City of Ash

by Megan Chance

  “Where did you say the tent was?”

  He looked so surprised that I laughed.

  “Eleventh and Lane,” he said quickly.

  “I’ll be there later,” I promised him. Then I gave him a smile and set off alone, heading south a block or so as if I were going toward the pile of ashes that was the Regal, but when I knew they could no longer see me, I turned back to the Boston block, and Mrs. Langley.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Geneva

  I was starving, and bored, and apprehensive, with nothing to do but worry and watch the city come alive. Smoke rose from the ashes like a fog, curling and wisping, then settling like a miasma over the landscape. The Boston block loomed over everything like a great ogre; all the rest was spires and outcroppings like eroded rock in the middle of the desert, the formations I’d seen from a distance through the windows of a train, there and gone and yet leaving a lasting impression. Lonely. Desolate. And weirdly beautiful.

  There were men about now, spraying down the ashes of their buildings, militiamen poking about, watching, shooing away dogs who had yet to find their masters. I eased to the back wall again, farther out of sight, and wished Mrs. Wilkes would return. I was anxious to get on with things, to leave this place. I knew just how to get into the house, the paned doors that opened from the parlor onto the side yard. I would have to find a way to creep down the hall to Nathan’s study unseen, but there was only Bonnie and the scullery maid and the cook, and I did not think it would be so difficult to evade them. With any luck, I could be in a wagon on the way to the nearest steamer dock tonight, and then on to San Francisco. And from there … I’d thought perhaps the Continent. Somewhere far enough that Papa’s reach, and Nathan’s, did not quite extend, somewhere to contemplate my next step. I had no hope of reconciling with any of the friends I’d known there—who were my father’s as well, of course. The rumors of Andromeda and Marat would have reached them; they would be no more accepting of my behavior than had been my friends in Chicago. But some of the artists I’d known—perhaps one or two—were in Europe now, and they would welcome and harbor me until I could be assured of my father’s support. That was my only hope. To win Papa—because Nathan and I were done, and there was nothing for it. I would not put myself in my husband’s hands again.

  Still, the task I’d set before myself was daunting, and I could not predict its outcome with any certainty. Papa would be difficult. The letters he’d written me had bristled with hurt and disappointment. I knew what I had not realized in Chicago, that my behavior since my marriage had tried him past all patience.

  No, I wasn’t hopeful. I was desperate, and becoming more so with each passing moment.

  The others who’d been huddled behind the building near me rose and left, one of them—a whore, I assumed—informing me that the relief tents were open. A kindness, but I only nodded curtly and a bit rudely, and they left without troubling me.

  When Mrs. Wilkes finally showed again, she looked tired and cross, her hair hanging loose as mine. Still, I was relieved to see her. She held a small parcel in her hand.

  She handed it to me without a greeting. “Here’s your breakfast.”

  I tore it open. Thick slices of bread, slightly compressed from being carried, and at the sight of them I was suddenly so hungry I could not contain myself. I only just refrained from shoving the entire package into my mouth.

  “We haven’t got much time,” she said. “Nathan’s at the Regal now, searching for your body. I guess he’ll probably be there for a while.”

  I nearly choked on the last bite of bread. “My body?”

  “He’s afraid you’re dead. Everyone thinks you must be dead.”

  I crumpled the butcher paper and threw it onto the ground. “Did you speak to him?”

  She shook her head. “Jack told me. But I don’t know how long they’ll dig or how many men he has—”

  “Let’s go then,” I said. “It may be our only opportunity.”

  I began to walk, and she fell into step beside me as we left the Boston block and moved away from the burned district, that strange journey into a world unchanged, where the only evidence of fire was an acrid fog that curled and hovered as it rose.

  “What else did you discover?” I asked her.

  “Lucius got his tent. We’re performing Much Ado About Nothing as soon as he can raise it. No one’s allowed to sell liquor. There’re only three restaurants left in town and no groceries. The army’s giving away tents to whoever needs one. And Mr. DeWitt showed up.”

  How casually she said it. As if he didn’t matter in the least. I glanced at her. “Unhurt?”

  “Unhurt. Unscathed. Lucius has set him to revising Much Ado.”

  I was more relieved than I wanted her to know. “That’s … thank God. Perhaps he’ll be willing to help after all.”

  She gave me a quick look. “Why involve him? I said I’d get you out of town.”

  I could not explain, not to her, though I wanted to. I wanted to say: I want to see him one last time before I leave. I want to reassure him that what I feel for him is no pretense, and to see that he feels the same for me. I want to tell him I will help him when I can, that I won’t forget my promises to him.

  But I felt too how explaining this to her would cheapen my relationship with him, and so I only said, “I just feel I should explain things to him before I go.”

  “You haven’t explained them to me,” she complained. “Do you want to get out of town quickly or not?”

  “Quickly, yes.”

  “Then we haven’t time for Sebastian. I’ll be happy to deliver a message for you when we’re done.”

  I took a deep breath. “I suppose that will have to serve.”

  “I hope you’ve thought of a plan for getting in.”

  “The side doors to the parlor,” I said, my breath coming shorter as we climbed the hill. “They open onto the yard. We can go in through there. I’ll have to get down the hall to Nathan’s study, but it should be simple enough.”

  “You know where the key to the safe is?”

  I nodded. “It should only take a few moments. And then we can hire a wagon and I’ll be off.” Just saying the words was a relief.

  “After you give me my portion.”

  “Yes, of course. I promised it, didn’t I?”

  “Just making sure you didn’t change your mind.”

  “I’m not in the habit of going back on my word.”

  After that, we toiled on in silence. Up one block and then another. Trees gave some shade, though their leaves too were dusty. The closer to my house we got, the more I began to cling to the shade, to let my hair fall forward to hide my face. I daren’t look at any windows, or at the carriages that went by, and luckily most of the men in town were preoccupied with the fire—and the women too, I assumed. The Ladies Relief Society must be in full force, and no doubt plenty of women had gone to help. No one paid any attention to us. I was glad she was with me; I was uncertain I could have gone this far without being recognized if I’d been alone. But anyone looking for me would not be looking for two women—Geneva Langley had few friends, after all, and none of them female.

  I stopped when we were two houses away, pointing out my home to Mrs. Wilkes, and then I took her down the street instead of into the alley behind, where the stables were and the stableboy and the driver, and the kitchen where the maids did most of their work. Past the rhododendrons flanking the porch that grew so tall they hid the side yard from view. I dodged behind one, and she followed, and then I crept to the edge of the parlor doors, angling myself to see inside without being seen. The parlor was empty, the doors to the hall shut.

  “There’s no one there,” I told her, quickly twisting the handle of the door, easing it open. It creaked slightly, and I froze. Mrs. Wilkes went still behind me. Nothing. We slipped inside.

  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, complet
ely 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 sto
p 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.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  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—