Chapter 13

CHAPTER13

Ellie paced the terraced lawn west of the hotel, attempting to cool her emotions with the bay breeze. Peace remained elusive. The sound of a bowling ball scattering pins and cheering carried from the bowling alley in the basement, and a couple of chattering girls wheeled their bicycles past, bound for the adjacent shop. Seagulls cawed overhead.

She sought refuge in the Japanese Garden. Quiet closed around her, and a stone bench by a koi pond beckoned. Ellie leaned over to track the progress of the bright orange and yellow fish among the lily pads, but their frantic movement mirrored her thoughts, and the musical chu-wee of a snowy plover in a cedar tree brought to mind her bird story, now beautifully illustrated but still lacking an ending.

Was Aunt Florence right? Did Lewis look on her as a mere diversion? A potential employee? Either of those possibilities would crush her—even if he had nothing to do with the necklace’s disappearance. Did she have the courage to look him in the eye and ask the questions she had for him? She had half an hour before their meeting. Ellie prayed for guidance.

As she returned to the walkway, a familiar figure caught her eye—the head porter who’d accompanied Lewis and Giovani to their storage rooms the day they’d arrived. He headed east, the same direction she was bound, so she trailed him at a distance. When he turned into the entrance between the west and east basements, Ellie hesitated. Hadn’t Lewis told her the man had a master key? That he would use it to allow stagehands to access the equipment rooms before the performance? On impulse, she followed.

An employee pushing a handcart joined the porter. Talking and gesturing, they made their way to Gaspachi’s storage rooms. The porter held the door while the younger man entered, then left it ajar. Ellie paused behind a laundry cart.

A moment later, the porter reappeared. He called back inside, “Call me when you finish unloading.” Without glancing toward Ellie, he departed in the opposite direction.

She sidled up to the door and peeked inside. Things had changed since she’d last been inside—the film camera moved, crates and boxes unpacked. A chair sat near the door, a false bottom extended. Next to it, an electromagnet lay on a wheeled cart. Along the wall, birds and bunnies teetered and hopped in open cages. But there was no sign of the employee. He must be in the innermost room. She could take a quick look around and be out before he finished unpacking that massive handcart. If she found nothing, she could meet Lewis in the tea garden.

Reassured by whistling and thumping from the opposite direction, she moved into a smaller side room—and stopped upon sighting a scuffed brown safe on a table. Ellie clamped her hand over her mouth. Could it be? She hurried over and examined the numbered dial.

Could Lewis have learned the combination of the Hastings safe? In case this was the same, she tried Ada’s birthday—right, left, right to the matching numerals—then tugged on the door. It didn’t budge. This was silly. Cora’s birthday? The girl had proudly told Ellie the date she’d turn ten. Ellie spun the dial. Nothing. She’d told Cora her birthday and even whispered the horrible truth that she’d be thirty on the next one. Surely, Cora wouldn’t have told Lewis, and surely, he wouldn’t use…

In the midst of her entering the combination, a lock clicked. Not the one on the safe. A louder sound that came from near the hallway. Ellie hurried to peek into the main room—now dark and empty. As was the larger inner room. She ran to the exit. Her heart plummeted as though it had been sucked down by Aunt Florence’s Hydro-Vacu. The door wouldn’t open.

* * *

Half past five, in the tea garden, Lewis checked his watch. Where was Ellie? Would she stand him up? He should’ve written a better explanation on his note. Of course, a woman of her dignity would be insulted by such an abrupt summons—as though she was a servant, just the way her aunt treated her. He should’ve gone in person, with a big bouquet of flowers. No. A nosegay for the ball—an apple blossom. I prefer you above all.

But did she prefer him? Maybe he’d been right, and Ellie valued her independence over commitment, especially with a child involved. Or maybe that false suitor had crushed her trust beyond repair. Either way, he needed to speak with her face to face. To learn the truth. He deserved the truth. So did Cora, who had worn down his patience the last few days by asking about Ellie nonstop.

Ada had assured him Ellie would see him, but they were running out of time. Another few minutes, and he’d have to leave for the dinner Giovani was holding for the workers.

* * *

At six, in the basement, Ellie wiped tears from her face. Where was everyone? Why weren’t workers constantly in and out of Gaspachi’s storage, preparing for the show? And while surely employees passed in the hall, the massive door, thick walls, and clunking from the nearby laundry must drown out her calls.

Well. Someone would come eventually. And meanwhile, she ought to try again to crack open that safe. She got up from the chair with the false bottom and returned to the side room—where the safe door now stood open. She gasped. Her birthday combination must’ve worked

Ellie hurried forward. Her stomach sank as she approached…for inside the safe lay a single box. One she recognized. And inside that box, a velvet bag containing Florence’s necklace. The diamonds winked on her palm in the dim electric light.

Her breath wheezed out slow and painful. So she had been right. The Great Gaspachi had taken the necklace, and if it was here and not in Giovani’s room, Lewis must know. He knew everything in this place.

Not if she could help it. She might just have an ace up her sleeve, after all.

Ellie slid the bag containing the necklace into the top of her padded corset—finally, the stupid thing proved of some use—and returned the box to the safe. She closed the door and spun the dial. Then she set about doing what she was best at…investigating. As far as she knew, there was only one way in and out of here, but this was a magician’s lair, wasn’t it? If chairs could have false bottoms, if obliging kettles could pour any kind of tea and mechanical orange trees could produce real fruit, couldn’t there be a hidden exit?

She searched the walls, moving boxes and wedging herself behind furniture when necessary—to no avail. But a series of gears and cranks appeared to operate some sort of dumbwaiter in the far corner of the innermost room. Ellie turned the smallest crank, watching for an elevator to raise or lower in the wooden frame. What she did not expect was for a portion of the wooden ceiling to descend from above.

* * *

An hour later, Ellie found the Egyptian dress hanging on the armoire, clearly altered, but no Maeve in sight. In fact, the silence of the apartment indicated the family had gone to dinner without her. Not surprising, considering how long it had taken her to affect her escape from the magician’s storage room. She brushed another line of dust from her gored skirt and poked her head into her aunt and uncle’s bedroom.

Gertrude looked up from arranging Aunt Florence’s cosmetics. “And just where have you gallivanted off to?”

“Never mind that. Where is Maeve?”

“In her room on the fourth floor, I’d suppose.” The maid went back to her business with a smirk that aroused Ellie’s suspicion.

Ellie whisked back into her bedroom. She placed the dress and some supplies into a valise and hurried for the stairs. At the door she knew to be Maeve’s, she knocked. “Maeve, it’s Ellie.”

The door cracked open, and a puffy and blotched face peered out.

“Whatever has happened? Do let me in.” After the girl stepped back for her to enter, Ellie hesitated before placing her bag on one of two narrow metal-framed beds. “Is this Gertrude’s?”

“It would be, but she prefers a cot in the dressing room to the servants’ quarters.”

Ellie turned to embrace Maeve. “Why are you up here, crying?”

“Oh, Miss Ellie. After you left, the missus called me and Adam in for questioning again. Only this time, it ended far worse.”

“Then I have something that will set your mind at ease.” Ellie reached into her bosom and pulled out the velvet bag.

Maeve gasped, grabbed it, and peered inside. “Oh, law. It’s truly the necklace. Where did you find it?”

“In The Great Gaspachi’s storeroom—which required many gymnastic attempts to escape, I might add.”

“You got shut in there? We all wondered where you were.”

“For a bit.” Ellie rubbed the leg which had begun to smart during her dash to the fourth story. She’d landed poorly on it as she leapt onto the portion of the stage floor she’d cranked within range of a climb to regions above.

Maeve’s eyes, liquid pools of compassion, met hers. “Oh, Miss Ellie. So it was Mr. Thornton?”

Ellie took the necklace and returned it to the bag. “I have to believe he was involved. I’ll know the truth soon enough, but I need you to help me dress for the ball.”

But Maeve shook her head. “I dare not return to your room.”

“Gertrude acted strangely, so I brought everything here.” Ellie indicated the valise. “But why should you be worried if I have proof of your innocence?”

“Because that’s not why your aunt dismissed me.”

“Dismissed you?” Ellie could barely get the words out. “Why?”

“Because of Adam. She forced us to admit our feelings for each other. Said she wouldn’t have a sordid affair going on beneath her very nose. We’re to leave on tomorrow morning’s train.”

“But how did she know?”

“I think…” Maeve dropped her gaze. “I think it was something you said to her.”

Ellie searched her memory of her last conversation with Aunt Florence. She’d been so flustered by her aunt’s insinuations about Lewis that she could scarcely recall what might have given a clue about Maeve and Adam. “I don’t know what it was, Maeve. If I did, I promise, it was not intentional. I would never—”

Maeve clasped her hand. “I know, Miss Ellie. It’s not your fault.”

“But I feel horrible. I must set this to right. And I intend to.” Ellie focused on Maeve. “I have a plan. Will you help me?”

* * *

“Where is she?” Lewis searched the crowded ballroom for the umpteenth time before turning to his companions. “Is she coming?”

On Jesse’s arm, Ada gave him a compassionate smile. “I’m sorry, Lewis. I don’t know. As I told you, when I returned from dinner, the dress was gone, so Ellie must’ve been there, but I never saw her.”

“Where would she wear a ballgown if not here?”

“Hopefully, she will come. She’s been more than a bit mysterious lately.”

She couldn’t have said it better. With every evasion, Lewis’s frustration mounted.

The dance master announced, “La Contre Danse.” The orchestra played an introduction.

“Do you mind if we join in, old chap?” Jesse peered around Ada, hopeful.

“Of course not. Go ahead.” Lewis waved his hand. After this dance, he’d have to go backstage, anyway. The hour approached eleven, the start of the show.

He grabbed a drink from the refreshment table as couples faced couples in lengthwise sets—forming a perfect opening to the door the moment a figure in beige silk appeared. Lewis lowered his goblet.

Ellie. But could it be?

The chandelier reflected off waves of golden hair, unbound like a girl’s but woven with turquoise ribbon. Beneath a short fur stole, beads of the same shade accented the gown—a gown which perfectly draped her slender figure. She looked like an elven enchantress, a spirit from another realm.

The couples two-stepped, obscuring his vision, then marched. Lewis lurched into motion, heading for the door. By the time the dancers performed a moulinet, Ellie had disappeared. Where was she? There—in the foyer. Pacing the carpet, her hands clasped.

Lewis stopped in front of her. “I’ve been hoping you’d come.” When she raised her wide eyes to him, the breath left his chest. He found enough to speak one word. “Beautiful.”

She laughed, but the sound held an edge that raked his nerves.

“I’m serious.”

“And I don’t know why I’m here.” She turned to go.

“Ellie!” His cry stopped her as surely as if he’d grabbed her arm—thankfully, since that would’ve been his next move. “I waited for you in the tea garden. Why didn’t you come?”

“I was unavoidably detained.”

“I’m sorry for that, because I’ve wanted to talk to you ever since I invited you to the ball.” He took a step closer. “I got the sense that you doubted my sincerity. Or that you questioned my reasons. I didn’t express myself well that night. Ellie, I was asking you not out of appreciation for your father, but rather, for you.”

She ducked her head. “That’s what Ada said.”

“She related what I told her. Why have you avoided me?”

Still she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “There were things I was uncertain of.”

“Then come with me now, and we will clear them all up. But first, I need to ask you to make good on your promise of a dance—and not just any dance. The Belleview waltz. I need a partner to dance it on stage with me.”

“On stage?” She gasped.

“Yes. It’s the first act of the magic show. Do you trust me?” He imbued his gaze with all the sincerity he could muster.

She stared back a moment. “If I go in there with you, I will contradict my aunt’s wishes.”

Lewis couldn’t suppress a smile. “That seems a very good reason indeed.” He extended his arm.

She took it with a sly look. Lewis’s hopes soared. After this waltz, after the magic show, he would tell her everything.

As he escorted her through the crowd, the music ended and dancers parted, making way with curious murmurs. The electric lights extinguished, and a collective gasp went up. The gas lamps along the front illuminated the steps. A spotlight found them as they moved to center stage.

Lewis took Ellie’s hand but stepped apart from her as he raised his voice to address the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m Lewis Thornton of Philadelphia, and tonight my lovely partner, Miss Ellie Hastings, will help me begin the evening’s entertainment by dancing the historic Belleview Waltz.”

Oohs, ahs, and a smattering of applause followed. From the periphery, a stout form in burgundy silk placed her hands on her hips. No matter. He’d soon have the woman eating out of his hand.

“Why am I up here, you may ask? Someone dear to me recently told me that I should be myself”—he dared to glance at Ellie—“so tonight I am sharing a secret love of mine.” Now he didn’t dare look at her. “I’m also introducing the man who will bring you an unforgettable evening—my friend, The Great Gaspachi.” Lewis lifted his arm. Confused gazes followed its trajectory.

In a cloud of smoke, Giovani, in his signature scarlet and black, descended from the ceiling on invisible wires. Even Ellie sucked in her breath.

As his feet touched the floor, Giovani removed his top hat and held it with his wand under his arm. He bowed. “Good evening, Hotel Belleview. The benevolence of Lewis Thornton enables me to bring you an evening of magic. As he said, he is more than my patron. He is a dear friend.” He smiled at Lewis. “But first, the Belleview waltz.” He backed to the edge of the stage.

Lewis turned to Ellie, making a frame with his arms. “Shall we?”

“With only several hundred people watching? Naturally.” Her face was the shade of alabaster, but as the music began, she moved with him.

He kept his steps measured and slow, his hands firm. He half feared she’d disappear. “I have missed you. So has Cora.”

Her gaze flashed up to him, eyes wide.

“After this, we must talk.”

“Yes. We must.” Her lips—full and pink—firmed. How would they feel beneath his?

A flash of light and exclamations from the audience forced Lewis’s attention to Giovani’s first illusion. A ghost couple in dated clothing had appeared, waltzing on the far side of the stage. Members of the audience closest to the front retreated with murmurs and stares.

Giovani appeared to guide the couple with his wand. “The Belleview Waltz brings the past to life—this young couple, only just married, from the hotel’s opening season. Do you recognize this tragic lady by her wedding gown? By the jewels at her neck?” He waved his wand, and Ellie stopped dancing as she stared at the glint off what appeared to be diamonds. “Who has heard of her tragic end? Fallen, three stories down, to her death.” He threw his hands up, and the couple disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Ellie tried to pull away, but Lewis held her fast. She would soon catch the gist of the trick, but—

The smoke cleared, and the stage was empty. It wasn’t supposed to be empty. Giovani faced Lewis, horror etched in his every line. A young stagehand gestured from the wings. Lewis hurried to the spot where the necklace was supposed to raise through the floor.

The worker hissed. “It’s gone!”

Murmurs rode through the crowd.

“Are you looking for this?” Ellie came up behind him, and when he turned, she unfastened her fur stole. She removed it to display glittering jewels.

Florence’s cry could be heard throughout the ballroom. “My necklace!” Rushing forward, she almost fell in her haste to mount the steps.

Ellie went to meet her, unclasping the jewels and placing them in her hand. “I told you I would find it, aunt.”

No amplification was needed for her voice. Expressions rapt, silent with expectation, the ball-goers crowded at the foot of the stage. They were getting a show, but it wasn’t the one intended. Giovani gestured rather frantically from the hip, but Lewis remained frozen in place. How had Ellie gotten into the storeroom—into the very safe—without either of their help?

Florence voiced his question. “Where did you find it?”

Ellie raised an eyebrow as she glanced at Giovani, who abruptly tucked his hand behind his back. “Let’s just say I used the same tactics as The Great Gaspachi.”

Lewis addressed the audience in what he hoped was a convincing tone. “The necklace was meant to appear on stage, but it seems Miss Hastings had a trick of her own.”

“Indeed.” The look she sent him could be the second act—slicing him in two.

People began to murmur and whisper.

Florence held up the necklace for them to admire. “Nevertheless, my dear, you made good on your promise. And now, everyone can do likewise. I believe we have some baskets in the back, if our committee members will circulate among the crowd.” She tittered as her beautifully-gowned friends followed her instructions, divesting themselves of their jewels and placing them in the baskets for the hospital drive. “This is wonderful. We are in your debt, Ellie.”

“Really?” Ellie cocked her head.

“Who knows whether that charlatan intended to produce the necklace or not.” She aimed a glare at Giovani. “I’ve half a mind to have him arrested. So…yes. Thank you.”

“If you really mean that, aunt, you can dispatch your debt by reinstating Adam and Maeve. Obviously, they had nothing to do with the theft, and whomever made it a crime for servants to fall in love? Only controlling masters.” Her brow drew down. “And who allowed all this to happen in the first place?” When Ellie swung toward him, her fury nearly took Lewis’s breath. “Only those who think nothing about them.” Her voice broke.

She was right. He hadn’t considered how his elevation of Giovani might cost others. “Ellie, it will all be made right. Your uncle—” He attempted to touch her arm, but she shrugged away.

“I believe you have a check to write, sir.”

Lewis withdrew a rectangular paper from his vest pocket. “You mean this check? Ellie, I’d intended to make the donation all along.”

“And that makes it right?” Ellie looked between him and Florence. “I leave you to clean up the messes you both have made. You are peers, after all. I find I would prefer the company of the servants.”

“Ellie, please—”

Lifting the train of her skirt, she hurried down the steps. Lewis followed, but the crowd closed around her, and he lost her in the crush of people he’d worked so hard to entertain.