Page 98 of Unforeseen Affairs
In the opposite wing, on the other side of Mr. Bass, a stagehand was watching the proceedings with mouth agape. Colin briefly locked eyes with him, but he could see that the man was in a state of befuddlement and would be of no help.
No more time for dithering, he admonished himself.
With all of his strength, he charged at Trenwith and tackled him again, sending him back down to the floor. Trenwith struggled, but Colin hadn’t spent his adult life handling unruly seamen to be bested on land by this bastard. With a thick, satisfyingthudhe pinned him to the ground face-down, holding his arms behind his back.
Only then did he look up.
It didn’t feel strange at all, standing alone before the lights with a sea of wide-eyed faces staring back at her. After all, she’d been on a stage many times before, whether she was running out to interrupt rehearsals or playing jacks upon the boards with the wardrobe keeper’s son. The audience was immaterial; she’d heard them nearly every night of her childhood, sometimes twice in an evening when she was older.
Mr. Bass turned about, shuffling his long legs with some difficulty. He stood nearly four hands taller than he’d been before, looking not quite human, as if he’d stumbled out of one of Charlotte’s restless dreams.
She could practically feel his shock and confusion as he stared at her, slack-jawed. To her surprise, she felt a strange sense of calm. She smiled at Mr. Bass and stepped forward.
Finally, she thought.Finally, Mama, I’ll expose him to the world.
And then she paused.
Why? Why must it be like this? Her motivation had been to ease the mind of Mrs. Stone, so that her temperament might be placated long enough to teach Charlotte proper mediumship. But had Charlotte not just seen her true heart’s desire? Her mother had not only shown herself to her, but blessed her with her love and support. Couldn’t she be content to leave it be now, and take Colin up on his gentlemanly offer of marriage? To wed him and spend all their nights together? To bear his child?
His child?
Charlotte shook her head; her mind was careening off a cliff. She forced herself back into the moment.
“What ho?” Mr. Bass intoned with a forced joviality. “A maiden! A witness, to prove to you all that I have grown without any parlor tricks, without any subterfuge!”
The audience laughed awkwardly. Charlotte sensed that they could tell this was not part of the show, but their anticipation was palpable. This was far more exciting than what they had expected for the admittance fee.
She looked back to the wing.
Colin was there on his knees, with Trenwith face-down beneath him. He was holding the attacker’s arms behind his back, rendering him entirely at his mercy.
He caught her eye and nodded, urging her forward.
Charlotte thought of Mrs. Gearing, so eager to hear word of her departed son. And of Mrs. Kitson, deceived into thinking she was receiving a message from one of her children who never made it into this world.
She must see this through. They had undertaken this task together, and she had to finish it for him. He’d sworn to help her, to do whatever she asked of him. Sir Colin Gearing was nothing if not loyal.
And she loved him dearly for it.
“A maiden?” Trenwith raged, straining to turn his head sideways and keep his face off the floor. “More like your slag, I’d wager.”
Colin felt himself flooded with blind, red fury.
This man had attacked Charlotte, had held a knife to her. And now hedaredto insult her? Without further thought, Colin took a swing at him. The well-placed hook struck Trenwith just above his jaw, slamming his head into the floor and knocking him out cold.
Colin remained on top of Trenwith, breathing heavily. Never before had he lost his temper so. Never had he delivered a blow to a man unable to defend himself.
But he found he didn’t care anymore. He stood up, releasing his limp prisoner, and looked out at the stage.
He watched as Charlotte took another step toward Mr. Bass, bringing her heel down as loudly as she could.
“No,” she said in a voice more commanding than any he had heard from her before. “I am not your assistant.” She paused, waiting for the excited whispers of the audience to fill the silence before continuing. “Nothing of the sort.”
Colin thought he marked a sudden change in Mr. Bass’s expression, as he seemed to recognize both her and her aim all at once. He began to look frantically about, hopping clumsily from one outlandishly long leg to the other, unable to bend them.
Colin felt as frantic as Mr. Bass looked, but he stayed where he was. This was Charlotte’s task to finish—on that she had been insistent—and he knew she was more than capable.
He trusted her.
