Nora ought to open and eat a can of sardines just to punish them.
Theresa popped her head back inside.“Are you two coming?”
“You and Flossie go on in; I need a moment alone with Nora.”Lydia waved her off.
Theresa held her hand out.“Give me your keys.You don’t have any booby traps set, do you?”
“No,” Nora answered.“I didn’t have time.”
“Don’t worry.Flossie and I will ensure the house is empty, then we’ll start the hot chocolate.Will you bring my bag with you?”
“Yes, but remember not to attack the vase by the front door again.Flossie’s already had to make two new ones.”
Lydia waited until the others were far enough away to not hear.“Do you want me to guide Flossie and Theresa to a different topic?Mind you, I would love to hear what you really think of Mr.Beaumont instead of all that hogwash you served us, but I also know Theresa can be a little pushy.”
“Please and thank you.I know you hope I’ll find a man who makes me as deliriously happy as you, but I don’t think Mr.Beaumont fits that description.”
“Why not?”
And Lydia was worried about Theresa.“I just need time to make my own decision without being urged toward him.His connections to the opera are something to consider.I have to protect my family.”
“Fine.I’ll guide Theresa and Flossie to other topics.”
A crash of breaking glass echoed onto the street, followed by Theresa’s voice.“Sorry!”
“It’s a good thing Flossie is a potter,” Nora muttered.
“I’ll go help her clean up.Again.”Lydia shook her head as she climbed out with her carpetbag.
Nora sat alone and processed the night before she would have toface the onslaught of Mr.Beaumont–related teasing.Why had that man on the stage—Mr.Adler—struck so much fear in her?It made no sense.Would she always respond like that when attending the opera?Had Winston’s stealing her from the world she loved most ruined her ability to ever enjoy it again?If she took lessons from Mrs.Reed, could she go on a stage without panicking?Even now an odd sensation of being watched slithered up her spine.Impossible, considering she was in a closed carriage.But impossible didn’t keep her heart from sprinting or her breathing from coming in short gasps.Maybe staying out here to think through the night had been a bad idea.Facing the Guardians’ teasing had to be better than allowing her mind to lather itself into another fright.
She collected Theresa’s bag and stepped out of the carriage to the sidewalk.Out of habit, she glanced either direction to check for potential dangers.Other than a lone hack at the corner a few houses down, the street was dark and quiet.
“Do you need help, Miss Nora?”Theresa’s driver asked.
“No, you may go on.Thank you for driving us.”
He tipped his hat from his place at the front of the carriage, then urged the horses forward.As Nora stepped toward the house, a haunting voice called out to her above the clop of hooves.
“Good night,Eleonora Brisbane.”
Gooseflesh crawled up her neck.She spun around, but no one hovered nearby.She glanced at the hack driver, but he was too far away for it to have been his voice.That only left Theresa’s driver.Nora pivoted.An unnatural shadow ran in the street alongside the carriage but quickly melted into the darkness.Had it been her imagination or someone real?
“Nora, is everything all right?”Lydia stood in the doorway.
Nora inspected the street again.Everything was as it should be.
The voice must have been her imagination, stirred up by recounting her tale.It was nothing more.You are safe.No one is here to hurt you.Deep, slow breath.You are not alone.God is with you, and Lydia isat the door.Another slow breath and release.She was fine.The hour was late, and her emotions spent.That was all.
She forced a calmness to her tone as she answered.“’Twas nothing.”
Even so, as she walked into the house, she couldn’t shake the feeling of someone watching her.
Chapter Eleven
EZEKIEL RUBBED HIS EYES, THENstretched as the audience applauded and the curtain dropped on the Saturday matinee showing ofOlivette.One performance down, one more to go this evening, and a few hours in between.The question was how to spend it.As exhausted as he’d been last night, after seeing Adler follow Miss Davis’s carriage, he’d set off to the nearest police station to request a message be sent to Miss Pelton’s fiancé, Detective Hall.While Ezekiel had no idea where the women were heading, he hoped the detective would.Someone had to check they made it home safely.He’d asked for Detective Hall to send him word on what he found, but Ezekiel hadn’t heard anything yet.
Should he return to the police station?Or should he assume that no news was good news and attempt to compose one of the last four pieces for Graham’s libretto?Or should he nap?Uncertainty about Miss Davis’s fate had weighed like a sandbag on his chest all night.Although not all of last night’s weight had been concern for Miss Davis.Tristan took great pleasure in lounging on Ezekiel and suffocating him while he slept.This morning, Ezekiel had awoken to his chin pushed up by Tristan’s rear end and a tail thwacking his cheek.Worse still, Tristan had decided to stretch out and knead Ezekiel’s abdomen with clawed paws.Apparently Ezekiel had overslept, and Tristan was not happy about his delayed breakfast.The cat was more punctual than an alarm clock.
