Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(56)

Families and couples in lavish evening attire traipsed all around the street. Women in pastel gowns shimmered under streetlamps, and their dragging skirts whispered like a symphony of moth wings. The men, all dressed in their long black coats and black top hats—identical copies of Clarence—guided their ladies to the granite steps and tall white columns before the Arch Street Theatre’s entrance.

Carriage after carriage rattled up and deposited the beautiful and the wealthy of Philadelphia. And, like me, they all examined everyone else. Yet, if they sought familiar faces or merely wished to critique their neighbors, I couldn’t say. Either way, I was suddenly very grateful for my new gown. For the first time since leaving girlhood and frocks behind, I felt I was a match for my society.

“Eleanor!” A girl’s voice shouted.

I twirled around to see Mercy nearby, her sister, Patience, still climbing down from a carriage. I waved.

Mercy daintily lifted her skirts to approach me, but then she paused. Her smile wavered and fell.

Fingers grasped my arm, and I flinched. But it was only Clarence. I gave him a tight grin—the Virtue Sisters would be delighted to know he was here!—and I glanced back to the street.

Patience had joined Mercy, and they glared at me. The hatred and envy was so thick, I staggered back.

Clarence steadied me. “Are you all right, Miss Fitt?”

“No—yes... yes. I’m fine. Let’s go in.” My voice broke over a lump in my throat.

Here I was unwillingly on the arm of Clarence Wilcox, but all the Virtue Sisters would see was Eleanor Fitt of the fallen Philadelphia Fitts on the arm of the most eligible bachelor in the city.

Maybe these people would talk with me and play croquet, but they still lived by the judgmental rules of class and wealth. And for a very brief moment, I wished I could go back in time to when Mercy had smiled.

But then I set my jaw and pulled back my shoulders. If their friendships were based on such meaningless things as name, then did I truly want them in my life?

Clarence and I reached the top of the steps. The grooved columns towered up beside us, and cheerful light poured from the open theater doors.

I peered back at the street. The Virtue Sisters were nowhere in sight, but my gaze hit on a small figure lounging against a gas streetlamp. My breath hitched. It was Jie! Jie!

What was she doing here? She nodded at me, and I nodded back. All my concerns over society vanished, for here was someone I knew I could call friend..

A fresh energy pumped through me. This evening wasn’t ruined yet. There was still time to do what needed doing. Pinkertons, Clarence, Patience—none of them mattered. I still had a chance. A choice.

Porters bowed as we passed through the theater doors. Glistening crystal chandeliers greeted us, and for the first time I was able to fully inspect Clarence’s newest bodyguards. They each wore ill-fitting black suits and well-fitting black scowls. They reminded me of those Russian dolls that all fit inside one another, for the three men could have been triplets if it weren’t for their differences in size. Small, medium, large.

They looked dangerous and dependable, but I knew I could handle them.

Clarence guided me through the theater’s entrance hall. Our feet clicked on ornate marble floors and up the main staircase. On the second floor, we walked silently down long, bloodred carpets until we reached a private balcony. Once inside, Clarence plopped into a seat and lounged back. Two men settled into seats, and one stationed himself at the balcony’s entrance. A single vacant seat was at Clarence’s right, but I avoided it. I was too excited to stay still.

My mind buzzed with curiosity over Jie’s presence outside.

I hustled to the balcony’s edge and gazed at the theater’s ceiling, a painted dome that reflected the gas lights and bathed everyone in yellow warmth.

I felt good—not happy per se, but in control. No one and nothing could stand in my way. This was my life.

When the first strains of music began, I moved to my seat. I glowered at the small Pinkerton who sat at my right. He offered me a flimsy, paper program, and I snatched it from his fingers. I flipped through the pages, only pretending to read them.

I needed a plan.

“Have you the time?” I asked Clarence.

He eased out a pocket watch. “Five after nine.”

I peered in the program. The first intermission was in an hour. Would Jie still be standing there at ten? I had no way of knowing since I didn’t know precisely why she was here in the first place. I tugged at my earring and forced my mind off the subject. I could do nothing at the moment.

The lights dimmed, and the opera began. Clarence quickly slumped over into a heavy sleep. None of his guards drifted into slumber, of course.

The first act passed at an excruciatingly slow speed. I constantly adjusted my train or massaged my scalp, and the performance did nothing to keep my mind from wandering.

I used to love the opera. Much like I swooned over Shakespeare’s exotic lands, I longed to see the magical worlds of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte or Wagner’s Die Walküre. To see Germany and Austria—the lands that had inspired such beautiful music and tales.

But not tonight. Perhaps never again, in fact. How could I dream when I knew I could act instead? And with all the strange and deadly things in the world, what was there even worth dreaming about?

Elijah. No matter what Mama said, I knew that Elijah loved me. But sitting here watching a silly opera was not helping him. This was no way to repay his love. I had to leave. I had to talk to Daniel and get answers. I had to get away from here and put my mind and body to use.