The Main Room, 6:45 PM
Jeff was holding onto the back of the couch Hilary reclined in just so he could stay upright. Hilary hadn't left the couch in over an hour. She refused to stand up for more than a few minutes at a time. His eyes kept drooping. The tea in the parlor had long stopped doing anything to help.
That was when he saw...him. Through red-rimmed eyes, he could just barely make out a short man with a scrunched-up face like a sick rat's. The moment Hilary finished her line, Jeff swept her into his arms and carried her to the wings.
“Jeffrey darling, why did you take me from the couch?” She leaned into his arms without thinking. “I was...happy there...”
Jeff tried not to be distracted by how close she was, no matter how tired he felt. He sat her down on the couch. “Hilary, there's a man here. He wants to serve us papers.”
She just stared at him. “Serve us papers? They'd taste terrible!”
“No, I think they're from...” he couldn't contain his yawn... “Pavla.”
“He can serve her to the rats, I think...” She leaned into him again.
He was fighting to keep his own eyes open. “Hilary, listen. Pavla...may not want to let me go...or my title, anyway...”
“She can't have you. I'm holding you now.” She was nearly asleep in his arms. He shook her again.
“Hilary, wake up!” He managed a dazed grin. “Hilary, give me your costume.”
“We can't do that anymore. We're not married.”
“No. We're going to change roles.”
“Yes, let's do that. Pass mine to the left, please.”
The Main Room, 7 PM
Abernathy met Cribby Menlow in the audience. There were quite a few eyebrows raised when Lord Singer walked back on in a dress, while Lady Hilary stumbled in wearing his hose and tunic. Both were much too short for her – she wasn't as tall as he was. The murmuring in the audience got even louder when Jeff started playing Hilary's role, and Hilary read Jeff's lines...at least, as well as anyone was reading lines at that point. Scott had to lean against a wooden tree to stay on his feet. Mr. Foley leaned against Eugenia and was rather pleased to see she didn't mind a bit.
Abernathy frowned. “What are they doing?”
Cribby made a face. “That's the worst-lookin' Antony n' Cleopatra I ever saw in my life!”
“That's Lord Singer and Lady Booth!”
“Really? I thought Lady Booth was a lot better lookin' than that.”
“He's the one in the dress! She's wearing the hose!”
“I didn't think they did that kind of stuff in Pittsburgh.”
“Neither did I. I have no idea how they found out, but one of them must have gotten wind of your arrival and warned the others.”
Cribby squinted at Scott. Scott took one look at him and ducked to the back of the stage, behind some scenery. “The guy with the black hair looks familiar.”
“Scott Sherwood. He's one of the menial staff here.”
Cribby looked at his pamphlet that announced the cast and the acts. “Ain't there supposed to be a Maple Martienne in this, too?”
“I was told she was ill and unable to perform. Miss Roberts took her place.”
“I'd love to have a chat with all of these people. Includin' the guy with the dark hair.”
Abernathy nodded. “Any kind of distraction is appreciated. We need to find out who owns this Inn.”
Cribby shrugged. “I don't care if George Washington owns this inn! I have papers to serve, and I need to find the guy and dame for my boss.”
The Hallway, around 9 PM
Eugenia Bremer never felt so tired in her entire life. She and Mr. Foley were practicing their dancing steps and dousing each other with water to try to keep on their feet. They were doing a rather nice minuet when Eugenia bumped into someone going towards the green parlor room.
Cribby tipped his hat at the plump, amiable lady and her slender friend. “Sorry, ma'am. Didn't mean to disrupt ya there.”
She yawned. “Oh, that's perfectly all right! We're just dancing our cares away. Anything to stay awake!”
Cribby nodded. “Have you seen a Lady Booth and Lord Singer?”
Eugenia could remember a name Scott told her and the cast earlier in the sleep-filled haze. “Is your name Cribby Menlow?”
“Yes, ma'am, it is.”
Eugenia took his hand. “Then I'm Lady Hilary Booth, and this” she put an arm around Mr. Foley, “is Lord Jeffrey Singer.” She tried to imitate Hilary's affectations without falling over. “Of course.” Mr. Foley just gave him the biggest smile he could muster.
“You're both a little...short...for their Lord and Ladyship.”
She playfully nudged his arm. “Oh, you know how the drawings in the newspapers add 30 stone and a meter or two. I'm really....” she nearly fell over him trying to measure a height well above her head, “this tall.”
“Well, that'll be between you n' me, Lady Booth.” He nodded at the Green Room. “I have papers I need both of you to sign.”
Eugenia gave him what she hoped was an alluring smile, but the effect was spoiled by an enormous yawn. “Oh dear! I'm so sorry, but Lord Jeff and I really must get back on the stage. Don't we, Mr. F...um, my darling?” Mr. Foley just nodded dazedly. He didn't really know what was going on, other than his sweet Eugenia just called him “darling.”
“Why don't I just wait for your next break, then?”
“You do that.” Eugenia beamed. “Why don't you have a cup of tea? They've been putting the most wonderful flavoring in it. You could take it in the, uh, office. Don't want to disturb anyone napping.”
“Sure, I'll try a cup.”
Cribby wasn't sure what happened. He took two cups of tea to the office the plump lady indicated. He knew darn well she wasn't Lady Hilary Booth. The little man was no Lord Jeffrey Singer, either. He'd wait until he heard one or the other in the hallway to spring the papers on them.
He wasn't sure when it happened. He drank one cup of tea, hoping it would keep him awake. It did the opposite. He felt even more tired. He drank another. He went back to the still-empty parlor and got another cup. It was after the third cup that he felt his eyes get hazy...and then everything got dark.
The First Floor Hallway, 10 PM
Three heads peered into the manager's office. Scott let out a sigh of relief. “He's out cold.”
Elizabeth nodded. “He's the tracker? The man who is after you and Maple and Jeff and Hilary?”
Jeff was clutching the door. “At least that will buy us some time.” He closed his eyes. “Buy us time...can you buy time....”
Elizabeth grabbed his arm. “Whoa, boy! You've got to get back onstage.” She raised an eyebrow. “And you can go back to wearing trousers for now.” She carefully looked him over. “Besides, that dress clashes with your eyes.”
“Oh, ok.” She gently shoved him down the hall, then turned to Scott. He was leaning against a wall, his eyes shut. “Now, you talk. What's this all about?”
“A few years ago, Maple and I worked on...er....a little job together. We were set up to take the fall from two fellows who claimed they had a new kind of wax for candles and seals. We got out of Boston before he could catch us.”
“And he thinks you're guilty?”
“Sure as hope not.” He stumbled as he reached for his pocket watch. Elizabeth took his arm. “Oh, would you take a look at that time? It's very pretty time.” He gazed dazedly into Elizabeth's warm, dark eyes. “Very pretty.”
Elizabeth blushed. “Let's get you back on the stage.”
The Adventures of the Crimson Blade
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