Page 99 of Unforeseen Affairs
Suddenly she rushed at Mr. Bass, knife at the ready. She reached up and seized a handful of fabric about his middle—his shirt and vest, perhaps part of his coat. Mr. Bass began twisting awkwardly back and forth as he struggled against her hold, but she refused to relinquish her grip.
“Unhand me, miss!” Mr. Bass yowled as he stumbled backward.
Charlotte held fast, staggering along with him, until they were very nearly upon the curtained backdrop. Gasps and shouts rang out across the audience, but she was determined. Somehow, they both steadied themselves without falling.
Finally, once she had regained her balance, she was able to position the knife just so, that she might cut the garments without hurting the man underneath. The audience reacted with blood-curdling screams, thinking she intended murder. With one slashing motion Charlotte ripped the blade through the fabric, cutting as long of a gash as she could. Then she tossed the knife aside, grabbed at the edge of the gaping hole, and began tearing away.
A huge flap opened at Mr. Bass’s front, exposing a strange cage of leather straps about his torso, along with metal braces secured around his hips and running down his legs.
After a moment the screams died down, giving way to a rumble of murmurs. Some members of the audience were standing, trying to get a closer look at Mr. Bass.
“Yes!” Colin whispered, clenching his fist victoriously. “You’ve done it!”
Charlotte had picked up the knife again and was slicing the rest of the way down Mr. Bass’s trouser legs, a woman determined even as he danced back and forth in a panic.
Mr. Bass was upon metal stilts.
An enormous gasp rose from the audience, and many began pointing at him and shouting.
Now, Colin thought, struggling to contain his excitement as he watched Charlotte drop the knife again and straighten herself to speak.Tell them all.
But before she could open her mouth and declare Mr. Bass a fraud to all in attendance, he began to wobble atop his stilts. He threw his arms out and waved them wildly in a desperate attempt to keep his balance, but it was to no avail. Mr. Bass fell backward, right into the grand drape.
Oh no.
A hideous groan cut through the din, followed by thunderous sounds of splintering and cracking.
Colin was dimly aware of shouting, of his feet moving.
He saw Charlotte look up, then step backward. He reached out. But it was no use. He was too far away.
The gigantic curtain, and the entire rigging system above it, came crashing down.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Onebyonethepulleys hit the stage, each with a horrifying smash. Colin covered his head, as if his forearm would do much to shield his skull if a wooden and metal pulley half the size of a grown man were to land on him from such a height. Indeed, he’d once seen a sailor nearly lose an arm when a worn piece of rigging snapped.
Charlotte.My god, Charlotte.
He began feeling about the massive drifts of heavy damask, frantically pushing waves of it aside as he waded through it. Panic set in within seconds.
She’d been right underneath it. It had all come down on top of her.
He ought to have moved faster. He ought to have been closer. Ought to have been onstage with her, not in the wings. He’d failed her.
He felt a wave of dizziness arise in his head, but he ignored it. This could not happen, not now. He had to get to her.
Colin could barely inhale, so thick was the dust floating in the air. But still he scrambled, pushing his hands down intothe bunches of fabric, scratching at the swatches, feeling for anything solid beneath the curtain. A horrible voice whispered in his ear, hissing his deepest fear.
No.
And then he felt it. Underneath a bunched-up swath of curtain there was a foot, then an ankle and a leg.
“Charlotte!”
He clutched at it, tugging and gathering up the thick, heavy drape with his other hand. It was an exhausting exercise, so great was the curtain’s weight. Perhaps he was just delirious with fright, but he could have sworn he felt the limb he was holding in place strain against him.
He gradually became aware of the presence of others around him; a throng of muscled stagehands in their shirtsleeves were pulling at the curtain as well, heaving it aside in a desperate attempt to find the people who had been at the center of the spectacle onstage only moments ago.
