Rebel Magisters (Rebel Mechanics #2)(16)

“I thought we were here for a meeting.”

“Patience. Appearances must be upheld.”

We sat in chairs whose red velvet cushions had seen better days, possibly in the last century. I noticed that the lighting was no longer electric. The globes were there, but the dynamo in the basement had been moved out of the city with the other machines. Instead, there were gas sconces along the walls and a chandelier overhead.

I was surprised by how full the theater was. I recognized many of the patrons from Mechanics-related gatherings, and a few of the girls from my network of contacts were there. Most of the theatergoers seemed to be from the neighborhood—no upper-crust patrons of the arts, except for the one woman richly dressed all in black and heavily veiled. I didn’t know her identity, but she appeared at many of the Mechanics’ events and funded some of their inventions. She looked at us, and I had the feeling that our eyes met for a moment. She adjusted her veil, as though making sure it thoroughly covered her face.

“Do they always do this sort of thing?” Henry whispered to me.

“They do like to put on a show. It just usually isn’t on a stage.”

He grinned and settled back in his seat. “It’s been ages since I had an evening at the theater.”

Soon, the lights dimmed, somewhat unevenly. There was a halfhearted spatter of applause when Colin—who else?—appeared on the stage in front of the curtain. I smiled at the thought that Flora would be extremely jealous of me. Or perhaps might find her infatuation fading, depending on what happened.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, projecting his voice to the back row. “We are pleased to present the finest collection of theatrical entertainment you’re likely to find tonight on this block.” That got a chuckle from the audience. “And without further ado, a scene from Shakespeare himself.”

He jumped off the stage to take a seat in the front row as the curtain opened. It got stuck halfway, and someone had to run out and give it a sharp yank before it revealed the entire stage.

I recognized the setup for what had to be the famous balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. The balcony was made of scaffolding on which a garland of flowers had been draped. Juliet wore a wig of long braids that trailed behind her. The scene went the way I’d memorized it, until at one point Romeo abruptly said, “Juliet, Juliet, let down your hair.” She dropped the braids over the side of the balcony, and he proceeded to climb up to join her, to much amusement from the audience. The scene progressed in an odd mix of Romeo and Juliet and the fairy tale “Rapunzel” that I had to admit was quite clever, though rather broadly acted.

The rest of the show was more of the same, with Colin entertaining the crowd during scene changes. He put his powerful tenor voice to use, singing plaintive songs about the land across the sea, and those interludes were the only times when the show could be taken at all seriously.

It was during one of his songs that a murmur came through the crowd, and I turned to see several uniformed soldiers entering the theater. I couldn’t tell if this was a raid or if they were merely looking for entertainment on their night off.

“What’s happening?” I whispered to Lizzie.

“Don’t worry,” she replied, also in a whisper. “This is what we want. They come most every night, trying to catch us doing something clandestine. Instead, all they get are Colin’s bad jokes.”

“Every night? But I thought he was out of town.”

“Shh. We’ll talk later.”

I barely noticed the rest of the show as I worried about what would happen. It would be very bad if the magister men were recognized. Even if they weren’t connected to revolutionary activities, they were associating with nonmagister women in a situation that looked romantic. I knew Henry didn’t socialize much and was never mentioned in the society pages, but I wasn’t sure how well-known the others were. I forced myself not to stare at the soldiers. They hadn’t approached us and didn’t seem to be paying much attention to us. Perhaps they wouldn’t if I didn’t draw their notice by acting nervous.

Colin closed out the night by presenting the “To be or not to be” soliloquy from Hamlet, and I was surprised to find that he performed it entirely straight, without the slightest hint of satire. I shouldn’t have been surprised to find that he was an excellent actor, considering how much his work relied upon showmanship. The Rebel Mechanics knew how to stage a scene.

The soldiers applauded along with everyone else as the lights came up and the cast came out to take their bows. Henry, Geoffrey, and Philip cheered along with everyone else. They grinned like they’d really enjoyed the show.

We stayed as the theater slowly emptied. Much to my relief, the soldiers left without lingering. The veiled woman remained until almost everyone else was gone before slipping away after what I felt was one last long glance at us. When only the cast was left resetting the stage, Lizzie brought our group down to the front. Colin jumped off the stage to come greet us. “So, what did you think of our little show?” he asked.

“I enjoyed it a great deal,” I said, quite honestly.

“It was a rather entertaining production,” Henry said.

“Jolly good show,” Philip added.

Colin gave a pointed look at the three magisters, then turned back to me, raising a quizzical eyebrow. I knew it would technically be proper to introduce him to the others, as they were higher in rank, but I thought this was hardly a time to stick to social rules. “Colin, you remember Henry, don’t you? And these are his friends, Philip and Geoffrey. “