City of Ash (40 page)

The house was quiet, as it always was. From this parlor I could not hear the sounds in the kitchen. How many hours had I spent here, completely alone, cocooned in silence and boredom? I realized suddenly and forcefully how much I despised this room.

I moved to the hallway doors, glancing behind me at Mrs. Wilkes, who was looking around as if she’d come into a foreign land. I mouthed
quickly
, and she came up beside me as I leaned against the door, listening. I was just turning the knob when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and I went still, holding my breath, Mrs. Wilkes frozen beside me as we waited to see if the steps would stop at these doors, but they only paused a little.

I heard a call, “Anna! Come help me with this rug if you please!” and a louder, “I’m coming,” as Anna hurried down the hallway.

Everything was silent again.

I glanced at Mrs. Wilkes. “Are you ready?” I whispered, and she nodded, and I opened the door just enough to peer out, to be certain. The hall was empty. As we went into it, the floor creaked beneath our footsteps; it seemed as if the sound echoed up the stairs and down to the kitchen. I rushed to the door of Nathan’s study; Mrs. Wilkes was so close behind me she stumbled on the hem of my dress. It was not until we were safely within that I could breathe again. The last time I’d been in this
room I’d discovered Nathan’s plan, and the memory of it hit me hard again; I had to work to contain my fury.

Mrs. Wilkes stood by the door as I went to the cigar stand. I flipped the latch and took out the box of cigars, the fragrance of tobacco easing through the smoke that seemed to have seared my nostrils. The key was where I’d left it, slid to the back, and I grabbed it and replaced the cigars, closing the small door again with a little click.

I went behind the desk, kneeling in a billow of filthy skirts, opening the cabinet to reveal the face of the safe.

Mrs. Wilkes said, “Are those real jewels in that clock?”

I glanced over my shoulder. She was staring at the small hanging desk clock on Nathan’s desk, a gift from me on our third wedding anniversary. Irritably, I said, “Keep your voice down.”

She whispered, “Are they real?”

“Yes, of course.” I was nervous. I dropped the key. It clattered on the wood at the edge of the carpet and skittered.

“There are a lot of beautiful things in this house,” Mrs. Wilkes murmured.

I felt anxiously for the key. “I suppose so.” I could not find it. Not where it should be. Not along the wall.

“You’re richer than I thought.”

There
. In the corner. I felt the rod with relief. “You’ve heard of Stratford Mining? That’s my father.” The key was in my hand. I set it into the lock.

“Your father is the Stratford in Stratford Mining?” Her voice was flat with disbelief.

“Yes.” I twisted the key.

“Are you—”

The slam of the front door cut her dead. I heard the quick footsteps of the maid, her higher voice, then lower tones. Tones I recognized. I glanced with horror at Mrs. Wilkes, who had gone suddenly pale.
Nathan
.

“Christ,” she said.

I pulled the key from the lock, shutting the cabinet door. Nathan’s footsteps were coming down the hall. In a panic, I said, “You can’t let him see me.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you have to. You said you’d stand guard.”

“I didn’t think—”

“Please.”
I didn’t try to hide my fear. “Distract him until I can find a way out of here.”

“Distract him?” Her own voice was nervous and fast. “How?”

“I don’t know. Tell him you’ve come to see him.”

“But then he’ll think I—”

I squeezed the key so hard the pins bit into my palm. “You’re his mistress, aren’t you?
Do it
. Meet me after … at the Boston block.”

Nathan’s voice came closer. “I’ll have dinner later,” he was telling Bonnie. “Don’t disturb me. I’ll call for it when I’m ready.” He was coming to his study; there was no doubt.

I crawled beneath the desk, curling in as small a ball as I could, pulling my skirt in tight around me. She cursed and seated herself on the edge of the desk. The hem of her skirt blocked whatever he could see of me.

The door opened. Nathan stepped inside. I heard him pause; my breathing came so fast and hard I thought he must surely hear it. When he said, “Ginny,” in a rough and startled voice, I thought he’d seen me. Panicked, I glanced around to see what was showing—

“Not Ginny,” Mrs. Wilkes said, low and smooth, the voice I’d only ever heard onstage. “It’s me. Bea.”

“Dear God.” He sounded choked. “For a moment, I thought.… What the hell are you doing here? Bonnie didn’t tell me—”

“She didn’t know.” Her foot came down. “I snuck in. I was afraid your maid wouldn’t let me in. But I … I’ve been waiting for you.”

“For God’s sake, I don’t have time for this now.” His voice was tight with exasperation. “Please go. I’ve been all day in the ruins looking for my wife. I’ve business—” He moved toward the desk. She stepped in front of him.

“I had to know you were all right,” she said.

“Yes, of course I am. Didn’t your manager tell you?”

“Yes, but I had to see for myself. Don’t be angry. Please, Nathan.”

An irritated sigh. Another step. Another forestalling. “I’m not angry. But this is a devil of a time—”

“I’m sorry, I just.…” Her voice trailed off.

I heard the catch of Nathan’s breath and wondered what she was doing to him. I could see nothing but their feet. She stepped forward, her foot between his, her skirt wrapping about his ankle, and Nathan made a little sound deep in his throat, a sound I knew, and I shut my eyes with loathing and resentment and gripped the key harder.

She whispered something; I could not make out the words. He hesitated. Then quick steps. They were at the door, and then they were out, and the door closed behind them, and I was undiscovered.

I let out my breath in relief. How close I’d come to being found, too close. Thank God she’d been here to distract him. Now that they were gone, I didn’t linger. Who knew how long she could manage to keep him? I crawled from beneath the desk and went to the safe again, my hands steady now. I inserted the key and twisted it, pulling the safe door open, reaching inside to find—

Nothing.

I frowned and felt around again. There was nothing. Disbelieving, I bent to look inside. The safe was completely empty. The household money was gone.

I swept my fingers over every surface, cursing beneath my breath when it didn’t suddenly appear. I’d counted on that money. Everything I’d risked to get here … Now what was I to do?

I locked the safe again, closing the cabinet, rising. I leaned against Nathan’s desk, staring unseeingly down at the papers there, trying to think of any other place in the house where cash was kept. There was none that I knew. I would have to come up with another plan. Perhaps I could sell one of my jewels. Surely there would be a pawnbroker somewhere? I couldn’t be the only one needing money. Perhaps I would have to wait a few days longer, hidden away, but it was better than nothing. And it would take time for Nathan to discover what I’d done. Long enough for me to get to San Francisco and perhaps farther.

But then I remembered Mrs. Wilkes, upstairs with my husband. I could not go up there now. The risk was too great.

I glanced at the clock on the desk. At the sapphires and rubies glinting in a Turkish-styled design. I couldn’t retrieve my jewels, not yet, but there was this, winking as if to say
Take me
.

I reached for the clock, shoving the stand a little in my haste, and then I heard Bonnie’s footsteps in the hall, her voice—“I’ll do the study next then. Just let me get the polish.” And her footsteps faded away again, and I knew I had no time. I had to get out of here. I shoved the clock into my pocket, and made myself move. I put the key back and somehow managed to avoid running into Bonnie as I made my way surreptitiously back down the hall, into the parlor. And once I was in the yard again, I ran. I did not stop until I was two blocks away.

Then I concentrated on staying in the shadows, on turning away from passing carriages and wagons. I did not slow until I was past the houses and back into the desolate, alien landscape, until I found refuge at the back of the Boston block, and there I leaned back against the wall and waited for her to return.

Beatrice

I
knew what Nathan liked, of course, and so it took almost nothing to seduce him, though I would have done almost anything else had I the choice. But I knew by the way he looked at me—once he’d got over his shock that I wasn’t her—that I wouldn’t get out of this house without fucking him, and I
resented her for putting me in the position, for her assumption that I would do it to save her, and
here you are, Bea, doing it, just as she wanted
, and I was angry for that too.

But I was also relieved when he took me out of that study, because there was a moment there where I thought maybe he’d have me on the floor in front of her, though he wouldn’t know it. And when he took me upstairs I was glad that I’d given her the opportunity to get the money and escape, and I told myself I was doing it not just for her, but for myself too.

He opened a door and nearly pushed me inside. I’d assumed it would be his bedroom, but I knew in a moment that it was hers instead. Chintz curtains and a bedcover in a pale green. A dressing table set with crystal bottles, a rosewood jewel box, silver-backed hairbrushes. Beautiful, expensive things, just as downstairs was littered with beautiful, expensive things. I remembered what she’d said about being the daughter of Stratford Mining, and that stirred something in my head, some thought that I couldn’t gain hold of right away, because I was distracted by her scent, which I hadn’t realized I’d noticed before. Something like almond. She was in every inch of this room, and I turned to Nathan in dismay and said, “This is your wife’s bedroom.”

He didn’t answer. Instead he cupped my chin between his fingers hard and jerked me close, and then he was all over me, pulling off his clothes and mine until I wore only my boots and stockings—nothing but holes and runs now—and the smell of the fire on my skin rose through her almond perfume when he pushed me onto the bed and climbed on top of me. I wished he hadn’t come home. I wished the money she’d promised me was in my hands, and I was on my way to paying someone to take her out of town, on my way to Sebastian’s tent—

I closed my eyes, forcing that thought away.

Nathan grunted hard, an expulsion of breath against my skin, a hard little thrust of his hips, and then he was done. He pushed himself off and said nastily, “My God, you stink of smoke.”

“Living through a fire will do that to a person.” I raised myself onto my elbows. “I nearly died in that theater, you know.”

He said, “Did you see her there? Did you see my wife when the fire broke out?”

He stared at me so intently, as if he could wring the truth from me if he stared hard enough, but I wasn’t an actress for nothing. I met his gaze and said, “I was in the greenroom. Brody said she left before the others.”

“No one’s seen her.”

“She must be around somewhere.”

He laughed, this hard, short sound, and put his face in his hand as if he were too weary to think. “Goddammit, this was supposed to be over by now. Trust Ginny to ruin it.”

“Ruin what?” I was confused. “What was supposed to be over?”

He shook his head a little and then looked back at me, his gaze burning, reminding me of the way Aloys looked when he played Macbeth, which was not a comforting thought. “I went to the ruins today. To search for her body.”

I winced. “Yes. Lucius told me. Did you find anything?”

“Not in the ashes, but … I thought I saw her.”

There was not one other thing he could have said that would have surprised me more. He’d seen her, and she’d said nothing of it to me. This whole drama had been unnecessary. I had been right not to trust her. “You saw her?”

“I chased after her, but she disappeared.”

Carefully, I said, “Maybe it wasn’t her you saw.”

“Don’t you think I know my own wife?”

“Then why would she run from you?”

“A good question,” he said. “Why would she run from her own husband? It doesn’t make sense, does it? I’d thought … ah, never mind. It can’t be true.”

“What can’t be true?”

He sighed. “Before the fire, she was acting strangely. Lately I’ve been wondering if perhaps she was … ill.”

I frowned. “Ill? With what?”

“Insanity,” he said shortly. “Surely you saw signs of it too. Do you think acting in the theater the mark of a sane woman?”

“Well, yes. That’s what I do, after all.”

He waved that away. “Even you must see the difference between a cheap actress and my wife. You can’t think I actually
approved of her taking to the stage? She’s a Stratford, for God’s sake.”

I chose to ignore his insult. “Then why didn’t you stop her?”

“One doesn’t stop Geneva Langley. One simply endures. She’s become more and more unbalanced over the last few months. I’m not the only one who’s noticed it. Our entire social circle has. The truth is that she hasn’t been herself for some time, and now this … How else to explain why she hasn’t come home? She’s either dead or deranged.”