Now Playing on Outworld 5730

by R. T. W. Lipkin

  “Ephraim,” he was sure she said, but her voice was driven under by a memory he couldn’t suppress. And that was Charlotte anyway, not Violet, he was sure.

  Was he confusing the two women now? Best to get off Outworld 5730 while he was still partly in his right mind. While he was still certain he could never love anyone again. Before the fairies went back to Los Angeles, leaving him.

  “I’m already lost,” he said to himself.

  Charlotte was long gone. Violet would be soon too.

  The way out of the maze was easy for someone like Violet, sure of herself, confident of her purpose.

  Ephraim let the sun burn a hole in his empty chest. The process was surprisingly swift.

  He loved the way Violet’s skirts swished around her lovely form, the way she turned her head to the side when she was working out the meaning of something he’d said, the glint in her iridescent eyes when she was about to say something she shouldn’t’ve.

  Damn Charlotte Churchill for emptying his chest of its essence. For causing him to distrust Wyatt, to seek revenge.

  Had Violet called him by his name? Would she want to live in a remote Northumberland town with a farmer? When he was no longer an ersatz marquess, when he was wearing the faded work pants and open-neck shirt he always wore, would her affections drop away?

  If you play a game for long enough, it becomes real. That’s probably why the majestics lasted not just a week or two but went on for months. So that the atmosphere would get infused with that reality that only everyday life can produce.

  He’d been too cruel to her. His beloved Violet. If he could just explain to her, yet he’d never been able to.

  She’d be happy in Los Angeles. That’s where she belonged. On the set of Mirage, playing a part worthy of her, not the part of a lady’s maid here on Outworld 5730.

  How did other people bear up under the disappointments of existence? There was always suicide, Ephraim thought, although if you were unlucky enough to fail at it, the punishment was known to create a far worse despair than the one that had originally compelled you to that end.

  If he’d never loved Charlotte. Or let Wyatt meet her. But then he wouldn’t have come to the majestic. He wouldn’t’ve met Violet.

  The sunlight completed its duties, yet Ephraim could still breathe, so he stood up and headed for the leftmost hedge, hoping that Violet would be waiting for him around the corner. But the maze was unoccupied except for Ephraim, and he easily walked out to the exit.

  The bay gelding was waiting for him, and he climbed into the saddle and rode out toward Brixton, avoiding the woods, avoiding the tree house, avoiding his own hidden desires.

  Chapter 110

  Mr. Calvert stood outside Jewel Allman’s door. He was certain he’d heard sounds from in there, but he’d knocked twice already and she hadn’t answered.

  Maybe she was engaged in something so private she couldn’t be disturbed. He respected that and knew that no one downstairs would dare come into his own office without his permission.

  But when he heard a drawer slam loudly and Jewel Allman’s frustrated cry, he knocked again, then opened the door.

  Jewel was standing behind her vast desk, tears in her eyes, and she was rubbing one of her hands, holding it up against her chest with the other.

  “Mrs. Allman,” Eli said.

  “Mr. Calvert,” Jewel said. “I don’t believe I invited you in.”

  “Something’s clearly wrong, Mrs. Allman,” he said. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t injured, in need of assistance.”

  “I’m certainly in need of assistance, but no one can give it to me,” Jewel said as she sat down, banged her injured hand hard onto the desktop, and cried out in pain.

  “Let me see that,” Calvert said.

  “It’s all right,” Jewel said as she drew her hand into her chest, protecting it from his reach.

  “Let me assist you, then, Mrs. Allman. Isn’t that what the butler is for?” Eli Calvert had spent the last two days without once being Monte Rice. It both pleased and frightened him.

  “You can’t imagine what’s transpired now, Mr. Calvert. It’s going to ruin everything. I’m not sure we can continue. And everything was going along so well. Perfectly, really, especially since the duke returned.” There were tears in her eyes, but she wasn’t exactly crying. Eli knew the feeling.

  “It is perfect, Mrs. Allman. You have nothing to concern yourself with. Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it.”

  “It can’t be fixed. It’s hopeless,” Jewel said, and banged her hurt hand into the desk again, which caused her to finally cry.

  “Tell me,” he said, and stopped himself from asking if anything had happened with Lady Patience. But it can’t have, he assured himself. Nothing could possibly happen to her.

  “It’s Idrest,” Jewel finally said. “He’s ordered the duchess to come home. Violet’s leaving, the duchess will have to leave, the duke will probably leave as well, and Johnny told me that he overheard Saybrook saying he was leaving tomorrow too.”

  “Johnny’s information isn’t always accurate, Mrs. Allman,” Eli said, but he had a bad feeling that in this case, Johnny was right. Saybrook—Wyatt Conroy—seemed the most unlikely player at the majestic, so it was no surprise he wanted to leave.

  “We’re being decimated,” she said. “It’s hopeless.”

  “Nothing is ever hopeless,” Calvert said, and the immediate mental image of his burnt house with the remains of his wife and daughter called him a liar. So what if he lied? Being a butler in Regency England when he was really a grieving widower on Outworld 5730 was a lie as well. But it served him, and that was the butler’s job: to serve.

  “If only that were true,” Jewel said. She’d stopped crying. “I expect we can send everyone who’s left over to Brixton and they can continue there. I’ll of course pay everyone here and arrange transport home. Please don’t be concerned about that, Mr. Calvert.”

  “I’m not concerned in the least, Mrs. Allman. But I do have an idea.”

  “The duchess—Marguerite Idrest—is pregnant, you know. If you hadn’t noticed,” Jewel said, then blew her nose into a lace handkerchief.

  “I did notice, Mrs. Allman,” Eli said. “She must be very happy.” Laine had been overjoyed when she’d become pregnant. He saw her face, fresh, alive. But he must remember that he was no longer Monte Rice.

  “It’s not that easy, Mr. Calvert,” Mrs. Allman said. “And her husband is sure to notice as well.”

  “Her real husband, you mean.”

  “I do mean.”

  “But—a new life. It’s truly . . . indescribable.”

  “We’re just simply ruined, Mr. Calvert. There’s no other way to look at the situation. And only a few hours ago I was convinced this was the best majestic I’d ever produced. I was so looking forward to the ball tonight. Now I see that it’s all over. Everything.”

  “I do have an idea, if you’d like to hear it.”

  “Clive Idrest is one of the most powerful people in this part of the galaxy, you know.”

  “Yes.”

  “She doesn’t want to leave, but she’ll have to.”

  “I understand.”

  “You had an idea, Mr. Calvert?” Jewel straightened the stack of papers in front of her.

  “As I understand it, Mrs. Allman, you only allow players to attend who are here for the entire majestic. But aren’t there many people who’d like to come for a brief period? A fortnight or a month?”

  “I’ve never allowed that. It’s crucial to have a consistent group of players over a long time period. It keeps things in order, and I don’t have to give directions or break anyone in after that. And all the established relationships. It would be so disruptive. And it’s always worked this way. I can’t see it changing.”

  “But perhaps just for this majestic. Look at it outside, Mrs. Allman. The rain’s finally stopped. It’s glorious out there. Do you know how many people would be thrilled to come to Regency En
gland, enjoy the lovely springtime, stay at Hollyhock Manor, and play the part of a noble? Even if only for the time remaining for this current production.”

  “Maybe,” she said.

  “You should have a window in your office, Mrs. Allman,” Calvert said as he got up to leave.

  Chapter 111

  “Lettie,” Lady Patience said. She was readjusting her corset, and it almost made Violet laugh. All this time here, and LP still hadn’t gotten comfortable in the clothing. Although LP had lost some weight, Violet noticed, and said so.

  “I’ve lost my appetite,” Lady Patience said. “Perhaps that’s the one thing I can feel I accomplished here. Even if there’s no one for me.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Violet said, remembering to stick to her lines and remembering to stay silent about Mr. Calvert.

  “Did you and Trevelton straighten matters out?” Lady Patience said.

  She watched carefully as Violet worked on the elaborate braids of her hair. Earlier, she’d shooed Harriette from the room. It wasn’t as though she’d learn anything at this late hour anyway, and Lady Patience wanted to be alone with Violet, who she felt completely at ease with. Just as she was about to leave.

  “Lettie? Did you?”

  “Yes, my lady,” Violet said.

  “Come on, Lettie. You can do better than that.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Violet said, and started undoing the braid she’d just finished.

  “No!” Lady Patience nearly shouted. “That was perfect! Put it back! I meant your answer. Did you and Lord Pompous What a Fine Gentleman I Am come to some resolution?”

  “My lady,” Violet said with a half laugh as she finished redoing the braid. “Whyever would you refer to Lord Trevelton that way?”

  “Oh, come on, Lettie. He’s so pompous. Like an actual marquess might be, I imagine. Although I’ve never laid eyes on one. Do they even have them anymore?”

  “They do here, my lady,” Violet said.

  “What are you wearing to the ball tonight?” Lady Patience said.

  “Nothing, my lady,” Violet said.

  “Well, I certainly can’t compete with that,” Lady Patience said with a smile.

  “I mean, my lady, I’m not going.”

  “How can you possibly miss the ball?” Lady Patience readjusted her corset again.

  “The servants aren’t invited, my lady. We have to work, you know. My lady.” Violet started in on another braid. She wanted to give Lady Patience the most elaborate hairdo at the ball tonight.

  She’d hardly been able to tolerate LP at first, but now she thought how she’d miss her. She’d become almost as much a friend as Rosie had. Violet shook her head to toss away the thoughts.

  “Too bad,” Lady Patience said, “because you’re going.”

  “No, my lady,” Violet said.

  “Aren’t you my lady’s maid?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “And aren’t you supposed to do as I ask?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Then you are coming to the ball. It’s simply too good to miss. And it’s your last night!”

  “Yes, my lady,” Violet said. She would get to dance, which she adored doing. She sighed in appreciation.

  “I think perhaps something that used to fit the duchess . . . before, you know . . . that it would fit you.”

  “Perhaps, my lady, but—”

  “Now that the duke’s returned, everything’s fine again, and I’m sure she won’t mind lending you a gown.”

  “I don’t know, my lady.”

  “We’ll go see her right now,” Lady Patience said as she got up.

  “But, my lady, I’m not finished with your hair.”

  “This is more important. You can finish my hair after we see to your dress.”

  Lady Patience shrugged into a blue silk kimono, took Violet’s hand, and together they sailed down the hallway to the duchess’s rooms. Violet felt like she was a joyful schoolgirl again, on her way to a friend’s house, and when they got to the duchess’s door and LP squeezed her hand and gave her an encouraging nod, Violet thought she might cry.

  “Lady Patience,” the duchess said as she opened the door. “Violet! Thank goodness you’re here. Are you telepathic?”

  “Sometimes, Your Grace,” Lady Patience said, surprising both women with her reply.

  The duchess gestured for Lady Patience and Violet to come in, then closed the door behind them.

  “The most unusual thing has happened,” the duchess said. “Allene has disappeared. No one can find her. Not even Johnny. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  Chapter 112

  “For God’s sake, Etterly, you’re going to strangle me,” Trevelton said to his valet, who was retying his cravat. It could never look right enough for Etterly’s perfectionist eye.

  “Yes, my lord,” Etterly said.

  “I’ve decided to go back tomorrow,” Trevelton said. He’d already told Etterly this two or possibly eight times.

  “Yes, my lord,” Etterly said as he concentrated on the complex knot.

  “I expect you’ll pack up tonight.” Was that a jeweled pin his valet was holding? What the hell was he going to do with that?

  “Yes, my lord,” Etterly said. He stood back from Trevelton and held the pin up, repositioning it in the air, then sighing and coming toward Trevelton again.

  “You don’t expect me to wear that thing, do you?” Trevelton said. The pin seemed to have a number of green gems of varying colors and shades and on it and possibly a few diamonds as well.

  “Yes, my lord,” Etterly said. “It’s quite the thing.”

  “I suppose you’re going to insist on the mask as well,” Trevelton said in his best long-suffering marquess tone.

  At this point in the majestic, he almost felt like a long-suffering marquess. Would he remember how to be Ephraim Croft in a few days’ time? He hoped he would.

  “Yes, my lord,” Etterly said. “Please be still. I still have to attend to Lord Saybrook.”

  “Saybrook?”

  “Yes, my lord. He asked for my help. He has no valet, you know.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I expect there’s a lady he wants to impress, as you do, my lord,” Etterly said as he fussed with the pin, still not affixing it, but moving it about, testing different locations, trying to find the exact right spot for it.

  “Etterly,” Trevelton said.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “There’s no lady to impress.”

  “Lady Katherine certainly thinks otherwise, my lord, and she’d be a fine choice, judging by everything I’ve seen.”

  “What exactly have you seen?” Trevelton was amused by his suddenly voluble manservant.

  “She’s very elegant, my lord, and seems to favor you.”

  “She’d be better off favoring someone else.”

  “I know you’re still, ah, attached, shall I say? to Lady Patience’s lady’s maid, my lord, but Lady Katherine is a far more appropriate mate for you.”

  “Damn you, Etterly, stop fussing about with that blasted pin. I’m not going to wear it anyway.”

  “Next thing you’ll tell me you’re not wearing a mask.”

  “You mean over the one I wear every day?”

  “If you say so, my lord.”

  “I do say so, Etterly. Give the pin to Saybrook. I’m sure he’d be happy to walk around like a peacock for one night.”

  “There, my lord. Now it’s just as it should be.”

  Etterly had finally decided on the precise spot for the pin and had fastened it on. He stepped aside and Ephraim stared at himself in the looking glass. Stared at Lord Trevelton—this man who seemed hardly like Ephraim Croft. And the pin was a nice touch.

  Etterly brushed off the tails of Trevelton’s coat, did something with the cravat, then stood back to admire his work.

  “Just right, my lord. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I promised Lord Saybrook I’d be there.”

  “Go right ahead
, Etterly. Remember to finish the packing. I believe the transport departs first thing.”

  “You shouldn’t be going back just to be with her, my lord,” Etterly said as he stood in the doorway.

  “There’s no her,” Trevelton said.

  “Violet Aldrich, my lord,” Etterly said. “She’s all wrong for you.”

  Chapter 113

  “Oh, Vi, you look beautiful!” Rosie made Violet turn around for the fifth or sixth time since she’d come up to her room.

  “I feel like that girl in the fairy tale. You know the one.”

  “Cinderella.”

  “That one. Although you could hardly say I was covered with cinders up until now. And, you know, there’s no prince. But this gown—I can’t believe the duchess is letting me wear it.”

  “She never even wore it the whole time she’s been here. And it looks just right on you. And it’s violet, like your name.”

  “I think that’s why she picked it out. I did her hair for tonight, you know. Rosie, have you seen Allene?”

  “Not in a while, Vi. But she’s often off by herself somewhere. You know how she is. I mean, there’s no knowing about her.”

  “I’ve never said more than good morning to her,” Violet said. “Rosie, I wish you could come too. To the ball.”

  “I have to do the serving, Vi. You know that. And help with the final preparations in the kitchen and make sure the decorations are in place and keep things tidy and a million more things.”

  “I do so love dancing, Rosie. Don’t you?”

  “Samantha always loved to dance.”

  “Waltzing especially. They will have a waltz or two, don’t you think?”

  “Will you dance with that horrible man?”

  “Trevelton?” Violet picked up the elaborate yellow butterfly mask that Lady Patience had given to her. She’d brought several masks with her, so she’d have a choice for the ball. She often couldn’t decide on things, Violet had noticed.

  Violet held the mask up in front of her face and smiled at her friend. She’d fasten the ribbons right before she left her room.

  “Rosie, who’s Samantha?” The sequins on the mask glittered, making Violet’s entire face light up. She spun around again. “I’ve not met her, I don’t think. She must work in one of the outbuildings.”