have lied and said yes to put her at ease.
“But that’s not to say I’d think any less of you if you feared it of me or for yourself. ”
“So you wouldn’t end our courtship and run far away if I said that I constantly feel like I’m being watched and followed? Or that I see imaginary people?” There was a challenge to her tone, and he couldn’t determine if she was serious or merely giving an outlandish example to unsettle him.
He returned the sword to the barrel and pulled a chair from the corner.
Once across from her, he took her hands and leaned forward until she couldn’t escape his gaze.
“I’m not going anywhere. After all you’ve been through, I would think it normal for you to experience those things.
Especially given Winston has never been arrested and your parents still fear for your safety. ”
She nodded but didn’t speak.
“Have you been feeling like you’re being followed and watched?”
One hand pulled free and went to that cameo.
With how often she’d been rubbing it of late, it was a wonder the silhouette hadn’t been smoothed away by her touch.
He wanted to pull her hand back down and stop her, but as it seemed to give her some measure of comfort, he focused on the fear not even her attempt at a blank face could hide.
“Yes.” The word came out as a whisper. “I think Father may have been right about staying away from the opera. Until I attended Olivette, the only thing I felt followed by was Flossie’s annoying puppy.”
An uneasy prickle marched down his spine. Part of him had hoped he’d been wrong about Adler, but if this was going where he suspected, there would be no denying he was responsible for putting Nora in danger.
She dropped her chin, severing her gaze from his. “During the performance, I had a fit of nerves. I couldn’t breathe, and all I wanted to do was run from the building. There was something about one of the actors that made me feel as I had when taken.”
Ezekiel closed his eyes and drew a slow breath. There went any possibility of denial. Whether or not she recognized Adler as Winston, her subconscious had.
“I dismissed it, but when I arrived home and was moving from the carriage to the house, I heard the same voice call me Eleonora. No one except Mum has called me that since we left New York. Since then, I often feel as though Winston is watching me, following my every errand. I’m afraid I’m going crazy like Mum. ”
“You’re not going—”
“You don’t understand. It gets worse. I’ve seen him, spoken to him, felt his suffocating grip over my nose and mouth.” Her hand trembled as she lifted it to her lips.
He shot to his feet, ready to storm from the building and hunt down that brute. How dare Adler touch her. The man belonged in prison, not on a stage. If Ezekiel ever saw his face again, it would be Ezekiel’s hands on Adler’s throat.
“Except I’m not sure it even happened.”
His internal tirade skidded to a stop. He blinked, silently repeated her words, then frowned as he sat. “What do you mean you’re not sure?”
She wouldn’t look at him, just continued to rub the necklace. “I was home alone on Saturday when Winston and Ursula attacked me in my bedroom—”