“How did you enjoy the play?” Netta asked Catherine. A silly part of her hoped John’s grandmother was impressed by her performance. John might not care what his grandmother thought, but family ties were stronger than even he could imagine, and Netta desired her approval.
“I was impressed with what just the two of you could do.” Catherine gripped the nob of her walking stick with bent fingers. “And all the costume changes you made…” She shook her head. “Changing your outfits that quickly is an artform in and of itself.”
Praise at changing her clothes wasn’t exactly what Netta sought, but she’d take it. “I’m afraid in our haste to change costumes, Cerise and I left your backstage quite a mess, Mary. Clothing is strewn everywhere.” Netta placed her wineglass down and rose. “I’d best go see to it.”
At the hint of anything as dull as cleaning, most of the women stood and drifted out of the room. “I believe I’ll go see if anyone is using the archery range,” Lady Walpole said.
“But I want to dance,” her friend said.
The crowd left before Netta heard the resolution to that disagreement. Only Cerise, Mary, Catherine, and herself remained. And Wilberforce, of course.
Cerise held out her hand and Netta pulled her to her feet. Dark shadows were emerging under her friend’s eyes and her shoulders drooped.
“Go get yourself a cup of coffee and put your feet up somewhere,” Netta told her. “I’ll take care of the costumes.”
Cerise faux-shuddered. “And face more questions about the bed sport of actresses? No, I thank you. I’ll stay away from the crowds.”
“I am sorry about that,” Mary said. “Some people have damned fool ideas. I don’t think she meant to give offense.”
“And only a little was taken.” Cerise pressed her hand to her lower back and stretched.
“There are places in the club that are private where you could rest in peace.” Netta turned her friend’s shoulders and pushed her towards the door. “Mary, would you show her that lovely spot in the gardens by the gazebo? I believe she can rest there unmolested.” She turned to Wilberforce. “But you should accompany her to be sure.”
The man looked eager, uncomfortable, and nauseous all at the same time. “I’m supposed to be watching both of you.”
“And I’ll come find you as soon as I tidy up. Go on.” She gave her friend another small push, and Cerise glared back at her over her shoulder.
Netta pursed her lips and blew her friend an air kiss.
Wilberforce stood and walked stiffly to Cerise, presenting his arm. With obvious reluctance, she took it.
“Two cups of coffee and one romantic, I mean to say private, place to rest, coming up.” Mary winked at Netta and led Cerise and Wil from the room.
“Can I get you anything, Catherine?” Netta asked. “I can help you to another room first.”
“No, thank you, dear.” Catherine settled back and closed her eyes. “I’ll just rest for a bit myself.”
Netta nodded and headed for the stage. She folded the costumes and stacked them in a large chest. The silence of the room was only broken by her footsteps. The time after a performance, when the crowds were gone and the stage empty, was usually what Netta liked best. But tonight her nerves didn’t calm. She handled the costumes more roughly than they deserved, her thoughts on John.
The game had surely started by now. Was he winning? Would he keep his temper and allow Sudworth to leave with only his pride harmed? And what of his friends? Was she only hours away from being free from the threat?
She blew out a breath. Waiting while others acted wasn’t her style. She found she didn’t care for it.
A board creaked.
Netta paused, shifting her weight, but not hearing the sound again. She looked to Catherine. The woman’s face was hidden by the wingback and her dark gown almost matched the black fabric of the chair. She was almost as invisible as she was silent. The noise hadn’t come from her.
Shrugging, Netta moved for the long red wig hanging off a nail, and a board creaked again.
She whirled around, and the knife the man held at waist-height pressed into her bodice.
“Who are you?”
He stepped closer, digging the tip of the blade into the fabric. “Don’t ask stupid questions.” He twisted his wrist, and Netta gasped at the sharp sting to her abdomen. “One of the men working here was kind enough to tell me about the exit off the stage, and that’s where we’re going.” He jerked his head to the side door. “Move.”
A pale oval peeked at them from behind the wingback, and Netta gave her head a quick shake no.
Catherine couldn’t make a sound. A man like this wouldn’t hesitate to hurt an old woman, not if it saved his own neck. Netta didn’t know what she’d do if she were responsible for getting John’s grandmother killed.
