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A bored looking porter approached as Maria sat down. ‘Oui?’
‘I am here to see Madame Catalani,’ Julia said in French with a faint smile, trying for the sort of confident and commanding charm that Lady Geraldine appeared to find so easy. ‘On behalf of Lady Geraldine Masters.’ She produced one of Lady Geraldine’s cards. He glanced at it. ‘Madame is expecting you?’
‘Of course,’ she said. She was going to look foolish if the porter informed her that the singer was not here.
‘Madame is in consultation with the leader of the orchestra. She will not be free for at least an hour.’
‘In that case, I will wait. Kindly show me to her dressing room.’ Julia decided she was definitely more afraid of Lady Geraldine’s displeasure than she was of bored porters or even temperamental prima donnas.
The porter, on the other hand, appeared distinctly un impressed with her. Pre sum ably, he spent his life fending off demanding members of the public—mostly gentlemen—all wanting access to the singers, dancers and actresses. ‘Through there, mam’zelle.’ He pointed to a door. ‘Right along to the end, turn left.’
‘You had better go back to Place de Leuvan,’ Julia told the maid. She could hardly accompany Julia and sit in the singer’s dressing room, not with a basket containing fish. ‘I do not want that herring hanging around in the heat. I will take a cab back.’ The cabs in Brussels were clean and respectable; even Mama could not disapprove of her taking one.
The crimson-flocked wall pa per and gilt and mirrors vanished as soon as she was through the door which opened onto a narrow white-washed corridor leading deep into the back stage area. At one point, she heard a magnificent voice penetrating faintly through the walls. It broke off abruptly, to be replaced by a shriek of displeasure. Madame was obviously not in a good mood. Julia’s steps slowed. She really was not looking forward to this.
Men and women passed her, all in curious, all hastening along on their own business. She could see the end of the corridor ahead and made herself think positive thoughts.
Then she heard Hal’s laugh. That rich, wicked chuckle could not belong to anyone else. There was no-one in sight: Julia applied her ear to the panelling of the nearest door. ‘I look a complete fool,’ he said, his voice becoming fainter as though he was moving away. ‘And I’m bloody uncomfortable in this rig.’
‘Suits you,’ another man said, sounding as though he was choking back laughter. ‘You look remarkably—’ His voice was cut off abruptly as though an inner door had closed. Silence.
Frustrated, Julia stared at the door. It was not as though she wanted to see Hal Carlow again. Liar, an inner voice said. Very well, it was not as though she prudently should see him again. Or dared. She knew she should not trust him. So why was she standing here mooning outside a dressing room door at the Opera?
‘Dressing room,’ Julia muttered. Of course, he was probably in there, with his friend, waiting for a dancer or a member of the chorus. She felt unaccountably miserable.
There was a shout of laughter from around the corner in the corridor ahead of her. Men, several of them by the sound of it, and not the incurious stage hands. They sounded English, boisterous, out for fun, and it was a long way back the way she had come. Then one of them came into sight, talking over his shoulder to the men behind him, and she saw his scarlet uniform. Officers—and here she was, back stage and without her maid.
Julia opened the door and stepped inside, realizing as she did so that she was acting on instinct, going to Hal. The room was empty, but an inner door was ajar and there were sounds of movement from beyond it. Outside, the laughter came closer, stopped. She whisked through the other door, closed it behind her and leant on it. There were two people in the room, but there was no sign of Hal.
Neither occupant had noticed her presence. A broad-shouldered, dark-haired officer with magnificent side-whiskers had a woman with tumbling golden hair bent back over his arm and was embracing her with fervour. The woman flailed her arms, then caught the man a resounding blow on the side of the head that made Julia flinch. The man dropped the blonde with ungallant promptness and she sat on the floor with a thump.
‘Get up, damn it!’ The man was very big and, in his blue uniform, extremely imposing. But Julia could hardly stand by while he assaulted an unwilling female. ‘And don’t look at me like that,’ he added to his victim, hauling her to her feet as Julia reached out to tap his shoulder. ‘You’re enough to put a man off sex for life.’
‘And you, sir, are no gentleman,’ Julia said hotly, prodding h
is broad back instead of politely tapping as she had intended. ‘Is it not enough that you assault an unwilling female, without insulting her into the bargain?’
The woman gasped, rather hoarsely, but then, she had just had a most unpleasant experience. The big man turned round, grinning. ‘You have the advantage of me, madam.’
‘I most sincerely hope so. Now, kindly leave, sir. Major Carlow is close by and, I can assure you, he does not stand for such be ha vi our.’ He turned away, his shoulders heaving. ‘Are you laughing at me, sir?’ Julia demanded.
‘Oh God forgive me, yes,’ he gasped, staggering to the nearest chair and sinking onto it. The unwilling object of his affections was left face to face with Julia.
‘You poor…thing.’ Her voice trailed off. Large blue-grey eyes swimming with tears of mirth regarded her. Turbulent blonde curls cascaded onto broad shoulders and over an startlingly opulent bosom clad in shiny pink satin that seemed under considerable strain. Bright lip stain was smeared over a tanned cheek. A large hand came up and pushed the hair back and it came off and fell to the floor. A wig.
‘Hal?’ Julia gaped as the tears began to pour down his cheeks and he collapsed onto the bench next to the big man, holding his sides as he laughed.
‘Hell! These corsets!’
‘Hal Carlow! What the…the devil do you think you are doing?’
Behind her the door opened and another six large men spilled into the room. ‘Gentlemen!’ Hal stood up, his appearance, without the wig, beyond incongruous. ‘There is a lady present.’
‘You can’t call yourself a… Ah, sorry, ma’am.’ They sobered immediately, and stood regarding her with barely concealed interest.
‘This lady has kindly offered to help with the female costumes and macquillage,’ Hal said smoothly. ‘It is extremely kind of her and, as you may imagine, her presence here is not something to be mentioned outside this room.’ The look he directed at the big man who had been embracing him held a definite warning, but the other officer grinned back and nodded as he got to his feet, joining the others in a chorus of thanks.
Julia found herself being introduced to all of them, including one plump young man who nervously confided that he was the other female character in the entertainment. ‘We’re putting it on for a regimental dinner in ten days’ time,’ he explained. ‘Lieu tenant Hayden, ma’am. I can’t walk properly wearing those, er, am I allowed to say corsets?’
