The Manager's Office, Early April 1775
Elizabeth Roberts was frustrated. She thought everything would be perfectly fine and back to normal once Victor took his job as manager back. That didn't prove to be the case. Victor spent more time at Fort Pitt, writing pamphlets for the Patriot cause, than he did behind his desk at the Inn. While Elizabeth admired his ideals and his vigorous writing, she couldn't help but wish that for just one moment, he'd stay home and spend a little time with her.
It didn't help that they were short-handed again. Mackie Bloom had gotten a job with a traveling acting troop putting on Hamlet. He'd left over a month ago. Scott had eagerly taken over his duties as valet, gardener, and actor, but he'd been vanishing again. Hilary and Jeff spent most of their time bickering over his marriage and paying attention to little else.
Elizabeth was hoping the play she wanted to put on would make her feel better. She dropped the huge stack of papers on Victor's desk. Victor paged through the Bible-sized volume. “It looks as if several forests gave their lives for this.”
She beamed. “This is what I was working on when you, uh, died. It's my blending of all of Shakespeare's Italian-set stories. I call it 'When In Rome.' “
Scott Sherwood burst into the office at that moment, clutching a poster. “I can't pin up this announcement in the lobby!”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I know. I've seen you deal with the pins. With Mackie gone, though, that's now your job.”
“No, Liz, it promotes the competition. It's about the two-day readings of Shakespeare one of the actors at the Weeping Joker Theater, next to the Weeping Joker Inn, did.”
“Did you say 'two-day'?” Victor went to the duo standing behind his desk. “I think I've found a way to please both of you.”
The Green Parlor Room, Later That Morning
“Me?” Hilary beamed. “You want me to appear in an epic romance?”
“We wouldn't dream of having anyone else.” Victor grinned at her. “You are our most praised and admired actress. The populace can't get enough of you.”
Scott handed her a cup of hot cocoa. “And you could give the show that all-important element - class. You make anything look like a thousand bucks, Your Ladyship.”
“Thank you, Scott.” She frowned. “I like cinnamon on top of my cocoa. You do remember that.” She sat back in her chair and turned to Victor. “All of Pittsburgh here to see me, in a genuine tragic romance filled with sword fights and drama.”
Victor nodded. “The rest of the staff has given the idea a resounding 'yes.' The real question, however, is what the most beloved heiress in Pittsburgh society thinks.”
Hilary nodded. “Yes, I love the idea! So many roles to play....so many men in the audience...” She turned back to Scott. “When does the show begin?”
Scott sprinkled the cinnamon on her cocoa. “Tuesday at 8 AM.”
Hilary sipped her cocoa. “Much better. And...when does it end?”
“Thursday at 12 PM.”
Hilary nearly choked on her cocoa. “What? How....”
“I've already contacted the local newspapers,” Victor explained. “They're sending someone to document the event. The news may reach as far as Philadelphia, or even New York or Boston.”
Her eyes became dreamy again. “Now that's something I like to hear. I haven't been in a newspaper since Jeffrey and I left England.”
“Elizabeth, Eugenia, Mr. Foley, and I are about to put up the posters now.” Scott patted the sheath of papers on the table. “We'll hang them in the market place and at the town hall, anywhere we can attract an audience.”
“And I'll hang them at Fort Pitt when I go there later today.” Victor smiled. “This will bring the Inn plenty of positive publicity. Imagine, a group of humble actors and, er, nobles, performing something that has never, ever been attempted in our time. It could put us in the record books, Your Ladyship.”
“The record books...” Hilary clapped gleefully. “I'll do it! It sounds like a breathtaking idea. After all, I've always said I should be more well-known. Perhaps I'll even get a letter from the great producers in Philadelphia and New York soon.”
Scott chuckled. “Maybe you will, Your Ladyship.”
The Riverfront, Pittsburgh Village, That Afternoon
Scott's legs were sore. He, Elizabeth, Mr. Foley, and Eugenia had spent most of the afternoon hanging posters anywhere they felt an audience would see them. Posters for their play and the Inn now resided on trees, in businesses, on the sides of buildings, and on the community board outside of the town hall. They put advertisements in both of Pittsburgh's newspapers.
Eugenia and Mr. Foley had walked on ahead. Eugenia was chattering in her amiable way. She never let Foley get a word in edgewise, but he didn't seem to mind. He listened dreamily to every word.
Elizabeth smiled at their backs. “They're awfully sweet together, aren't they?”
“Yeah.” Scott grinned. “Foley told me he's really grown very fond of Eugenia. He keeps missing notes when they give lessons because he can't concentrate with her around.”
Elizabeth shivered. “Cold, Liz? It is getting kind of late.” He took off his red woolen cloak without thinking and draped it around her. “Here. This should help.”
“Thank you, Scott, but it's not necessary.” She tried to hand it back, but Scott just pulled it further over her shoulders.
“I'm wearing a coat. You really should have brought your own cloak.”
“It was so warm earlier in the day, I didn't think I'd need it.” Elizabeth yawned. “Maybe we should be getting back. I need to revise the script for 'When In Rome,' and we all need to rehearse.”
He held up a poster. “I have one left to do, Liz. Why don't you, Foley, and Eugenia run along? I'll catch up with you later.”
“Be careful, Scott. I've heard the Crimson Blade's been seen again, stealing from British nobles on the highway and here in Pittsburgh. I don't want you to be robbed, or...” she looked down, “worse.”
Scott gave her one of his famous big grins. “Don't worry, Liz. I could handle the Crimson Blade if I ran into him. I'm pretty good at taking care of myself.”
“All right.” Elizabeth smiled. “I'll see you tomorrow for our first rehearsal.”
“I'll be there with bells on!” He watched as she ran to catch up with Eugenia and Foley, then turned in the opposite direction. He did have one last poster to hang, but that wasn't entirely the reason he wanted to stay by the river. He had his suspicions about James Crawley, the owner of the Weeping Joker Inn and Theater. He'd dealt with Crawley in the past. A few months ago, Crawley wanted to combine the two Inns and share their resources and their staffs, but Scott and Lady Redmond turned down his offer. He wasn't going to take their breaking his inn's record lying down.
He noticed a poster advertising the Weeping Joker's feat on a maple tree outside the building. He smirked, took the poster down, and hung theirs in its place. “Much better.” He tossed the original poster behind a bush, then quietly made his way into the small brick building. He ducked into an alcove just off the lobby. As he took off his coat, a flash of red could be seen glinting in the late afternoon sun...
The Manager's Office of the Weeping Joker Inn, A Few Minutes Later
James Crawley, a tall, balding man with a rather nasal voice, leaned against his desk, looking intrigued. “And in return for helping get the Governor out of jail, you'll find out who owns the Monongahela Inn. I tried to buy it a month ago, but someone got there before I did. No one knows who did it. The purchase was made anonymously by a second party.”
He made a face and indicated a poster for 'When In Rome.' “I don't want this play to go on. The Monongahela's become entirely too popular for my liking. Reservations at the Weeping Joker have been down for months. They've all been going to the Monongahela. 'They have everything going on,' people say. 'Their staff is pleasant and the plays are creative and fun,' they say. And what do they say about here? We've been losing revenue, all because of them. When I buy the Inn, I'll make sure all of those great ideas go here.”
“I think we can work together,” said a stiff, gravely voice. “The Governor isn't any fonder of these people than you or me. One of my people and I will be at the show.” The chair he sat in scraped across the wooden floor. “We have our own ways of dealing with them.”
Crawley's voice sounded annoyed. “And what about Menlow? I thought he was supposed to come around the Inn for the show. I don't know why the boss hired that little creep.”
“I don't, either. Something about him and his woman looking for The Crimson Blade.”
Crawley's voice let out a surprised squeak. “The notorious highwayman? What would he be doing hanging around a tiny hotel in Pittsburgh Village?”
“She.” The voice coughed. “Rumor has it that there's two Crimson Blades, one male, one female. Apparently, Menlow's been seeking both Crimson Blades for years. The Governor entirely obsessed with having him and his new lady friend track him – or her – down. They've been questioning some of their men, but they won't talk.”
Crawley's chair scraped. He took the man's hand. “I don't care about the Crimson Blade. That's Menlow's territory. The Governor can chase after anyone he likes, as long as he keeps bankrolling the Weeping Joker Inn. Besides, the Crimson Blade would never come here, with the guards' protection.”
“I hope you're right.” He stood, taking a poster off the desk. “I have a busy day of taking posters down tomorrow. We can't let this play get publicity.”
The man with the gray hair and bushy mustache who walked out the door didn't see the shadowy figure hiding at the end of the hall. Nor did Crawley. He was too busy reading over the poster for the Monongahela Inn's extravaganza. He didn't even look up when the door opened again. “Just leave the tea on the desk, Mildred.”
“I'm not Mildred.” Crawley looked up to see a large, imposing figure in the darkness. He wore a bright red shirt and dark breeches. His face was covered by a black hood, except for his firmly pressed lips and his softly glittering dark eyes.
Crawley's mouth dropped open. “I know you! I know you from the reward posters! You're the Crimson Blade! But...but...”
He walked slowly around the desk, his sword aimed at Crawley's neck. “What do you know about Cribby Menlow? Who hired him?”
Crawley gulped. “He was hired by the Governor to track down the Crimson Blade. The Governor doesn't like how he's been interfering with his businesses. I think he's delivering marriage papers to two of the Inn's residents, too. That's all I know.”
The Crimson Blade slashed his cravat, cutting it short. He then popped every button off his shirt and vest. “Stay away from the Monongahela Inn and its staff, and tell Cribby Menlow to do likewise, or you'll lose a lot more than a few buttons.”
Crawley reached for a cord, but the Crimson Blade was out the door before he could even ring the bell. It was a few minutes before two servants in footmen's livery met him at the door. “What is it, sir?”
“The Crimson Blade was here! He threatened me and ruined my good cravat! Find him! I want him in jail!” The men darted off. Crawley plopped back in his chair. The Governor isn't gonna like this!
The Basement of the Monongahela Inn, That Night
Hilary groaned. “Scott, you shouldn't have done that. You're lucky you weren't arrested!”
Scott shrugged. “I rattled Crawley and found out that he's got plans for the play, didn't I?”
Jeff nodded. “I just wish you heard exactly what they had in mind. It could be anything!”
Scott sat on a crate. “We'll just have to keep an eye out for anyone who looks like they might be trying to hurt us.” He leaned against the wall. “What a time for Maple to get a cold! We need her help more than ever, especially with Mackie out of town.”
Jeff joined Scott on the crate. “You have us. We'll do what we can. We want to see this play succeed, too. And we don't want you or Maple to get hurt.”
Hilary grinned and sat on the other side of the crate, away from Jeff. “And of course, we want the free publicity. This could put us and the Inn on the map!”
Scott nodded. “I'm gonna need all the support I can get. It's up to us to make sure the show goes on!” His grin spread across his face. “Very exciting!”
The Manager's Office, 2 AM, That Night
The Inn was silent at this time of night. Elizabeth enjoyed the quiet. She was working on revisions for 'When In Rome.' It was just about done. She was looking forward to being able to curl up into bed and relax while the rest of the staff performed the show. Eugenia and Mr. Foley would play the music. It would be the biggest thing the Inn had ever attempted...but she needed rest.
She sighed. Victor had gone to Fort Pitt. Again. The colonies seemed to be closer and closer to being at war with England. It was unthinkable, but that was what they heard from their guests and and the newspapers. Victor's pamphlets and newspaper articles were growing more and more heated. She agreed with him and understood the need to defend their rights to govern themselves, but...what about her? He kept canceling every plan they made together. “This isn't how it's supposed to be!” she said out loud. Victor was supposed to be the one by her side, not....not him. Not Scott. Scott was a scoundrel and a liar who didn't care about anyone.
But he saved your life, and you saved his. He's gone out of his way to be helpful and kind. He just...he lied his way into a job that wasn't his! Who knows what else he's lied about? She tried to concentrate on her work, but her thoughts kept intruding. And what about the Crimson Blade? He certainly seemed interested in you after the ball, and he did save you from Pruitt's wandering hands. What's the story with him...and how did he turn into a she? The woman Crimson Blade looks nothing like the male one.
She never heard the footsteps in the hall. She pillowed her head on her arms, half-asleep. She was so tired, she barely looked up when a figure came into the room. “Victor? Lady Hilary? Scott?”
“Hello, lass.” She shivered as the dark figure stepped into the room. It was the Crimson Blade, just as he appeared the night of the ball. The red shirt stood out, deep and hot in the moonlight. He wore the same dark breeches and high boots and gloves. The concealing hood couldn't hide the longing and sorrow in his brown eyes.
Elizabeth stood, surprised. “What are you doing here? Every officer within a hundred miles of Pittsburgh Village is looking for you! You could get arrested, or killed, or....”
“I'll be all right, lass. I can take care of myself.” He slowly put his arms around her. “It's you I'm worryin' about. You and everyone here. I was at the Weepin' Joker Inn a few days ago. I overheard the owner Crawley plottin' to take control of the Monongahela Inn and sabotage 'When In Rome.'”
Elizabeth was too tired to protest his forward behavior. “Why would he want to do that?”
“He wants the Inn for himself. He'd buy up every idea that the Inn generates, until there's nothin' left for all of you but to be servants for him.” His voice remained a soft, low Irish tenor, but she could hear the rising anger in it. “And it sounds like he's working for the Governor. Pruitt paid for his business. Both he and his crony are in Pruitt's employ.”
“But Pruitt's in jail!”
The Crimson Blade let out a soft growl. “Not for long. He's a rich man, lass, not to mention the head of this colony. He likely has friends in high places who'll arrange for his bail.”
She buried her face into his coarse red shirt. He wrapped his arms around her. She knew the scent of him – sweat, ink, the tang of the riverfront, the harsh soap used to scrub pots and pans in the kitchen. “It's strange. I feel like I've known you for a long, long time...but I've barely seen you. Where have you been?”
“Oh, I had to go away for a while. Let the price on my head die down, so to speak. I had a...friend...who helped me out.”
Elizabeth snorted. “And I'm sure she's a very close friend of yours.”
He chuckled. “Are ye jealous, lass?”
“Me?” Elizabeth looked up at him. “All I want is for you to to trust me, the way you trust your friend.”
He stroked her hair, letting let her burrow into him. “I have to protect ye, lass. I canna be losin' anyone else I care about. There's too many people who know my identity as it is.”
“Please,” she whispered, her eyes already fluttering. “Just...trust me...I can keep a secret...”
“I know you can, lass.” He caught her as she fell unconscious in his arms. “I didn't know I was such dull company, I could put a girl to sleep!”
He easily carried her upstairs to her room. No one saw the man in black and red tenderly lay Elizabeth on her bed and pull the covers over her. Elizabeth barely felt the kiss he gently placed on her lips. “Me poor, tired lass,” he whispered when he finished. “I'll let ye sleep. You've got a busy few days ahead of ye.” He closed the door and made his way towards the servant's quarters.
The Adventures of the Crimson Blade
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