I was surprised at this newest bit of information. I wondered what it was that had come between Mr. Holloway and Miss Bell. Certainly, nothing about the performance had seemed amiss. Perhaps it was to do with Georgina.
“There are some empty rooms along that corridor if you want to go and look for them,” he said, as though remembering my original objective. He nodded in the direction of a door at the side of the room. I had seen people slipping in and out of it all evening, mostly waiters and the like, and had assumed that it led toward the kitchen facilities. That part of the building had no doubt housed the cooking, preparation, and storage areas when the building had been a restaurant.
“I suppose Mrs. Holloway might be there as well,” I mused aloud, knowing Georgina had been known to oversee every aspect of her events. Her attention to detail was well known and she had never been one to shy away from wading into the minutiae.
He shrugged. “She might be.”
Without another word, he wandered away. If the empty glass in his hand and the thirsty gleam in his eye were any indication, he had gone in search of additional refreshment.
I glanced over at the doorway to which he had pointed. There was no guarantee, of course, that I would find the Holloways or Miss Bell beyond it, but it wouldn’t hurt to look.
Just then I caught a flash of orange and saw that Georgina was in the doorway. I waved to her and she lifted a hand in response.
I made my way across the room toward her, skirting the dance floor. The musicians had apparently indulged in drink as well, for they were playing at an almost frantic pace and the dancers were doing their best to keep up. When I looked back at the door, Georgina was no longer there. Something must have called her away.
Once through the door, I found myself in a hallway that seemed to run the length of the building along the side closest to the theatre. I saw several members of the kitchen staff moving about at one end and assumed it must be the kitchen. I went there, dodging waiters with heavy-laden trays and a woman carrying a gigantic flower arrangement.
“Can I help you, madam?” a harried-looking young woman in an apron asked.
“I’m looking for Mrs. Holloway.”
“She’s not here,” she said, wiping the back of her arm across her flushed face. “She left a moment ago.”
“Thank you.”
I knew Georgina had not gone back out into the ballroom, so I moved down the hallway in the other direction. I had not gone far when I heard the sound of voices coming from one of the rooms. As reluctant as I was to eavesdrop, I couldn’t help but hear what was being said.
“I don’t care. I’ve had enough, Gerard. Or shall I call you ‘Gerry’?” It was Georgina Holloway, her voice brimming with anger.
“Georgina, darling, do try to be reasonable.”
“Don’t say that to me again!” she said. “I am being perfectly reasonable. It’s you who are making a fool of yourself.”
I stilled. It was as I had suspected. Georgina and Mr. Holloway were having a confrontation. I knew that I should leave to give them their privacy, but I couldn’t resist waiting just a moment to see if Miss Bell’s voice joined the conversation.
“I saw the way you were running around after her, as though you were a lost puppy,” Georgina said coolly, her voice full of disdain.
“I did no such thing,” he replied tightly.
“If you love her, then you might as well make a clean break of it,” she said.
“I … Georgina, let’s not do this now.”
“I thought you loved me,” she said, her voice calm yet full of heartbreak. “I thought we would go on being happy forever. And then all it took was this girl to…”
“Georgina, you must stop this now,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “This is neither the time nor the place…”
I felt that it was time that I stopped listening, and slowly eased away from the door and back down the hallway, out into the ballroom. I was saddened by what I had heard. It seemed to me that there was very little hope of a reconciliation now.
* * *
I WENT BACK to the ballroom and found that Milo had been drawn into conversation with a young woman in a plunging evening gown of lavender satin. Not wishing to spoil his fun, I took a canapé from a passing tray and nibbled on it as I made my way around the room. A moment later, a gentleman asked me to dance and I accepted. If I was going to wait for Georgina to emerge, I might as well dance while doing it. Mercifully, the musicians seemed to have worn off some of their earlier energy and were playing at a more subdued pace.
As I danced, I looked across the room and was surprised to see Freddy Bell standing near the doorway. I thought he had left the theatre, but I supposed he had come back for the party.
He was standing alone, his brown suit in striking contrast to the evening dress the other gentlemen wore.
When the song concluded, I thanked my partner and moved toward Flora’s brother.
“Good evening, Mr. Bell,” I said when I reached him.
He had been lost in thought and seemed surprised when I addressed him.
“Good evening. Mrs.… Ames, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Your sister said she doesn’t like you to stay for her performances, but I want to tell you that she was wonderful.”
“She always is,” he said, and, despite their disagreement earlier in the evening, there was a sincerity in his words. “I … I wonder if you’ve seen her anywhere about?”
“No, not recently,” I said. “In fact, I was hoping to find her and tell her how marvelous she was.”
“She’s probably off with Holloway,” he said darkly, echoing Mr. Landon’s sentiments.
“You don’t care for Mr. Holloway then,” I said lightly.
“He’s a rotter,” he said succinctly.
“Oh,” I said vaguely, hoping he would elaborate.
“It’s hard, of course, to make women understand that sort of thing.”
I was about to give him my opinion on this when I spotted Mr. Holloway coming out of the corridor. Georgina was not with him. I had wanted to speak with her, and I somehow felt that she might need a friend even more now that she had had it out with her husband.
“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Bell,” I said.
“Certainly,” he said. “I’m on my way out. I’ve had enough for one evening.”
I left him and made my way to Mr. Holloway’s side.
“Ah, Mrs. Ames,” he said, smiling, though his expression was strained and his eyes unnaturally bright, as though he was suppressing some strong emotion. “Are you enjoying the party?”
“Yes,” I said. “Though perhaps not quite as much as Milo.”
Mr. Holloway’s gaze followed mine to where Milo sat at a table with three women, all of them apparently having a marvelous time.
The strained smile remained fixed on his face. “Well, Ames has always known how to enjoy himself.”
“Yes. I was hoping, however, to congratulate Georgina on tonight’s success. Would you happen to know where she is?”
I asked the question innocently enough, but he became flustered. “I … I crossed paths with her a short while ago,” he said. “I’m not sure where she is now, however.”
He glanced around the room, though it was perfectly apparent that Georgina was not there.
“Maybe she went out to take some air,” I suggested. I had been engrossed in my dance and then in conversation with Mr. Bell, so it was possible that Georgina had slipped past me.
“Yes, maybe she did. Or she might have gone to the theatre,” he added almost absently.
“The theatre?”
I thought that strange, considering she had made it a point to avoid the place all evening. Mr. Holloway seemed to have guessed what I was thinking, for he sighed, a look of resignation crossing his features.
He leaned toward me ever so slightly, lowering his voice, though I didn’t think he would be overheard among the din of conversation and the lively music the orchestra was playing
. “We had a bit of a row, I’m afraid.”
“Oh,” I said, feigning ignorance. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “I’m afraid this whole thing wasn’t a very good idea. I … I’ve made rather a mess of things.”
I didn’t disagree with him.
“Georgina was … well, crying, and wanted to freshen up her makeup, but I don’t think she wanted to use the powder room here, you understand.”
I certainly did. It wouldn’t do at all for the hostess of this elaborate gala to be seen crying in the powder room while rumors flew about her husband and his protégée.
“She has a key to the theatre and knows it will be private there.”
“Perhaps I should go and look for her,” I said.
“Would you?” he asked quickly, relief crossing his features. “I’d like to go myself, but I don’t think she cares to see me at the moment.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’d be happy to go. What’s the best way to access the theatre?”
“It will all be locked up now, but you can take my key.” He reached into his pocket and fished out a brass key. “It fits the lock in the front door.”
“Thank you,” I said, taking it from him.
“Thank you, Mrs. Ames. I…” He hesitated, as though there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how to put into words. At last he sighed. “I appreciate your looking after her. I’ll let Ames know where you’ve gone.”
“Very well.” I somehow doubted, however, that Milo would even notice my absence.
“I…” He hesitated again, and I noticed his eyes moving around the room. “I don’t suppose you know where Miss Bell is?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” I said coolly.
“I suppose she’s gone off to speak with that brother of hers,” he said irritably. “I saw him hanging about after the performance.”
I glanced to where I had been speaking with Freddy Bell, but he had disappeared.
“If you see her outside, will you let her know that I’ve been looking for her?”
I nodded and turned away, quite cross with him that he should have brought her up.
I could tell from the way he had spoken about Georgina that he still cared about her, but he was too enamored with the charms of Miss Bell to realize it. If he had any sense he would find his wife, make amends, and forget all about the young actress.
* * *
I DID NOT see Miss Bell outside. I saw no one, in fact. It seemed that all the partygoers were still enjoying the gala. I walked the few steps to the theatre, and inserted the key into the lock.
The door opened and I stepped into the lobby, closing it behind me. It was strange how different it was in the building now from how it had been only hours before. All was still and quiet. I felt the faintest hint of uneasiness, though I couldn’t say why. Perhaps it was just the contrast to the loud liveliness of the party I had just left. I half wished I had told Milo to accompany me, but if I did find Georgina it would probably be best that we spoke alone. After all, Mr. Holloway had said she had been crying, and I suspected she would still be upset.
It was very dark inside the building, for all the lights had been extinguished, save for one that glowed dimly from inside the auditorium. The ghost light, I had heard it called, a single light that always illuminated the stage.
I remembered that the powder room was to my right as I entered, and I went that way in the darkness.
“Georgina?” I called, pushing open the door. It was dark inside. Then perhaps she had gone to one of the dressing rooms. What better place to fix her makeup, after all?
I crossed the lobby and went into the auditorium. The quickest way to the dressing rooms, I recalled, was to go up onstage and into the corridor beyond. I moved along the main aisle in the dim light, my footsteps muted by the thick carpeting.
I was not ordinarily afraid of the dark, but there was something uncomfortable about the shadowy stillness of the building. It felt empty, and I somehow doubted that Georgina was here. I almost turned around before deciding I might as well see it through.
“Hello? Georgina?” I called, hoping she would hear me and make her presence known. “Are you here?”
I thought that I detected a faint movement, but when I stilled to listen there was silence. Perhaps it was only my imagination.
I reached the stage and walked up the little flight of steps.
Again, I thought I heard a soft movement. I turned around and looked out at the rows of seats. The theater was dark and quiet. It was eerie being in an empty room that was designed to be filled with people. The silence, here in a place of words and music and applause, felt unnatural. I do not consider myself at all superstitious, but I felt as if I were not alone.
I turned to make my way to the dressing room and started.
Flora Bell was standing there in the shadows near one of the curtains that framed the stage.
“Oh! You gave me a start,” I said.
No wonder I had felt as though I was not alone. The actress stood perhaps ten feet from me. At least, I assumed it was she. Her back was to me, but she had on the white satin gown she had worn to the gala. It briefly crossed my mind that it was strange she had not made her presence known or turned at the sound of my voice. But her head was bowed, and I thought perhaps she was crying and didn’t want me to see, for it seemed as though she shifted ever so slightly, almost indiscernibly.
“Excuse me,” I said. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, Miss Bell.”
She didn’t respond, and I stepped closer. I saw then that she was not standing near the curtain, but leaning against it, her face buried in its scarlet folds.
“Miss Bell, are you all right?”
She still didn’t answer, didn’t even lift her head.
I could tell something must be very wrong. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if Georgina Holloway was somewhere about. Perhaps they had had a row over Mr. Holloway.
“Miss Bell, is there anything I can do?” I asked, reaching her and putting my hand on her shoulder.
She swayed and then turned to face me, and I stumbled back with a gasp of horror.
She was dead, her beautiful face an ugly shade of purple, the gold curtain rope wrapped tightly around her neck.
10
I HAD, OVER the past year, encountered more than my fair share of dead bodies. Indeed, I had encountered more than any woman of my situation might reasonably be expected to encounter in a lifetime. And yet I found myself just as shaken this time as I had been the first.
There was no coherent thought in my head at that moment, just the urge to flee. I rushed from the stage, nearly tripping down the stairs, and ran down the aisle, my breath caught in my throat, my stomach clenched in fear and revulsion.
Bursting through the front doors of the theatre and onto the pavement, I stumbled and had to right myself. One hand against the building, I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe deeply of the cool evening air. My thoughts cleared ever so slightly, though my hands were shaking.
I didn’t know how I was going to go back to the gala without making a scene, for one look at my face would likely be enough to alert everyone in the place that something was terribly wrong. The silly idea that I hated to ruin Georgina’s party flittered across my mind before I reminded myself that the gala was now the least of our worries.
Drawing in a steadying breath, I moved toward the building where the gala was still being held. I could hear the music and laughter from here and they were jarring sounds against the backdrop of what had just happened. I had nearly reached the door when I caught sight of Milo walking toward me and gave a little sigh of relief.
“What’s the matter?” Milo asked as soon as he saw me.
“It’s … it’s Flora Bell,” I said. “She’s dead. On the stage. She…” I broke off, unable to put into words at the moment what I had seen.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” he said.
“But…”
“Stay here.”
He moved past me and disappeared into the theatre while I waited outside, drawing in great lungfuls of the cool evening air. I liked to think of myself as a capable woman in a crisis, but something about this situation had been so shocking that I could not seem to make myself focus. I tried to draw some sort of conclusion about what had happened, but I was still shaking and the only words that would come to my head repeated themselves over and over again: Poor Flora Bell. Poor Flora Bell.
A few minutes later Milo came out, his expression grim.
“I found a telephone inside and rang the police,” he said.
“Do you think we should go and find Mr. Holloway?” I asked, my stomach knotting tighter at the thought. What would he do when he found out Flora Bell was dead?
“We’ll let the police do that.”
“Oh, Milo, this is terrible.”
He pulled me to him and embraced me, one hand rubbing my back soothingly. “I know, darling.”
We stood like that for just a moment, my head pressed against his chest. It was reassuring to know that, whatever this evening had in store, I would not have to go through it alone. I was immeasurably glad that I could take refuge in his arms.
A few people took their leave from the party, and I supposed they thought us just another amorous couple seeking a moment of privacy in the darkness outside a crowded event.
I could only imagine the tumult this news was going to cause at the gala. But perhaps the police would be discreet. It would be better that way, I thought. To keep things quiet for as long as possible.
Milo and I stood for what seemed a long time out on the now-quiet street. I could still hear the music drifting from the building next door, and I was glad that no one had yet raised the alarm. It would be better, too, I thought, for the suspects to remain where they were.
“I’d say it was a pleasure to see you again,” said a familiar voice. “But under the circumstances I don’t think it would be appropriate.”
I looked up to see Detective Inspector Jones walking toward me as if from out of the shadows.
He stopped before us.
“Mr. and Mrs. Ames. I shouldn’t be surprised, and yet I find myself somewhat startled to see you here,” he said.
An Act of Villainy Page 8
