a/n Nothing to say except...

I'm sorry? I love you? Don't hate me? I'm borderline nuts and on drugs:)

The plot thickens! Enjoy!

CHAPTER 6

The hallway was a mess. Trinkets from a table were on the floor while the table itself was lying on its side, one of its three legs having been knocked off. The house, however, seemed to be deserted. Not a sound, other than her own footsteps, could be heard. It was almost stiffelling, as if damp summer heat had settled into the house, although the weather outside was bitterly cold. To her left, a door stood ajar. She glanced inside.

Lying spread-eagled on his back on the floor was her husband. His coat had been tossed onto the winged back of a chair in front of the fire and a bottle of expensive brandy was clutched in his left hand. His blond hair fanned around his head, which was tilted off to the side. Blood was flowing from his open mouth, staining his hair and the carpet. It would be dreadful to clean, she thought, as she wrapped his fingers more firmly around the trigger. Hopefully, though, she would be gone before they found him...

His eyes opened and he stared at her for a moment before he said, "Why did you kill me?"

She did not hesitate in her answer. "You deserved to die after what you put me though."

He sat up, pulling his knees up so that he could rest his elbows on them, he peered up at her. "Did you remember to go to confession, at least?"

"What do you take me for?" She straightened up, scowling. "Of course I did."

"Of course." He lay back, making sure to fan his hair out again before he closed his eyes. As she turned to go, he called out, "What did he say?"

"Who?"

"The priest. What did he say, Katie?"

She started to answer, then frowned again, turning to look back at him. "What did you call me?"

His eyes opened and he pulled his already grotesque mouth into a sneer. "Katie, Katie, Katie," he said in a singsong voice. "Little Katie."

"Stop it."

"Katie, Katie, she went to confession. Katie, Katie, she moved to a whorehouse."

"Stop it, right this second!"

"Katie, Katie, goes out with a fag. Katie, Katie, the opera house mouse..."

"Katie?"

"Stupid whore." He pounded his fists on the floor as he laughed at her.

"Katie!"

"Raoul, stop!"

"Katrin! Wake up!"

Sitting bolt upright, Christine felt as if she were going to be sick. She had to work to remember where she was.

"Katie! You're going to be late!"

It wasn't Raoul, and she wasn't at her house of pain in Paris anymore. She was in her apartment in an opera house in London and Zinaida Belogorov, the prima ballerina, was banging on her door.

"I'm coming, Zina!" Scrambling out of bed, Christine dressed hurriedly, barely managing to do up her corset before throwing on a white muslin dress with red trim and tying her hair back with a red ribbon. She pinched her pale cheeks and smeared a bit of rouge onto her lips, quickly powdering her shiny face and popping a mint from a tray into her mouth.

Throwing the door open, she was face to face with Zina. The other woman was already dressed, her long, blond hair tied back. Zina smiled, cocking her head off to the side before saying in her thick Russian accent, "Sorry, did I wake you?"

Christine rolled her eyes. "I was just thinking of what to wear tonight."

Zina squealed and clapped her hands together. If there was any way to distract Zina, is was to bring up a party. The midsummer gala being thrown that night at the opera house was to be a massive event. The ballet would be performing, as well as Zina dancing a solo dance. The prima donna, Donata Castillo, would be performing a solo, as would Armando Henriques, the lead tenor. Christine was to sing a duet from The Magic Flute with Ezekiel Lewis, the lead baritone, and the pair of them would be reviving their trio from their last Mozart opera. The latter, she was excited about. Hearing Donata's dramatics before hand, however, would not be the highlight of her evening. The diva was much more tolerable than Carlotta had been, but she had been known to "faint" in times of great stress. Archie informed her that he had heard her practicing her fainting spells one night and that, since then, he had not been so gracious to her.

Christine and Zina had reached the bottom of the stairs and were working their way through the throng of people backstage before Zina seemed to stop for breath.

"Isn't it exciting, Katie?" She took Christine's hand, pulling her forward. "I will be going unaccompanied, of course, but you—you get to go with Mr. Palmer! He is so very handsome, don't you think?"

Christine smiled happily. "Oh, yes," she said cheerily. "I consider myself lucky that he continues to spend so much time with me."

"He seems so attentive," Zina said. "So when are you going to tell me..." She winked.

Christine tossed her hair in a teasingly haughty manner. "I," she said regally, "am a lady, and a lady never tells her secrets."

Christine and Archie Palmer had been doing wonderfully in keeping up the charade that they were a happy young couple, head over heals in love with each other. Most of London society felt envy for Archie at having landed such a beauty. What the didn't know was that "Mr. Palmer and his Katie" were more like a brother and sister than anything. The time spent at his elaborate townhouse was usually spent playing card games, telling jokes, and cooking. Christine had been surprised to find that Archie was a fine cook who enjoyed making delectable meals for them to share. They often teased each other about the rumors flying around the opera house, everything from that they were getting married to they were involved in a passionate sexual play that had left Christine pregnant.

Still smiling with the joy of her true secret, Christine waved as she walked onto the stage with Zina. Archie saw her and trotted over, wrapping his arms around her and spinning her about. She laughed happily and he kissed her cheek before putting her back down. Before she could say anything, there was a dull thump from the front of the stage and a sharp upswing in the noise. Looking over, Christine rolled her eyes as she saw that Donata was in the middle of her dramatic fainting spells. Archie promptly excused himself, acting as if he hadn't heard her hit the floor, and snuck out the back. Christine snorted as he pulled his hat down lower so no one would see him.

The tenor, Armando, stepped over to to Zina and Christine, barely hiding the smile on his face. "We may speak in French, please?"

Christine nodded, knowing what was coming. The same exchange always happened in French, which Armando spoke better than English, and which surprisingly few of the cast spoke.

"How long?" he asked.

"I'm going to say..." Christine looked over at Donata. "Ten minutes."

"Fifteen."

"How much?"

"Five shillings?"

Discretely, they shook hands and each passed their money to Zina, who hid it in her pockets. Zina took Armando's pocket watch, and the trio of them turned to watch Donata while her maid fluttering about wildly, trying to find smelling salts to revive her. No one understood them as the three of them chattered away in French about their usual "How Long Donata Will Stay Down" bet. The odds were currently on Christine, who had been right the last two times, but Armando thought it was his turn, since no one could make such a guess three times in a row and be correct all three times.

Nine minutes after she had gone down, Donata suddenly sat up, looking dazed and confused. Seeming to forget where she was, Donata asked, in her native Italian, for a glass of water. When no one understood, she looked around, seemed to remember where she was, and switched to English.

"She's such an actress," Zina said dryly as she slid her hand into Christine's pocket, letting ten shillings fall in, while Armando shook his head in disbelief.

"How you do it," he muttered, "I'll never know."

With Donata revived, rehearsals for that night finally began. At the request of their musical director, Christine, Donata, and the bass, Ezekiel, took center stage. Donata took her time getting there, taking a long drink of water. She took so long, in fact, that Ezekiel took it upon himself to begin a round of "Sumer is Icumen In," which, although Christine found nearly impossible to understand due to the old English lyrics, made her laugh. She sang along as best she could and Donata rolled her eyes as the pair of them roped in Armando, Zina, and a few chorus members. Even Archie poked his head out to join in the fun. Within minutes, the stage was mayhem until Mr. Hartwell appeared, laughing, but insisting that they all get to work.

"There's a lot to do before tonight," he said cheerily. "Lets get to work, everyone." He winked at Ezekiel, leaning in to say quietly, "Sounded very good, though."

Zeke took a deep, exaggerated bow, taking Christine's hand and pulling her into a curtsy. "Katie here was my partner in crime."

"As usual," Hartwell said, laughing so that his belly jiggled a bit. Glancing down at his watch, his eyes widened. "Off to work, everyone!" he called.

Before Donata had made her way over, Zeke quickly spun Christine, dipping her nearly to the floor, before pulling her back up. He set her on her feet again and the pair of them quickly did their best to look as though nothing had happened as Donata glared at them. Christine settled herself on Zeke's left, while Donata was on his right, and they began their trio. Christine was a bit surprised when they made it all the way through without the conductor, Herr Biermann, stopping them and yelling about one thing or another that someone was doing wrong. When they were done, Zeke and Christine left the stage so that Donata could sing her solo.

When rehearsal was over three hours later, Christine made her way offstage to where Archie was standing, waiting for her.

"Would you care for lunch?" he asked, taking her hand and tucking it under his arm.

Christine smiled. "I would love to."

Archie smiled. As they made their way down the front steps of the opera house and into the busy street, Archie asked, "Are you ready for tonight?"

Christine smiled. "I know all my music and I have the most lovely dress—it's gold and made of silk. It's so cool, I can't see myself getting overheated and fainting."

"Oh, I'm sure someone will faint tonight."

"Yes, she always does."

The pair of them laughed about Donata all the way to their favorite cafe. Once they were seated and munching on sandwiches, Archie switched the subject back to the ball.

"I have a friend coming in," he said excitedly. "He doesn't really think I've landed myself a girl, see. I want to introduce you." His eyes twinkled. "I think you'd like him."

Christine smiled. This wasn't the first time Archie had tried to set her up with a friend of his. She suspected he felt guilty for her lack of a romantic relationship with a man, but she was happier without one. It was refreshing to be in the company of a man who did not expect sex, children, or both, from her. She humored him, however, as she usually did. "I'll be happy to meet your friend, mister..."

"Baron," Archie corrected. "Baron McLeod, or Edinburgh."

Christine thought the name sounded familiar. "McLeod," she muttered, racking her brains. "Why does that..." She trailed off, frowning. "Baron McLeod, the architect?"

"The very same." Archie looked pleased that she knew the name. "You've met him?"

Christine made a face. "Of course not, but who hasn't heard of the man?"

Archie frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He's notorious!" Christine shook her head. "Absolutely not."

"Notorious for what?"

"For God's sake, Archie, how long have you known him?"

"Since he came to Britain several years ago."

"How many women have you seen him with in all that time?" Archie's lack of answer said enough for Christine. "You see? I heard that last count the man had five mistresses, none of whom he wanted around for anything other than sex!" She shook her head. "That's not for me."

"Well that was before his attack," Archie said desperately.

"His attack?"

Nodding, Archie said quickly, "He had a heart attack and an epiphany! He's pretty much given up on women, you see."

"I'm sure," she said dryly.

"Listen, he's coming to the ball tonight—said something about never wanting to go to the opera again. Just meet him, and—"

"Do you want to go to the ball alone?" she asked darkly. Archie shook his head. "Then drop it. I'm not meeting that man."

Archie sighed, but resolved to see to it that they at least caught a glance of each other from across the room.

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"Can't you get it any tighter?"

"If I get it any tighter, you'll pop out!"

"I'm trying to. Not all of us have handsome investors to go with."

"Here maybe if you just do this—"

"Ouch!"

"I'm sorry, but you want to pop out! I'm trying to make that possible."

"You don't have to break my back, you know!"

"Stop being so whiny—we're women, we do this all the time."

"Jesus, Katie, I can hardly breathe!"

"At least look at yourself before you decide to kill me. God, you're going to fall out!"

"That's the idea." Adjusting herself, Zina exhaled as best she could. "Wow." Turning sideways, she examined herself in the mirror. "Look at them! They look huge!"

Christine smiled wryly. "That's what you wanted."

"They've never looked so big before! How do you do that?"

Christine shrugged, not mentioning Jezebel's and that the entire point of getting dressed to go out had been making your breasts look as large as possible. "Can you do me, please?"

Zina began to tie up Christine's white corset. "Have you heard anything about that Scotsman, Baron McLeod, coming tonight?"

"Why?" Christine frowned. "You're not honestly thinking what I think you're thinking?"

"What?" Zina finished tying Christine corset and held out her dress to help her in. "He's rich, and I have expensive tastes. I could be good for him."

Christine rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Zina, you could do better than that."

"Better than a man who can afford to have six mistresses at once?"

"I thought it was five."

"That's not the point. Jesus, Katie, the man's a walking bank!"

"Do what you want." Christine looked at herself in the mirror. "Does my hair look alright?"

"Lovely." Zina looked at herself. Her red dress hugged her figure dangerously, showing off every bit of her seductive curves. "How do I look?"

"You'll give the man another heart attack if he sees you."

"You mean when he sees me." Zina did a little twirl. "And if he's not interested, I'm sure I'll find someone who is."

"I'm sure you will."

a/n And after all that time, a cliffhanger. Sorry, all! My shrink says writing this stuff is a good way to spend me-time, so hopefully I'll be writing more often. Keeps me sane, and all. Leave reviews, lots of lovely reviews!