The Main Room, 8 AM, Three Days Later
Elizabeth and the staff were wide-awake as soon as the rooster in the hen house in the garden crowed. Elizabeth yawned. She felt terribly tired. She still wasn't sure how the Crimson Blade got her in her room a few nights before...or was that even him who appeared to her in the office? Maybe it was all a dream. It seemed so real, though. His arms felt so warm and safe...
She yawned, trying to clear her head. She couldn't think of that right now. The audience would be arriving soon, along with the reporter from the Pittsburgh Daily Gazette who was to record their feat. She tried her best to be alert, but she'd been up for days trying to get everything ready for the show
Scott helped her greet the reporter at the door. The man was big and stuffy-looking, in a stiff dark suit with little embellishment and a bushy gray mustache. The woman with him wore a simple white and red gown. She was corpulent and sour-looking, with her course dark hair pulled back into a heavy bun and beady jet eyes.
“My name is Clifton Abernathy,” the man stated. “I'm here from the Pittsburgh Daily Gazette to make sure your play continues in the same manner the one at the Weeping Joker Theater did. Miss Brumpton is my assistant. There will be intermissions every two hours of fifteen minutes each. I'll monitor the show from the audience to make certain all the staff is awake. Mistress Brumpton will be in the parlor room, awakening your performers at the appropriate times.”
Elizabeth shook his hand. “It's nice to meet you, sir. On behalf of the staff and residents and myself, welcome to our Inn. I hope you'll enjoy our show.” Scott was frowning at Abernathy, as if he were trying to remember something that eluded him.
Miss Brumpton narrowed her tiny eyes. “I hope you do know that if anyone dozes beyond their allotted 15 minutes of sleep, the Weeping Joker Theater will keep their record.” “Oh, don't worry,” Elizabeth giggled. “I'm sure they'll all be dreaming of a lot more than 15 minutes of sleep by the end of this.” Abernathy and Brumpton gave her withering looks. “I'm sorry. I've been up for nearly two days, trying to get this all together. I'm going to go to sleep as soon as the play starts.”
Scott put on one of his grins and took Elizabeth's arm. “Would you excuse us for a few moments? We need to talk about the cast list for this.”
Elizabeth didn't like the look in his eyes. “Scott, please tell me that Maple's cold is better! She promised she'd take the other half of the women's roles with Hilary!”
“No can do, Liz. Maple's better, but the apothecary says she's not quite ready for prime show time. You'll have to take her roles.”
“I can't do that! I'm nearly asleep as it is! The only time I've seen my room in two days is to write and change clothes!”
“You'll have a great jump on the rest of us!” He ushered her to the Green Parlor Room to get into costume quickly for the first act.
The Downstairs Hallway, 11 AM
Hilary and Jeff were sitting together on a couch, Jeff rubbing Hilary's shoulders. She didn't care if she was angry with him or not. She was already beginning to feel a little sleepy. “Jeff, have you seen anyone who might want to sabotage the play?”
Jeff shook his head. “No, but we don't have as big of an audience as I'd hoped. I thought we'd at least get the lunchtime crowd. There's too many empty seats out there for all the advertising we did.”
“I just hope Lester's still outside with those two posters he had hanging on himself. What did Scott call them?”
Jeff pushed harder at her shoulders. She sighed. “I think he called them 'sandwich boards.' Lester's a messenger. If anyone knows how to deliver information, it's him.”
Hilary leaned against his arms. “Jeff, I'm just going to close your eyes...my eyes...”
“What are you doing?” Abernathy's grouchy bark immediately jolted Hilary back into wakefulness. “You know there's no sleeping allowed on the job.”
“Oh, no.” Hilary patted Jeff's arm. “We were just discussing all of my Jeffrey's faults. We'd gotten up to number 43.”
“As long as you weren't sleeping.” He stomped to the main room. Hilary hissed at his back.
“Sorry he saw you dozing, darling.” He looked down at her thoughtfully. “I wonder what's up with him, anyway? Did someone catch him on the wrong side of the bed?”
Elizabeth wasn't lasting long. Her yawns were getting bigger and bigger by the minute, and her eyes drooped further and further. Not to mention, no one had seen anyone who was even remotely looked like they could be the saboteurs. They were all drinking gallons of tea to keep awake.
Scott stumbled into the parlor, his red coat slung over his arm. “Top o' the morning, Miss Brumpton!”
The corners of her thin lips went down. “But it's evening!”
“Not for me.” He set a large alarm clock. “I'm going to use a little hypnosis trick I picked up when I was a mere pirate lad in Africa to get right to sleep.” He settled down on the cot set up in the room. “Awaken me at the proper time, lass.”
“All right.” She returned to making the Liberty Tea. She looked over her shoulder at the dark-haired man who slept in the cot before hiding the tins. These were special types of tea...ones that would make sure the cast would never make it through the first day.
Brumpton was rather disappointed when Scott leaped out of bed the moment the alarm went off. “Why lass, you almost let me oversleep! I'm due on the stage in twenty minutes.”
She rushed over with a cup of coffee. “Don't you want a little something before you go onstage?”
He pushed the cup away. “To be honest, lass, the tea isn't keepin' me awake anymore. I guess I've developed a resistance to it.” He gathered his coat and made his way to the hall.
Scott was passing through the lobby when he saw Abernathy writing a letter at one of the desks. “What'cha doin', sir? Writing to family?”
Abernathy covered the letter quickly. “Oh, no. Just my employers at the Gazette. They'll need the full dispatch on the first part of the play by tomorrow.” He stuffed the note in an envelope and pressed sealing wax over it. “I'll take this back on my way home for some much-needed rest. Another reporter will be around to take my post in a half-hour.”
Even when tired, Scott's mind was working overtime. “You know, our own messenger could take this to the Gazette for you, for no extra charge, of course. I'll see to it that he gets it right away.”
“Of course. That would be most useful. It would save me valuable time.” He called outside. “Messenger!” Lester, still wearing his sandwich board, trooped in. “I have a letter for you to deliver to the...the Post Gazette.” He looked at Scott, then scrawled something on the letter's envelope. Lester raised his eyebrows. “Take this to this address. If you get there in a half-hour, they'll be an extra two bits in it for you.”
Scott opened the door for Abernathy. “Let me help you out. It's kind of my job as valet.”
The moment Abernathy hit the porch, Scott went to Lester. “Let me read that letter. Something's fishy here.” He carefully opened the seal and read the contents. His eyes widened in shock. “Lester...this isn't for the Post Gazette. The address is for the riverfront. The Post Gazette's office is near the market place.” He quickly resealed it. “Take this to the riverfront. Don't tell Abernathy you let me read it.”
Scott pulled out his ever-present pocket watch. “Oh, would you look at the time? I have to get on that stage, before Hilary remembers she's too tired to commit several murders that aren't in the script.” He gently pushed Lester out the door. “And you have to get moving.” Scott hurried to the stage just in time to hear Hilary's annoyed squawk over his absence.
The Main Room, 8AM, The Next Day
Even as he announced the start of Two Gentlemen of Verona, Lord Jeffrey Singer was struggling very hard to stay awake. Scott Sherwood didn't seem too bad, but Hilary was in and out, Eugenia Bremer was half-asleep over her pianoforte, and Elizabeth looked as if she was about to fall over. It was a good thing they didn't have much of a breakfast crowd. Abernathy had gone home to bed; the man he'd sent to replace him temporarily was snoring in a chair right in the front of the stage.
Jeff was mid-way through a monologue when he heard a soft “thump.” Everyone onstage all turned at once to see Elizabeth somehow asleep sideways on a stool. Jeff scratched his head. “How on Earth did she do that?”
Scott and Mr. Foley hurried over to her. “Lad, the important thing is, how are we going to bring her out of it?” He slapped her face gently, but her only response was gibberish.
Jeff just shook his head. “That's it. She's gone. She's not coming around.”
Scott nodded. “I know.” He turned to the audience. “Uh, due to a...technical malfunction...we'll be taking a five minute break. 'Scuse us.” Mr. Foley and Lester drew the curtains.
Hilary just sat where she was, muttering to herself about coffee and mattresses. “What are we going to do?” Eugenia wailed.
“I have an idea.” Scott turned to Mr. Foley. “Do you have strips of tea-dyed linen and dark berry ink?”
Eugenia beamed. “Of course he does!” Mr. Foley gave her a rather amused look.
The Green Parlor Room, 12 PM
There was no way Lady Hilary Booth was getting out of that cot. Her dreams were too lovely. At least she could sleep in a cot. Poor Elizabeth had collapsed onstage. Scott and Mr. Foley wrapped soft linen the color of her pale skin, with eyes drawn in the center. It looked silly, but Elizabeth was kept in the back, and at least it didn't seem to bother the rowdy lunch crowd too much.
Abernathy gave Her Ladyship a small shove to make sure she was deep in dreamland before turning to Brumpton. “Are you sure that brew will work?”
“I picked it up at the apothecary in the village yesterday. If our herbal tea doesn't work, this will. Did you get a response to that letter?”
Abernathy nodded. “The guards took down all of the remaining posters for the play and replaced them with posters for the Weeping Joker Inn. There will be no audience tomorrow.” He made a face. “Menlow's coming by this evening to look for the Crimson Blade. Apparently, his lady friend will be around tomorrow. I don't trust that man. I wish he didn't have to be involved. I don't care about the Crimson Blade. I haven't seen anyone who remotely looks like a Crimson Blade.”
“Nor have I.” She finished pouring a few drops of the bottle into the tea. “From what I've heard, though, he – or she – is a master of disguise. They could be anyone. Even...” Her eyes drifted to Lady Hilary on the cot.
Abernathy let out a short bark that may have been a laugh. “Her? She's just some aristocrat. She's no more a Crimson Blade than I am.”
Jeff hurried in, stifling a yawn. “Hilary, dear, it's time to get up! You only have a few minutes!”
Hilary shook her head. “Oh Jeff darling, I was having a wonderful dream about being asleep...”
“Hilary!” He shook her hard. “You're due on-stage in ten minutes!”
She pushed him away. “All right. I'll go onstage.” She made a face. “But I refuse to stand on my feet any longer.”
The Main Room, 5 PM
Elizabeth wasn't sure when she awoke. All she knew that she was conscious, and she could hear the audience murmuring, but she couldn't see them. Something was wrong. She let out a screech before she felt a set of strong arms direct her towards her right.
“Scott? Where am I? Why can't I see? Have I gone blind?”
She was never so grateful for her sight as she was when whatever was covering her eyes dropped from her head. She and Scott were in the wings, sitting on a prop bush. “I can see! Thank goodness! It's a miracle! Scott, what happened?”
“You took the world's longest nap right under Abernathy's nose is what happened!”
Elizabeth looked worried. “But I cheated! We're only supposed to sleep for fifteen minutes!”
He shook his head. “Liz, I know a lot more about cheating than you do. You're going to have to finish this play.” He yawned heavily, trying to keep his own eyes open. “Eugenia can barely remember her own name, Foley hasn't spoken in hours, Hilary won't even stand up anymore, Jeff's nearly gone, and I...I have things I need to do.”
Elizabeth saw the hard look in his eyes. “What things?”
“There's someone coming here tonight that I'm going to have to head off. I can't let him know that I'm here. Maple, either, or Jeff and Hilary. His name is Cribby Menlow. He tracks down errant spouses and other minor felons for a price. He's the most persistent weasel in the entire Pennsylvania Colony!”
Elizabeth yawned. “I don't remember seeing anyone like that, but I haven't been...there...for a while. I'll keep an eye out for him.”
Scott nodded. “I'll warn Jeff the next time we have a break. I don't think Hilary's awake enough to comprehend anything but sleep.” His yawn got wider. “Oh, sleep. How I wish...” He pinched himself hard on the arm, wincing. “Ouch!” He finally took Elizabeth by the arm. “All right now, lass. Let's finish that show. Remember, you're going on there a writer, but you're coming back...well, you'll be comin' back a writer.”
“I'll keep that in mind.” They both rushed back onstage.
The Downstairs Hallway, Around 6 PM
“What?” Jeff Singer's eyes were wide. “Why...” he yawned, “would some tracker want me?” His yawn grew even wider. He leaned on the arm of the couch he and Hilary sat on earlier to keep from ending up on the floor.
“Pavla, at least for you.” Scott yawned himself. “Mapes and I go way back with him.” He wobbled, grabbing the other end of the couch. “Let us just be sayin' he's not the laddie to be givin' up.” His Irish accent thickened with every word.
Jeff tugged his oversized velvet tunic. “Good thing we're already in costume. It'll be a lot easier to hide.”
“I'm gonna need a different costume before the night be through, lad.” He showed the bit of red under his own purple striped silk tunic. “The Crimson Blade will be payin' a visit to Mr Abernathy tomorrow.” Scott tried for his usual cheeky grin, but it looked more than a little lopsided. “He be wantin' to know what's the connection between him and that little tracker.”
Jeff caught him before he pitched on the floor. “For now, maybe we ought to be onstage. Hilary may have pinched herself long enough to realize she and Liz are doin' monologues to each other.”
The Adventures of the Crimson Blade
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