Nora’s eyes sparked with determination. “Then we shall go on Saturday,” she said stubbornly. “That gives you three days to clear any other engagements.”
Henry furrowed his brow in thought, as though desperately seeking another excuse.
“I’m afraid we shan’t be going to this play,” I said, keeping my gaze fixed on Nora. “Your mother will never allow it, and we’ve not enough time to create a cover. Why don’t we wait and see what is playing in a few weeks. By then we should be able to devise a credible excuse to go out unattended one night.”
“I am determined to see this show,” Nora said. “After I discovered the playbill, I told my mother that I had the beginnings of a headache and needed a remedy from the apothecary.” She withdrew a small bottle from the folds of her gown and handed it to me.
Removing the cork top, I immediately smelled laudanum. “We are not drugging your mother,” I said, handing it back.
Nora smiled like a fiend. “Oh, yes we are, and she will be sleeping like a babe long before the orchestra strikes the first note.”
James laughed. “You are a wicked young lady,” he said, looking at Nora with blatant admiration. “What say you Henry? Shall we aid and abet this aspiring criminal?”
I remained silent, expecting Henry to squash the scheme at once.
He sighed in defeat. “So be it.”
Chapter Six
A Pox to Thee
True to her word, Nora laced her mother’s tea with several drops of laudanum and enough milk and sugar to disguise the taste. By six sharp Lucy Goodwin was softly snoring in bed when Henry’s carriage arrived. Just outside the front door, a footman was busy lighting the oil lamps, not giving us a second glance as we rushed down the stone steps to meet the men. Another footman opened the carriage door, and we scrambled inside amidst a swish of crisp silk skirts. Even Nora wore silk tonight, choosing her best dove gray gown in place of the usual plain wool.
“The theater is not far,” James said once we were settled. “A ten minute ride at most. Did you speak to the maid as we discussed?”
“It’s all taken care of,” Nora said. “Beth has instructions to send word at once if my mother wakes before we return.”
“And what will you tell her if your absence is discovered?” James asked.
“The truth, of course,” Nora laughed, “that we went out walking in search of a Quaker meeting house.”
With the door closed, James and Nora became dark silhouettes on the opposite bench. They chatted between themselves, their amiable voices offering a sharp contrast to the palpable tension coming from Henry. He stirred beside me, taking my hand as he leaned over to whisper in my ear.
“How is your arm tonight?”
“About the same,” I lied, rather than confess the appearance of several small blisters this afternoon.
Since learning about the little wretch, Henry had taken to examining my burn whenever we were together. Without fail he would frown at the mark like a proper surgeon, and if we were alone, interrogate me further on my first impression of frostbite. Regardless of how many times I argued the impossibility of such a wound, his frown would inevitably darken. One time I even heard him mutter Mr. Chubais’s name, as though the two were somehow connected based solely on a chill.
After seeing the distress a single burn had caused him, I hadn’t yet shared what would happen if I failed to cross into the Otherworld. Even now I prepared myself for further inquiries when he squeezed my hand. “Very well.” Straightening, he turned and stared out the window deep in thought.
His silence persisted until the carriage came to a stop, and he leaned over again. “I love you,” he murmured. “Remember that no matter what else may happen tonight.”
What else may happen? Did he mean the anticipated snubs from the other gentry attending the theater or a possible encounter with his former mistress? He left no time for me to respond to his cryptic words before brushing a kiss against my cheek and rapping on the door.
We stepped from the carriage into a boisterous crowd of theatergoers. Henry’s presence was noticed at once, and those nearest stepped aside to allow room for our small group to move. People stared openly, their conversations growing hushed as we walked by. Surprised by the attention, I felt suddenly awkward and offered a quick prayer to be spared the humiliation of tripping over my gown. Henry moved with his usual grace, seemingly oblivious to the bobbing heads and respectful chorus of “my lord” that followed in our path. It was quite a spectacle, and in truth, I felt more than a little awed that Henry’s presence warranted such behavior.