As she sat at her dressing table, Aislynn intended to apply her makeup for that night’s rendition of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Instead, she found herself caught up in what might occur once the auditorium was empty and she was heading back to Soho with Mr. Steele. She had no doubt he would insist on escorting her to and from the theatre, or at least, send someone on his behalf. She might have fought that decision some days ago but now she had to admit to herself that she was unnerved by the prospect, facing the upset that someone despised her so much that they were willing to kill anyone that resembled either her looks or actions.
She reminded herself that fame came with a price that wasn’t always glowing. Sometimes it brought out those who did not approve of her talents and wished for her to be removed from the stage. It was highly disheartening to think that she might have inadvertently caused Geneva and Mia’s deaths, and the woman from Whitechapel who had started this domino effect that was crashing down around her. Her chest ached so tightly that she found it difficult to draw a full breath, the guilt swarming her from the inside out. She would never forgive herself if she wasn’t able to assist in this murderer’s capture. She had to find a way to lure him into the open and confront him for what he’d done.
There was no way that Mr. Steele would agree to that. He hadn’t wanted her to be a part of the theatre until this had settled down but what he didn’t know about her was that Aislynn Sims wasn’t one to back down easily from a fight. She had stood up to her mother after the last blow that saw them breaking ties years ago. Aislynn could not even say whether she was still alive. She hadn’t heard any word for at least six months, not since she had confronted Aislynn in a drunken stupor and demanded compensation because she thought she had the right to do so. She claimed that she’d offered Aislynn a “good home” and “a loving relationship,” but the truth was all she wanted was the money that she thought she could buy into. When it became clear Aislynn would not part with a single shilling, her mother had left with a threat hanging on her lips.
Had it crossed Aislynn’s mind that her mother was at fault for this string of murders? Of course, it had, but for all her mother’s faults, she could not imagine her as a mass murderer. She was entirely too dependent on opium and drink to focus that much time and energy into something like that. However, if she had enlisted the help of a lover to enact her vengeance…
She knew she had to relay this information to Mr. Steele, whether she believed it to be critical or not. He could look into the matter and discover for himself whether it was worth pursuing or not.
Having taken up temporary residence in Mia’s old dressing room, Aislynn gathered a pot of makeup and began to apply it to her face.
She had a performance to uphold.
The moment the curtain slid into place that night, Cordell got to his feet and offered a large round of applause with the rest of the occupants in the auditorium. He had been keeping a close watch on the crowd all evening but it was difficult to ignore Miss Sims’ portrayal of a timeless, Shakespearean classic tale. She had a way of weaving a certain magic around the assemblage, and the result was spectacular.
Single stemmed flowers were thrown onto the stage and shouts of “Brava!” filled the air, knowing that most of the well wishes went to the leading actress.
Miss Sims appeared through the curtain to grant a final curtsy to her admirers. Nearly everyone got to their feet with rapturous delight that their star had granted them a moment more of her time.
As he glanced around during the overwhelming appreciation being showered upon Miss Sims, he saw one figure standing on the far edge of the auditorium who didn’t seem to be sharing in the enthusiasm. He wore dark clothing, a hat pulled down low over his brow. It was too far away to decipher if the clothing was well made or something simpler. Either way, warning immediately speared down Cordell’s spine as the figure abruptly turned and headed for the exit.
He quickly gave chase, intent on finding the figure before he disappeared into the dark, crowded alleyways of London with the rest of the vermin.
Cordell uttered more than one obscenity under his breath as he tried to make his way to where the figure had departed from. But with the crowd doing their best to impede his progress, he felt little success in victory this night. Nevertheless, his determination spurred him on and when he reached the top of the stairs, he managed to catch sight of a cloak swirling about a pair of ankles as the door shut behind him.
Cordell raced down the stairs and bolted out into the crisp, winter evening, but when he searched the congested thoroughfare, filled with carriages, the stranger had abruptly vanished.
He turned and headed back into the theatre, where a woman gave him a wide berth as they passed each other. No doubt the dark scowl he wore did not bode well.
As the patrons began to disperse, he found his way impeded once again, this time trying to get backstage to see Miss Sims. He finally managed to weave his way through the throng and found her in Miss Smith’s previous dressing room. When he entered, she jumped, as if she hadn’t been expecting him. “Mr. Steele.” She visibly relaxed and he closed the door firmly behind him. His frown must have still been evident because some of the color leeched from her face. “What has happened?”
“I have the feeling I just saw our killer.”
Her expression blanched even further, until she had a sickly pallor on her cheeks. “Did you capture him?”
“Unfortunately, not.” He took his gloves out of the pocket of his greatcoat and slapped them against his palm, the sting of the leather offering him the reprimand he’d been needing. “He was on the other side of the theatre and by the time I managed to make my way clear of the crowd, he had disappeared outside.”
“I see.” She cleared her throat slightly. “This is a temporary setback, nothing more. He will not prevail.”
“Indeed.” It was a statement that Cordell could wholeheartedly agree with. “Once you have changed out of your costume, I am taking you to see Mary.”
She didn’t even blink. “It shall not take me long. Thankfully, the costumes in this play are not that difficult to maneuver.”
Cordell didn’t want to waste too much time thinking about how much he’d like to test that theory. Instead, he let himself out of the dressing room and waited for Miss Sims to join him.
She appeared a short time later, as promised.
The rest of the theatre was still packing up after that night’s performance and Cordell was relieved to hear that the owner had decided that, under no circumstances, should any actress be left unattended after the performance. It was not a cure to the current problem but hopefully it would deter the killer from striking again so soon.
When he’d last spoken to Mary, he’d asked her to have someone watch over Miss Sims. That hadn’t gone as planned because she had been entirely too observant for her own good. However, in the interim, he hoped that one of Mary’s girls might have gained some information from one of their patrons that could be of some use.
He assisted Miss Sims into the hackney and they headed for the other side of Covent Garden that was known for its popular evening entertainment for gentlemen and ladies alike. Gaming hells and brothels littered the streets like various shopping avenues lined Bond Street.
Mary Spade had one of the most popular gentleman’s establishments, not just in this area of the city, but in all of London. She catered to a select clientele with many society peers gaining exclusive access past those hollowed front doors. They were ornately carved and had the symbol of a seashell on the front to represent Aphrodite. Inside, the women were draped with fine silks that left little to the imagination. However, they also wore face coverings to offer the visitor the aura of mystique and allure.
Cordell, of course, was always allowed entry because of his close association to Mary. He escorted Miss Sims past the two men standing guard at the entrance to ensure order was maintained and only those on the master list were allowed to pass through.
Since he didn’t know if Miss Sims had ever wandered into the sanctity of a brothel before he wasn’t sure what to expect. The low whistle she offered was rather unexpected. “I have always heard the interior of Spades was beyond compare but I never thought I would have the opportunity to come inside to visit. In truth, I hoped to never cross the threshold. However, I am glad to have the chance to do so without the need to beg for employment.”
