He tapped the wall in an effort to find the mechanism that would open the entrance, but before he could manage it, the door opened from the other side. The usher who emerged quickly attempted to mask his surprise. “I apologize, my lord, but this is for employees of the theatre only.”
But once Val had pressed a few coins into the young man’s hand, the usher was willing to let him through with a cry of thanks.
The other side of the door revealed a far more utilitarian decor. No wallpaper hung on the wood-grain walls, and the sconces that lit the way were of a cheaper quality than those in the public areas. Clearly the owners had no concerns for the aesthetic tastes of their workers.
He followed the short hallway to a stairway, which should lead, according to his mental picture of the theatre’s layout, to the area behind the stage.
Then he heard a man shouting.
“Where is Miss Warrington? I demand to see her at once! She made no mention of being absent tonight.”
A female voice that sounded oddly familiar followed his words. How had Caro managed to get down here so quickly?
His surprise turned to alarm, however, when he heard her scream, followed by a loud crash.
Every nerve on high alert, he took the steps two at a time and rushed forward into chaos.
* * *
Grateful for the opportunity to remove herself from Val’s distracting presence, Caro followed Kate into the corridor as soon as the performance broke for the interval.
His admission that he’d invited her family tonight out of a desire to apologize for his actions four years ago had nearly taken her breath away. She’d assumed, wrongly it seemed, that he’d coerced her into his family’s private box in order to manipulate or humiliate her. It had never occurred to her that he might have done so for altruistic reasons.
Caro knew she was prone to making rash judgments, but she’d thought she knew Val well enough to safely guess his motives. That she’d been so utterly mistaken came as a blow to her own faith in her powers of discernment.
“The cast seems to be managing well with the casting change,” Kate said as they worked their way into the throng crowding the corridor outside the Thornfield’s box. “I had supposed there would be at least a bit of disarray with Julia in the role, but I could detect none.”
“Having met Julia, I’m unsurprised she’s making the most of this opportunity to shine.” Caro had to raise her voice in order to be heard over the din.
Caro saw Eversham reply, but by this point Caro could barely hear herself breathe. She tried to stay close to her friends, but she was soon forced to watch helplessly as more and more theatregoers pushed into the gap between them. And because of her small stature, she was unable to view them from above.
Deciding that it might be best to stay close to the edges until the crush thinned out, she made her way to the lavishly papered wall and tried unsuccessfully to see over the crowd by going up on her toes. But she’d never had any great fondness for waiting. Perhaps she should use this time to do some investigating on her own.
Soon, she was in the marble-tiled reception at the theatre’s entrance. Spotting an usher, she asked him to direct her to the greenroom. He frowned. “There won’t be anyone there now, miss. You don’t want to go.”
Belying the usher’s words, however, was a man of middle years carrying an elaborate bouquet. He crossed from the main entrance to slip through a carved door just opposite from where she and the young man now stood.
Could one of Effie’s admirers have skipped the performance, thereby missing the announcement that she’d been replaced by her understudy? Or could the admirer responsible for her disappearance be coming to the greenroom—without bothering with the play—in an effort to make himself appear innocent of the crime? She had to find out.
Moving past the usher, she started for the door, only to have him step forward and bar her entry. “It’s not a proper place for you, miss.”
Biting back a curse, Caro decided she needed to act quickly. Adopting what she liked to think of as her “helpless waif” expression, she grasped the man by the arm. “Oh, sir, please. You see, my poor brother was headed there. He’s drunk again and I simply must get him home before he importunes that poor actress once more. She’s already told him a dozen times or more that she’s not interested, but…” She made a vague hand gesture that could mean anything from “c’est la vie” to “my poor nerves.”
The young man, who was possessed of a guileless face—and, Caro hoped, a gallant streak—pulled back to look at her with suspicion.
She wasn’t sure if it was her plaintive tone or the appeal of her person, but he finally capitulated. His boyish countenance reddened a little as he sighed and gestured toward the door the bouquet-carrying gentleman had disappeared behind. “But you mustn’t tell anyone I let you in. We’ve been instructed not to let ladies in the greenroom ever since Lady Broadwhistle accosted her husband with a pistol while he was visiting his—”
He broke off, clearly trying to find a polite way to say “mistress.”
Taking pity on him, Caro put a finger to her lips. “I’ll tell no one, Mr.…?”
“Alf, miss. It’s Alfred, really, but me friends call me Alf and it’s been that way ever since me mum and—”
Before he could further open the floodgates to his, no doubt amusing, tale of how he came to be called Alf, Caro interjected. “I’m so sorry but I must hurry. My brother. You understand?”
Having no wish for him to follow her, Caro touched him lightly on the arm. “Thank you so much, sir—” She corrected herself. “Alf. I’d best go inside on my own. I don’t wish to embarrass him. And you’d better get back to work. I don’t want you to lose your position.”
At the mention of his job, Alf paled a little.
“You be careful, miss,” he said before turning to leave.
Slipping through the coveted carved door, she noted the hallway beyond was dimly lit. And just to the right she saw what must be the greenroom.
When she pushed through the entryway, however, she found it was far from empty. Quite the opposite.
“There she is!” shouted one of the half-dozen or so men gathered in the chamber. Another aggrieved voice quickly followed—no doubt when they realized she was not any of the actresses they’d come here to pay homage to. “Who the devil are you?”
“My apologies, gentlemen.” Caro kept near the exit on the chance that she’d need to make a hasty escape. “I was hoping to ask you some questions about Miss Warrington.”
“Where is she?” demanded the well-dressed gentleman she’d seen go in moments before, flowers in hand. His watery blue eyes were narrowed with ire and his fair complexion was flushed with emotion. “I came here to see her opening night, only to find she’s been replaced for no good reason with that Julia Todd. Is this Thorn’s doing?”
Since the man had arrived after the interval, Caro very much doubted that seeing the play had been foremost in his mind.
A chorus of agreement went up among the others.
“She’s the only one worth seeing, if you ask me,” said a young man who still bore the puppyish face of youth. “We want Effie back!”