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“Listen, Andrew, have I ever opposed a mission before?”
“Yes! You oppose every single one!”
She gave him a flat look. “I play devil’s advocate until we have the details fine-tuned. I am not playing devil’s advocate this time. This time I am stating, for the record, that this mission is doomed.”
“So noted.” Ffoulkes pretended to make a check on the documents before him. “Now, let’s discuss the plan for the festivities tomorrow afternoon.”
Alex sat, leaned her chin on her hand, and tried not to think of this as her last night of freedom.
The next morning she arrived at the theater early, only to discover that in light of the cancellation ofJulius Caesar, her presence was not required. The managers were discussing which of the plays approved by the Committee of Public Safety they might present instead, which really meant those plays that hadn’t already been performed all over the city a hundred times.
“I have no great love for Shakespeare, but I do have a fondness for bread.” Élodie, one of the other actresses in the company, followed Alex back into the street. “They may debate the play for days and in the meantime, we starve.”
It was true. If the actors were not performing, the theater was not taking in money, and no one was paid. With winter coming, everyone was keenly aware of the shortage of flour for bread and wood for fires.
“Deville and the others will figure out something,” Alex said, trying to sound reassuring, though she had no great expectations and not a little guilt at her role in the current crisis. The theater had been floundering for some time now, and if it wasn’t for the financial support of the Scarlet Pimpernel, Alex herself would be hungry.
“That is easy for you to say.” Élodie sniffed. “You have a man to look after you. I have only creditors, and if I cannot pay them with coin, they demand payment through other means.” She plucked at her wilted tricolor cockade, the symbol of the patriots. “I thought this revolution would help the poor. Instead, I find it has impoverished me!”
“Shh!” Alex grabbed Élodie’s arm and dragged her aside. “You take your life in your hands to criticize the government so openly.”
“So then I should wither away quietly and without protest?” Élodie put a hand to her forehead.
Alex suppressed a smile at the other actress’s dramatics. “Will you go to the festival today?”
“What are we celebrating? The beet root or is it the cricket?”
It might have been any of those. The republican government had created its own calendar and religion. Instead of honoring saints on each day, plants, animals, and minerals were honored. Today was a festival that made no sense to anyone but those who had organized it.
“There will be food and drink. Come for that alone.”
“I will go if you go,” Élodie said, twining her arm with Alex’s. “Walk with me?”
Alex had not meant to attach herself to Élodie for the walk to the festival, but she would not resist such a pairing. The more she was seen in the company of those who had nothing to hide, the better. “Yes. I will come to your house at two.”
“Do not be silly! Your house is on the way. I will fetch you.” And with a quick kiss on both her cheeks, Élodie was gone. Alex watched her go, dreading the hours before her, hours she would spend making herself into a woman Tristan Chevalier could not resist.
