Rose thought about it. “Not friends,” she said. “I don’t think Caterina noticed her much, though she was kind. Ellen admired Caterina, of course. You could almost see her learning from the prima donna, absorbing everything she could.”
“Was she jealous?” Solomon asked.
“A little, I suppose. Who wouldn’t be? Caterina had everything. Or seemed to…”
Constance rose from the sofa. “Could you possibly direct us to her?”
“I’ll get her to come to you here as soon as she’s free. I have things I should be doing for her in her own dressing room.”
“She won’t move here?”
“Not yet,” Rose said firmly, and hurried off.
“Well,” Constance murmured, sitting back down, “that’s one theory gone. It seems our roses really did come from the square garden. Do you believe her that Caterina had ended the affair?”
“She didn’t seem very sure, did she? Darrow did not appear to know it had ended.”
“And Montague didn’t know it existed. In which case, neither of them have a motive to hurt Caterina.”
“Except her money, in Montague’s case,” Solomon said. “And it was only Kellar who peddled that theory.”
Constance cast him an uneasy glance. “Kellar’s mystery is becoming annoying. Again. I think we need to tell him we’ll walk away from this unless he is completely honest and open with us.”
“We don’t know that he hasn’t been. We just don’t quite understand him.”
At the sound of quick footsteps in the passage, they broke off their discussion. A young woman in her early or mid-twenties walked into the room. In appearance, she was Caterina’s opposite, short and plump and ordinary. Though her voice when she spoke was definitely beautiful, despite her harassed expression.
“Mr. and Mrs. Grey? I’m Ellen Gentle. Rose said you wanted to speak to me. Something about poor Mrs. di Ripoli?”
“That’s right,” Constance said.
“I can’t stay for long,” Ellen said. “Everything depends on me tonight, and I have to be perfect. For Caterina’s sake,” she added quickly.
“It must be very difficult,” Constance said, “especially while grieving at the same time.”
“Of course,” Ellen said, though there was no real grief in her expression.
“We understand you learned much from Mrs. di Ripoli,” Solomon said.
“I would have been foolish not to. I suppose everyone has told you I’m not yet ready for this role. They’re right, of course. I will look and sound like the understudy. But I will have done it. And creditably.”
“Were you friends?” Constance asked. “You and Caterina?”
“No. Not that she was ever unkind, and nor was I. She just…moved in a different world from me. She was the prima donna, I very much the understudy who was never supposed to be needed. But I think she liked that Ididstudy. And it’s as well, as things have turned out.”
“I understand she sang well on Wednesday evening,” Solomon said.
“She was brilliant,” Ellen said. “She lit up the stage, the whole auditorium. ShewasGilda, and she sang perfectly. It was probably her best performance, and I have watched them all.”
“Did you congratulate her afterward?”
“Of course, though I doubt she noticed. She knew what she’d done.”
“Did she celebrate with the rest of the cast?” Constance asked.
“Oh, no. She thanked us as usual and rushed off home as soon as she had changed.”
“Was that usual?” Solomon asked.
