Clockwork Phantom

Chapter 1-1

1

Théâtre Bohème, Paris, 1 December 1870

Screams were not uncommon at the Théâtre Bohème, mostly because on stage, one was expected to express emotions in an exaggerated way for the benefit of the audience. But the scream that sliced through the usual midday din of the theatre held a note of pure terror, and Marie nearly dropped the costume she held up for the examination of modiste Madame Beaufort.

“Sacre bleu,” Madame said. “What could that have been?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll check it out,” Marie answered. “I’ll let you know if the Prussians are upon us.” She handed the dress to Madame and lifted her own skirts to make her way through narrow hallways from the costume room to the theatre itself.

Now shouting echoed through the wooden and brick hallways.

“I will not go forward with this!”

Marie recognized the slightly nasal but resonant female voice as Corinne, her mother’s go-to lead after Marie had left. She had become quite the premiere femme while Marie was away, but rather than sounding snobbish, her tone held an edge of panic.

“You must. The first performance is next week, and I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

And that was Marie’s mother, Madame Lucille St. Jean. Marie took a shortcut through a secret passage, which allowed the sound to carry. She emerged in the theatre to see the two women almost nose-to-nose.

“What’s wrong?” Marie asked before she could stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. “You two do realize others are trying to work here.”

“Oh, Mademoiselle.” Corinne’s face melted into a mask of tragedy. “I saw a ghost backstage. It raised its finger at me to tell me I am doomed. I must get away from here!”

Lucille looked at Marie. “What are you doing here? I have told you that if you refuse to take the stage, you do not belong in the theatre. Go back to helping Madame Beaufort with her pins and pinches.”

Marie ignored Lucille. This is the most interesting thing that’s happened since I returned. “What did the ghost look like?”

“He was tall and thin, and his hand looked like a skeleton’s. He wore a long robe, and I could not see his face. He was Death come for me!” She placed the back of her hand on her forehead and swooned.

“Actresses.” Marie sighed. Two stage hands came and picked Corinne up from the floor—she’d pulled the fainting trick before, but this time she didn’t jump up with protestations at the “filthy peasants’” hands being on her.

“Well?” Lucille asked, apparently forgetting she’d banished Marie. “What are we to do now? I have a play with no lead actress and apparently a ghost has taken up residence in the theatre.”

“Not my problem.” Marie turned to go, but her mother grabbed her arm with surprising strength.

Lucille switched to English and lowered her voice, both signs she didn’t want the workers and other actors to hear and understand what she was going to say to her daughter. Since the American “Civil” War had become a proxy war between England and France, not knowing English had become a point of pride among the common folk, particularly as the hard consonants and flat vowels sounded a lot like Prussian, spoken by the invaders who massed outside the city.

“And ’ave you forgotten that I am housing you and your friends for free?” she snarled in Marie’s ear.

“And have you forgotten we’re trying to help replace the faulty gas lighting system?” Marie snapped back. “You can’t have a performance without light.”

“The professor isn’t proceeding as I’d hoped.” Lucille’s eyes glittered as the gas lights subsided and then flamed back to light. “I doubt he will have anything installed in time for dress rehearsals, and I am not sure I want to try the holiday play with an untested system.”

Marie couldn’t argue. “Science takes time,” she said, echoing Professor Edward Bailey’s oft-repeated sentiments. But she’d watched him in the laboratory they set up in a room at the top of the apartment building. The space itself received a lot of illumination, but the scientist within didn’t seem to. Seemingly mesmerized by the isolated drop of aether within the glass globe, he would only sit and stare at his equipment. Inventor Patrick O’Connell proceeded better with developing the actual aether lighting equipment, but without the substance itself in usable form, the system would be useless.

“I cannot support you if we do not have a performance. We cannot have a performance without a leading actress. You are her understudy. Therefore, you must take the stage again.” Lucille punctuated that last statement with a finger held up in triumph.

“The only reason I accepted the understudy role was because I knew there was no way Corinne would back out. She may still do it.” Marie looked to where the actress had been set, but—uncharacteristic for her—Corinne had left quietly and without any kind of announcement. “Merde, she really was frightened.”

“Congratulations, Henriette,” Lucille said. “You have tonight to memorize your lines. Rehearsals start for you tomorrow. Now Gerard, let’s get back to the scene in the graveyard. I’ll stand in for Marie as Henriette today.”