The blatant accusation set me back. “I didn’t...I never...” The remaining words withered under Justine’s judgmental stare.
I shifted my gaze away, rather annoyed by her assumption. Nora was my best friend, by no means would I ever try to hold her back. Perhaps I could have been more supportive the morning she first spoke of being an actress. And not criticized The Beggar’s Opera so openly when she came home after spending the entire day with the fictional Meg Fox. But to be accused of acting out of jealousy? How could Justine make such an absurd claim when she knew that my antagonism lay at her feet and not at Nora’s?
A breath caught in my throat. Good Heavens! Had I actually hurt Nora out of spite for Justine? I wouldn’t have believed it if not for the guilty memories that jabbed at my conscience.
“What part is she playing?” I asked, in a much smaller voice.
Justine waited a moment before answering. “Since the theater manager decided to extend The Beggar’s Opera another week, Nora is my new understudy for Polly Peachum. You didn’t hear it from me though, as I’ve been sworn to secrecy. For some reason, Nora’s gotten it into her pretty head that her best friend would despise her for playing a trollop.” Justine narrowed her eyes. “Can you imagine where she got such a notion?”
My heart felt suddenly heavy. Thinking back on all I had said, it was little wonder Nora hadn’t brought me into her confidence.
Tom set a hand on each hip, widening his already expansive stance into a wall of muscle and bone. “As your understudy, there’s no guarantee that she’ll have a chance to play the part.”
“Oh, she’ll play it all right, tomorrow night when I am struck with a terrible head cold.” A smile curled at the corners of Justine’s mouth. “Be warned, Selah. I shall have you removed from the theater if you try to interfere in any way whatsoever.”
Weariness spread through me, and I pressed into the chair. Blast the woman’s threats! And above all, blast my stupid tongue! For the past week, I had faulted Nora for abandoning me, without any thought of what I may have done to her.
Cate remained at my side, a hand resting on my shoulder. “Justine, what news do you have of the young wretch?”
Justine shifted her weight on the mattress and her expression turned serious. “I’m not positive it’s even her, but I’ve a bad feeling about it. A young girl has taken to coming around the theater since Nora started rehearsals.” A slight crease appeared between her delicate brows. “Nora is more liberal than most with the purse strings, so this girl may just be another beggar in search of a hot meal. Until this afternoon I’ve not worried overmuch as their interaction had been limited to a few words and a penny or two each day.”
A jolt of alarm ran up my spine. “What do you mean? Where is Nora?”
For the first time since entering the room, Justine looked unsure. “Nora invited the girl to sup at a pub today when the dance master called for an intermission. I asked her not to go, but she insisted upon it. I didn’t know what else to do, so I came here.”
“You abandoned her?” I asked. “How could you be such a fool?”
Justine glared at me. “I’m not even sure if this is the same girl.”
“Of course it is,” I scoffed. “And she’s approached Nora twice already before she ever started rehearsing with you. I have to find her. Do you know which pub they went to?” I tried to stand, but Cate held me in place.
“Tiarnach,” she said, addressing the blacksmith by his real name. “Will you go with Justine to look for Nora?”
He nodded and started at once toward the wall panel, while Justine hurried into her cape.
“Do you have the knife?” Cate asked him.
My mouth fell open and I leveled a stare on the back of Tom’s head. He glanced over his shoulder, “Aye, I have it, and know just what to do if we find her.”
“Good,” Cate and I replied together.
I watched in anxious silence as Tom took Nora’s lantern, and the wall panel swung into place. Settling back into the chair, I pressed a hand over my eyes. “Why did you keep me from going?”
“Tom and Justine can see to Nora, and we have more to discuss.”
“What if Nora is ill?” My stomach tightened into a mass of queasy knots from the idea of Nora being infected with the pox, or whatever nasty disease the wretch decided to pass along today. “Can they heal her?”
“Not exactly.”
My eyes popped open, and I twisted around so quickly a nerve jumped in my neck. “What do you mean, ‘not exactly.’ What are their gifts?” Please don’t say agriculture. The last thing Nora needed was a strawberry if she were at death’s door.
“Tom has the gift of metal working and Justine has the gift of poetry and song.”
“You can’t be serious!” Hysterics pushed against Cate’s calming influence. “They can do nothing to help if she’s dying!”