City of Ash (18 page)

H
e was there that night, just as he’d promised he would be. When I left the stage and went to change, he was lingering in the shadows, and I smiled at him, but Nathan had been in his box tonight, which meant I only had a few minutes to change.

I was taking off my makeup when Susan flounced in, saying, “You coming to the Pitcher with us?”

The Broken Pitcher was the saloon where I’d first met Nathan, and tonight was Stella’s last night. She was leaving tomorrow for San Francisco. No one would think it odd if I didn’t go—we weren’t exactly friends, after all, but I might have gone if I hadn’t had Nathan to tend. When I said as much to Susan, she said, “Bring him along. Hell, he’d probably enjoy himself.”

I didn’t think he would, and he wasn’t a patient man besides. I didn’t imagine Nathan Langley would take well to delaying his fuck so I could have a beer. But when I came out of my dressing room, and he was standing there, looking elegant in his perfect coat and vest, his hair shining in the half-light of backstage, I found myself saying, “Tonight’s Stella’s farewell party. Everyone’s going to the Broken Pitcher.”

“Does that mean you’d like to attend as well?” he asked.

“If you don’t want to …”

He glanced into the shadows. “I see DeWitt loitering about, as usual. Is he going?”

“I don’t know.” I looked over my shoulder. “Mr. DeWitt, are you coming to the Pitcher tonight?”

He emerged from the shadows like some demon king, glancing at Nathan. “I hadn’t decided.”

To my surprise, Nathan said to him, “Come along then, and it won’t be a complete waste of time. I have something to discuss with you.”

That surprised me even more, you know, because, beyond the play he’d bought for me, I didn’t think Nathan had much to do with the mechanics of the production, or that he knew DeWitt
well enough to have anything to discuss, and he didn’t seem the kind of patron to trouble much with the
art
. It made me a bit uncomfortable to think of them in the same room, and how I’d have to somehow please them both, and I was just thinking the whole thing was more trouble than it was worth when DeWitt said, “I’m at your beck and call, Mr. Langley, as always.”

Nathan said, “Come along then. You can ride in my carriage.”

And that was even more uncomfortable. We went to the carriage, and Nathan handed me in and sat beside me, very close—not that he could do otherwise in such a small space—and Sebastian DeWitt sat opposite me, his knees brushing my skirts, and looked at me with those strange eyes, and even though his desire was banked, I felt it.

We’d barely started before Nathan said to DeWitt, “Enjoy the occasional beer, do you?”

It was the kind of stupid, casual comment men often made to each other, and I rolled my eyes as I stared out the window and waited for Sebastian DeWitt to make some stupid comment back, when he said instead,

“You heard.”

“The whole city heard. It’s all anyone’s talking about.”

People were talking about Sebastian DeWitt having a beer?
I frowned and looked back at Nathan, who ignored me.

DeWitt said, “It was nothing, just—”

“Just a beer, I know,” Nathan said. He was smiling. “Drinking. Talking. You know, Mr. DeWitt, you may be one of the best investments I’ve ever made.”

I was confused, and it was clear DeWitt was as well. His gaze met mine for a moment before he looked back at Nathan. “It won’t happen again.”

“Now, now, Mr. DeWitt, do you want to be a famous playwright or not?”

“Not at someone else’s expense,” DeWitt said.

“No one’s paying any price.” Nathan leaned forward reassuringly—or as reassuringly as that smile could make him, which wasn’t much. “You’re gaining quite a name around town, which is exactly what we want. Why, think what it will do when your
play finally debuts. Every seat will be full. And with society, no less, which can hardly serve you ill.”

Now he had my attention. “Society? But the Regal gets society all the time.”

Nathan didn’t look at me. His gaze was focused on Sebastian DeWitt. “Not like this, my dear. When I say the seats will be full, I meant not just one or two coming for an occasional evening’s entertainment, but people like the Dennys. Governor Semple. How will it feel, do you think, to know the most powerful people in the city are watching you?”

I glanced at DeWitt, whose expression had gone very still.

“Lucius would be over the moon,” I said.

“Perhaps he would even give you a raise, my dear,” Nathan said. “And from everything I hear, this play—what is it called again?”

“
Penelope Justis,
” DeWitt answered.

“Yes, this
Penelope Justis
—I’ve heard it’s a masterpiece.”

“It is nearly that,” I said, quietly now, because there were undercurrents here I didn’t understand, and I didn’t like the way Sebastian DeWitt looked, as if he might be sick.

“If it is, it’s because the actors will make it so,” he said.

“Mr. DeWitt is too modest,” I said.

“So I hear.” Again, Nathan smiled. “How easily you make the world fall in love with you, Mr. DeWitt. Why, you’re a veritable talent in many, many ways, aren’t you? Do you know, I think I should like to see one talent in particular put to use.”

They stared at each other, and I had this nasty sense that they were fighting some kind of duel, only with words and meanings that weren’t what they seemed to be, and I wished I hadn’t decided to go to the Broken Pitcher after all. Because then Nathan and I would already be in my room, and he’d be thinking of nothing but getting my clothes off, and this baiting of Sebastian DeWitt—if that’s what it was—wouldn’t be happening, and I wouldn’t be feeling as if I somehow needed to come to his rescue when I couldn’t even see if he was in trouble.

“I think you misunderstand me,” DeWitt said quietly. “My interests lie in a different direction.”

“Do they?” Nathan looked surprised. “How fascinating. But should you want to change your mind … well, you have my permission. In fact, I encourage it.”

DeWitt glanced at me. “Let’s not speak of this now.”

“Of course,” Nathan said smoothly. “There’s no need to speak of it again. So long as we understand each other.”

“We do,” DeWitt said shortly.

“Well, I don’t,” I said, because I couldn’t help myself, and then I wished I hadn’t said anything when Nathan put his arm around my shoulders and let his hand dangle to caress my breast. I saw how DeWitt’s gaze snapped there, and I had to resist the urge to bat Nathan away.

“It’s business, my dear. Nothing for you to concern yourself with.” Nathan’s voice was forceful, and a little needling too, I thought, as if he noticed the way DeWitt was looking at us.

DeWitt slid his gaze to the window. We came to a stop, and I was never so glad to get out of a carriage in my life. Whatever this game was, I didn’t want any part of it; I had enough trouble keeping the players straight in my own.

DeWitt was the first out, and he strode to the door of the Broken Pitcher without waiting for Nathan and me, which was a relief, and Nathan took my arm as if I were a lady he was escorting to some fancy dress ball instead of just into a tavern where the only dancing was when some drunk took it into his head to reel to the tune of a tone-deaf fiddler.

Most of the others were already there. Aloys and Brody and Jack and Stella and Mrs. Chace gathered around tables they’d pushed together, and Stella laughed and hung on Jack, and I could tell she’d already had one or two drinks by the way her cheeks were flushed, though she couldn’t have been there long. DeWitt went to the bar, and Nathan went to get me a beer, and it was all I could do to keep from looking at them to see if they were talking again.

“There you are, Bea!” Brody motioned me over to the table, and when I went to him, he said to me in a low voice, “Stella says she’s playing at the Elysium next.”

“There’s an appropriate name,” I said, “as she’ll no doubt put them to sleep.”

We both laughed, and then Jack made some sally and Stella gave him a wet kiss and spilled her drink all over her breasts, which set Jack wiping furiously with a handkerchief, and I forgot about Nathan and DeWitt for a time, except to see that they weren’t together. Nathan lounged against the bar, looking for all the world like an indulgent, rich prince, and DeWitt sat watching the way he always did. I liked the way they both had their eyes on me, and I was half aware of putting on a show for them, laughing prettily, flirting with Jack and Aloys, cocking my hip just so as I leaned against the table.

Brody said, “Well, why don’t you leave again tomorrow, Stella, an’ we can have another party.”

Stella pursed her mouth in a pretty little moue I’d seen her practice a hundred times before the mirror. “Then I’d be late for my
debut
”—a quick, feline glance at me—“and that would be
unforgivable
. They tell me the theater is already sold out, and subscriptions are up ten percent.”

“They go up ten percent at the Palace when Johnny Langford books that cat who can carry a bottle,” I said. “So you’re in good company.”

Jack laughed, and she boxed his ears, but he was drunk, and that only made him laugh some more, and for the next hour and a half, we were as bosom friends, joking and laughing and singing at the top of our voices, and Aloysius and I acted out the scene from
Baron Rudolph
where Rudolph comes home drunk and his wife leaves him, and it was so affecting I saw tears in the eyes of bar patrons who might have thought it was real—because they were as drunk as most of us were, and when I cried out, “You shall never see your son again!” some man at the bar jerked to his feet as if he might come at me, and shouted, “You cruel bitch! You can’t do that to the man!”

Nathan stirred from his place against the bar and said something to him. I don’t know what it was, but it calmed the man down enough that he just cried piteously into his beer. I glanced at Sebastian DeWitt, who was watching me with this thoughtful little expression. Then Nathan came over and took my arm and whispered, “What a good show, my dear,” and I knew he had delayed as long as he was going to, and I forgot about DeWitt.

I said my good-byes, and Nathan took me out to the carriage and back to my room, and after he’d had me—no gentleness this time either, and there was that anger again that I didn’t understand—he rolled off me and onto his back and said, “Do you and your friends do such things often?”

It took me a moment to know what he was talking about. “Oh, you mean the play. Now and again. When we feel like having fun.”

“It doesn’t bother you that people think it’s real?”

I shrugged. “Not really.”

“Well, it was very clever,” he said in this thoughtful way that made me a little uncomfortable. He rose and began to dress.

I said, “Should I expect you tomorrow night?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I imagine not. I should tend to my wife.”

“Tend to her? Is she ill?”

He laughed shortly. “More so than she realizes, I think.”

I had no idea what the hell that meant, and I didn’t care either, and I fell silent as he finished dressing. When he went to the door, he was laughing again, low and quiet beneath his breath, the way he’d done the night he’d made me wear the cloak, and this time I asked, “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking of you and your fellows tonight.”

“I’m glad we amused you.”

Nathan’s hand was on the doorknob, and he turned and smiled at me. “Oh, you did. You don’t know how much.”

And then he was gone, and I was left wondering if there was some way to end things with Nathan Langley without losing everything he’d given me, because I was discovering that I really didn’t like him at all.

Geneva

M
y evening with Sebastian DeWitt had left me with more than thoughts that leaped often and regularly to the stage; it had also left me with a slight cold, and one that settled into my throat.

Nathan eyed me dispassionately when I complained and said, “Did you enjoy the café, at least?”

I looked at him in surprise. “The café?”

“It was the talk of the Relief Society, I hear,” he said wryly. “You should have been a bit more circumspect, darling. Did you not see John Barrister sitting at the table next to yours?”

John Barrister. I vaguely remembered seeing a man I recognized, though I still could not have put this name to him. Nathan did not seem upset, but I rushed to say, “It was nothing. Mr. DeWitt and I had a beer, that’s all. We discussed his play. There was nothing wrong in it. I cannot help small minds that would see something untoward in my every action. And you
did
tell me to guide Mr. DeWitt.”

Nathan eyed me thoughtfully. “So I did. But you must be a bit more careful, my dear. Slowly, remember.”

I looked studiously down into my tea. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I was too … enthusiastic.”

“Your usual flaw,” Nathan said with a smile. “Well, no harm’s done this time, I think.”

The charm of the old Nathan, with none of the anger, and though I should have been relieved, I was still wary. But before
I could speak, I was racked by a paroxysm of coughing. When it was over, I found Nathan watching me with concern.