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“At last! Some action.” Harrison led the way to the door, flinging it wide and calling for Mr Wilder to see his carriage prepared.
Elliot stood in the doorway of the house as the carriage came round, with Grace patting his arm.
“Have you heard anything from Ophelia?” Elliot whispered to his sister.
“I only had the one letter from her, Elliot,” Grace said softly. “She said she was well and she missed us both. She did not leave an address.”
Elliot was gutted to hear it. He missed Ophelia, too, but with her refusing to give any clue as to her whereabouts, there was nowhere for him to even seek her out.
“Let us go, Elliot!” Harrison called from the carriage.
Elliot briefly clasped hands with his sister, feeling the steadiness of her grasp beneath his own. Since Ophelia had been gone, Grace’s mood had turned nearly as dark as his own. He longed to see her happily play at her new pianoforte, but she seemed as disinterested in it now as she was the bugs in the bushes beyond the house’s walls.
Elliot released his sister’s hand and followed Harrison into the carriage. On the journey there, Elliot tried to calm his mind. The drunkenness made his mind swim. Occasionally, Harrison would move in and out of focus, sometimes lit by the lantern above their head, and sometimes cast in shadows.
“Perhaps you are too in your cups for this,” Harrison muttered as the carriage pulled up outside the theatre lodgings.
“Too late for that now, isn’t it?” Elliot asked as he stepped down from the carriage, glad to have his feet on firm ground for it made the dizziness slow. “This way.”
He crossed the open courtyard in the darkness, heading toward the staircase that led to some attic rooms, where candles were lit in windows. At all times, Harrison was behind him, never leaving him. When he reached the door of Celeste’s chamber, Elliot knocked harshly, determined to be admitted.
“It is too late an hour for callers!” Celeste’s voice shouted from inside.
“You never used to say that,” Elliot said with humour, prompting Harrison to hold back a laugh beside him.
“Y-Your Grace?” Celeste stammered on the other side of the door. Soon, her voice was not the only one coming from inside. A man’s voice came, too.
“It sounds to me, Elliot, as if another man has replaced your affections,” Harrison whispered, gesturing to the door. Elliot wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
“I knew it,” he muttered. “Shall we take a wager on what standing he is? An earl, a duke, or a baron?”
“From what you’ve told me, I guess no less than a marquess.”
At Harrison’s words, the door burst open and a gentleman appeared, ruffled and half-dressed as he tried to escape quickly.
“Lord Parkham?” Harrison said in surprise. The man didn’t answer but hurried down the staircase and disappeared across the courtyard. “Well, look at that. It was a marquess.”
Elliot felt some success at last as he held open the door the Marquess of Parkham had left swinging on its hinges and stepped inside. Celeste was barely clothed, hurrying to right her gown.
“What? Did you not expect the father of your child to visit you at night?” Elliot asked, hearing the triumph in his voice already. “Just the other day you were telling me how you were devoted to me and no other.” He gestured out of the door. “I’ll believe the proof of my eyes more than the proof of your words.”
“It’s not what you think, Your Grace.” She reached toward him, but Elliot stepped back, keeping the distance between them. Harrison stepped in the doorway, blocking any exit Celeste might have considered.
“I have not come to rebuke you for sharing your bed with another. Quite frankly, Celeste, I could not care less about that.” The brandy was making his words harsher and blunter than usual, but Elliot didn’t care. All the anger over this last month, of not being able to find Ophelia, had built up to this moment. “What I do care about is that your lies have driven away my chance of happiness.”
“Elliot, please,” Celeste begged, offering a sweet smile that did nothing to change how he was feeling. “I can explain.”
“I do want an explanation, but a different one from what you’re willing to give.” Elliot stood tall and gestured at her figure. “Celeste, the last you and I were together was beyond five months now. If you were with child, there should be some evidence of it.”
She flinched at his words and looked down at her own body. He gestured to her, knowing the truth of the matter. There should have been some change to her body by this point.
“Tell me the truth, now. You are not with child, are you?”
“I…” Her words failed her.
“Cat got your tongue? Allow me to free it.” Elliot took a step forward. “Explain why you lied. Explain it now or I will tell the theatre manager of yourcondition.I don’t imagine a theatre manager has much work to give a pregnant actress. Do they let them go? Harrison, what do you think?”
“I reckon she’d be forced to leave tomorrow,” Harrison said slowly.
