House of Rougeaux(71)

It wasn’t too large a place, maybe a hundred patrons seated at tables around a small stage, with a bar on one side, and low-slung wooden beams across the ceiling. Once they were seated at a table, Jack asked the barmaid what was good to drink, and she said the ale they made in-house was very nice.

“Are you Yanks, then?” she asked. Jack said they were and that they were musicians on a European tour. “Well I never,” she said, smiling so that her cheeks bunched up under her eyes in such a way that Eleanor wondered if she could still see. She was still smiling when she returned with a pitcher of ale and a tray of glasses. “Mr. Davies says the first one’s on the House if you’ll play us something a little later,” she said.

“I don’t see why not,” said Jack, flashing one of his famous grins. “Della,” he said, leaning toward her, “why don’t we do Ride In, Kind Savior?”

“Alright,” said Della, “I’d be glad to.”

The barmaid went back to the bar to speak with the man who was evidently Mr. Davies. He waved a hand at them and they all waved back. Eleanor sipped her ale and let her eyes wander to the stage where a young man batted out a tune on a piano and a woman both danced and sang. Soon enough they settled in and ordered another pitcher. Another singer took the stage, accompanied by the same young man at the piano, and after a few more numbers went to take a break. The barmaid came back, accompanied now by Mr. Davies. They shook hands all around.

“Would you do us the honor now?” asked Mr. Davies, addressing Jack. Jack said they would, and Mr. Davies called out, “Ladies and gentlemen, we have some visitors from America!” There were cries of approval from the crowd and Jack and Della made their way to the stage, where Della belted out the song while Jack worked his magic on the piano. Tremendous applause and demands for another got a few more songs out of them, ending with Jack spinning out a generous dose of Ragtime. Several in the crowd rose to shake Jack’s hand and slap him on the back, and give polite little bows to Della. Laughter and smiles abounded. But then Eleanor caught the young piano player glaring from the corner, with a look in his eye that made her terribly uneasy.

“Let’s go,” she whispered to Alma when they were all sitting together again. “I don’t think everyone here is friendly.” But Jack was having a grand time and wasn’t ready to leave.

“Della and I will see you back,” Hig said to Eleanor. “I think we’re all dog-tired.”

“We’ll be along soon,” Alma said to her. “Don’t you worry.”

With that the three of them left, bidding the locals goodbye and stepping out onto the street. Eleanor could still hear Jack’s laugh ringing out from inside.



* * *



It was still dark when she heard knocking. She sat up in bed, confused. She heard knocking again, and her name being called, along with Della’s. She and Della had gotten to bed some hours before in their shared room at the hotel, and now there was someone knocking at the door.

“What is it?” said Della, alarmed but still not quite awake. Eleanor hurried to the door. It was Hig, with Lemuel and Joop. Their breathing was ragged. Joop’s hands shook as he wiped at the sweat on his forehead.

“Eleanor, it’s Jack,” said Lemuel, his voice breaking.

“At the hospital,” Joop said.

“Alma needs you,” said Hig.

The vapors of sleep scattered from Eleanor’s consciousness just as the floor seemed to disappear. Three men had attacked Jack near the music hall, dragged him into an alley just as he and Alma were walking past. They had done him some serious damage before help came, drawn by Alma’s screams. He’d been taken to the hospital at Westminster Abbey, and Hig and Lemuel went with Eleanor in a hansom cab. Joop stayed behind to talk with the rest of the company and to make sure everyone stayed cool.

Eleanor, Hig, and Lemuel rode the whole way to the hospital without speaking. Eleanor was hardly aware of much other than the sound of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestones, and the sight of breath steaming from their nostrils when the cab passed beneath the street lamps.

Upon their arrival Hig and Lemuel found a supervising doctor while Eleanor hurried to the ward where Jack was. She made her way through the stone corridors as if in a terrible dream, and found the smaller hall where a figure wove unsteadily on her feet.

Alma lifted her stricken face and Eleanor feared the worst. Alma stumbled forward and clutched at her, her awful wail filling the air around them.

“What’s happened, tell me, please,” Eleanor begged.

“He’s alive,” Alma managed at last. She was shaking so badly her teeth chattered. “They beat him bad.” His face was a mess, broken ribs. “And they…” here the keening sobs overtook her again. “They, they stomped his hands. Oh Lord!” The cry tore itself raw from her throat. “They broke up his hands.”



* * *



Jack was discharged in two days’ time and they took him to the hotel, where Alma stayed by his side, administering ice and iodine, and begging him to accept the bone broth that Eleanor asked for in the kitchen. The police said there was nothing they could do, as the attackers had run off so fast. The doctor said Jack would recover the use of his hands, but never again would he have the dexterity that made his art possible.