Prima Donna by Megan Chance pptx

I heard footsteps in the hallwayoutside the door, and in a panic I lifted my hands from thewater in the basin, dark red now, more blood than water, andgrabbed the towel, pressing it hard

P R I M A D O N NA

A N O V E L

M e g a n C h a n c e

This is a work of fiction Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used

fictitiously Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2009 by Megan Chance All rights reserved

Published in the United States by Three Rivers Press,

an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group,

a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

www.crownpublishing.com Three Rivers Press and the Tugboat design are registered

trademarks of Random House, Inc

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Chance, Megan.

Prima donna: a novel / Megan Chance — 1st trade paperback ed.

p cm.

1 Singers—Fiction 2 Brothels—Fiction 3 Seattle (Wash.)—

History—19th century—Fiction 4 Psychological fiction I Title.

PS3553.H2663P75 2009 813'.54—dc22 2009018553

i s b n 978-0-307-46101-8

Printed in the United States of America

d e s i g n by b a r ba r a s t u r m a n

2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1 First Edition

visit one of these online retailers:

Et que peux-tu pour moi?

(Well, what can you do for me?)

—Faust , Charles Gounod; libretto by Jules

Barbier and Michel Carré; act I, scene 2

—Faust , Charles Gounod; libretto by Jules

Barbier and Michel Carré; act III, scene 8

p r o l o g u e

New York City—August 1877

Behind me, I heard his gurgling, choking breath, the sound

of him drowning on his own blood, and then, suddenly, itstopped altogether

I didn’t dare turn to look I heard footsteps in the hallwayoutside the door, and in a panic I lifted my hands from thewater in the basin, dark red now, more blood than water, andgrabbed the towel, pressing it hard against my face to stop thebleeding, despite the pain that brought tears to my eyes In thearmoire there was a dark blue wool among the ball gowns ofsilk and lace I had to put the towel aside to put it on, and theblood dripped relentlessly into my eyes My hands shook sohard it took forever to make the buttons go through the hoops

I shoved my stockingless feet into boots and left them toned and looked wildly about, trying to think Money—

unbut-I would need money—but there was none, only my jewels

I grabbed what was on my dressing table, shoving necklacesand rings and brooches into my pockets, and then I yanked on

my cloak, pulling up the hood to hide my loose and tangledhair, and pressed the towel again to my face and went to the

2 M E G A N C H A N C E

door, nearly tripping over his bare feet—such lovely feet, sowell shaped for a man The sight of them startled me anew Iforced myself to look away

Beyond the door, the hallway was silent I stepped out, ing to make no noise There was the elevator, but I didn’t daretake it, not looking like this Instead I took the stairs, the backones for the servants My boot heels clattered on the wood;the stairs were narrow and dim, and I was shaking so badlynow that I wasn’t certain I could make it to the bottom Iheard footsteps below me, and I drew into a darkened cornerand turned my head away to hide my face A steward hurried

try-up the first flight and paused when he saw me “Miss?” heasked, and I motioned roughly for him to go on, mutteringsomething—I hardly knew what—and he hesitated, trying topeer into the dark He could not have seen anything, and hewas in a rush; he didn’t delay

I waited until he had gone by, and then I raced down, as ifspeed alone would keep me from discovery The kitchen,swirling with movement, was on one side of a narrow hall halfobstacled with carts and laundry bags meant for the washroom

on the other side Maids dodged about carrying glasses andlinens; there was no way to avoid them I hesitated and then

I moved quickly and with purpose to the back door

No one stopped me; most simply moved out of my way as

if I were part of the dance of their hurry, and then I was side in the dark alley, past the garbage, running, my unbuttonedboots nearly slipping off with every step I dodged the street-lamps and kept close to the shadows, where no one could see

out-me clearly, if they saw out-me at all The only sound I heard was

my own breath, and with it came the echo of his, the imagesthat flashed before my eyes as if they were happening anew: hishands on my hips, holding me helpless my scream as he’dcut me the knife in my hand, the spurting blood

I did not realize where I’d been going until I was alreadythere Until I’d gone blocks and blocks, until my side hurt and

my whole face was a throbbing stinging ache Past the end warrens and the tenement buildings, until I stood in analley littered with fish bones and trash piles pulsing with rats,potholed with shallow pools of emptied spittoons and cham-ber pots and the dregs of emptied kegs The night was warmand the stink stung my nostrils along with the nauseating smell

dead-of my own blood

I was before the propped-open back door of a beer hall

I heard the music from within, a polka orchestra, and theclanking of pans from the kitchen, shouted orders: “Two fish!”

“Get the spatzel down!” “Kartoffeles! Hurry now!”

I had not stepped foot in the place for years But I hadnowhere else to go I eased through the back door into thestorage room The shadows of stacked kegs filled the neardarkness The kitchen was beyond, men rushing about, theirmovements staccato and strange in the haze of greasy steam.The air was loud with the hiss of frying fish, the clank ofplates, the thump of Herr Meyer’s wooden leg as he moved ef -ficiently about, shouting instructions

They were too busy to notice me, and I was in darknessbesides I had played hide- and- seek among the kegs since I wasvery small, and now I found my way easily through them tothe hallway that opened into the beer hall at one end, to stairs

at the other

The music was louder there, as was the talk The heavypress of smoke and the smell of sweat and beer made medizzy I pressed the towel to my face, and blood seeped from

it, dripping down my hand to my wrist I waited until the hallwas clear and dashed out—up the peeling and scarred blue-painted stairs, not slowing until they turned and I was out ofsight to anyone below Then I paused, waiting for a shout ofdiscovery There was none, thank God, but now I began to feelsick and uncertain The door of the apartment at the top wasclosed, and I did not know who would open it I did notknow what my reception would be

4 M E G A N C H A N C E

I knocked Very quietly at first, and then, when I heardnothing, more loudly I heard footsteps, rapid and light, andthen the door cracked open I saw a blue eye, dark hair, paleskin, a hand reaching around that was red and chapped fromhard work—such a strange contrast on one so pretty

“Willa.” I breathed

She frowned and glanced behind her “Gott im himmel What

are you doing here?”

I threw back the hood “I’ve had a bit of trouble—”

Her eyes grew round with horror “Lieber Gott.” Her voice

was a whisper “Bitte Gott, rette uns.”

In my dismay I pressed the towel harder I felt again thedripping blood and I saw her gaze dart to it in fear “Please

if I could come in There was an accident—”

“Mama?” The voice came from behind her A child’s voice

A plump face peeked around her skirts, and then those blueeyes too widened in horror and fear The child shrieked andburst into tears

“Ssshhh, ssshhh, liebling,” Willa said She bent to take him

into her arms and glared at me She whispered something tohim and closed the door and I heard her steps moving beyond,the muffled sound of her voice, and I was helpless with de-spair

Then the door opened again She stepped into the hallwayand closed the door behind her, looking at me with a gaze sovenomous I stepped back “Where is he?” she demanded.The tears welled so in my eyes that they blurred my vision

I could only shake my head

“How dare you come here! How dare you bring trouble

upon this house! Did you even stop to think what would pen to us?”

hap-“I didn’t know where else to go—”

“What? You mean your patrons and your Four Hundredhave abandoned you?” The sneer in her voice was painful tohear “They can bear the police better than we can, and you

know it This kind of trouble would ruin us Papa’s old now.This would destroy him.”

“Willa, please—”

“You made your choice—did you think you could so easilytake it back?”

“Please I have nowhere else.”

“Go to your Mrs Astor,” she said cruelly She opened thedoor, stepping back inside “Now get out of here before some-one sees you.”

I took a step toward her, reaching into my pocket, pull ing out a necklace, pink diamonds “Please, Willa I can payyou—”

-She recoiled as if I repulsed her “I don’t want your money.You ignore us when you like and now that you’re in troubleyou bring it here Look at you! You’re covered in blood! I have

a child now I can’t help you None of us can For God’s sake,think of us.”

She slammed the door shut I heard the turn of the key inthe lock, and then the muffled cry of a child

I had no memory beyond that Not of going downstairsand past the kitchen, not of the alley outside Suddenly I was

in some dark tangle of buildings and corners somewhere, and

I had no idea where and no idea of where next to go I wasbleeding and in pain and I needed to hide and to escape, buthow to do that now was impossible How had it never oc-curred to me before now that I had no friends? That I hadnothing? My mind was muddy and confused and I saw things

I knew rationally could not be before me His face The ken teapot The knife, still greasy with capon fat

bro-It was very late now The performance would be over.They would find him soon They would come looking for me.Despite the warmth of the night, my hand was frozen where

it clutched the towel to my cheek I crawled into the corner hind an old barrel and pulled my cloak more closely about me

be-I shook with cold all the night through be-I did not sleep

c h a p t e r 1

Seattle, Washington Territory—February 1878

The little restaurant was nearly full I slipped inside, lettingthe heat from the bodies and the kitchen warm me while

my sodden skirts dripped into a puddle on the floor

There was one table in the corner, and I went to it asquickly as I could, trying to ignore the men I passed, trying tohide my fear I sat down, chilled all over again by the wet fab-ric of my dress beneath me and the steady trickle down mycollar from my soaking hat As miserable as it was, at least

I was out of the rain My hands were numb with cold as

I shoved my portmanteau beneath my chair, glanced at thechalkboard menu on the wall, and felt the eye of every man inthe place on me

Warily, with the habit born of months, I checked their interest—anything undue, any recognition There was none ofthat, but another kind of interest instead, and the shipboy’swords came back to me “Best not to go beyond Mill Street after dark, ma’am Them’s the Lava Beds The only women there are well, it ain’t no place for a lady anytime.” I should have known what it

would be like I did know But what other choice had I? This

was the end of the world; there was no place else to run.Twice already I’d nearly been discovered; women like me didnot own jewels of the sort I’d carried, and Pinkerton agentsand cunning reporters seemingly never slept But now thosejewels were gone, all sold, and where else could I go where

no one would expect me to be or try to find me? Where noone would recognize me or care enough about a lone womanwith a terrible scar to ask questions?

An Indian with long black hair that shone oily in the gas light approached He wore a flannel shirt and denim trousers,along with an apron that had once been white but now wasgrayed and stained and filthy He smelled of rotting fish When

-I looked up at him, he spoke to me in that strange Chinookjargon I’d heard from the peddler women and about the streetsand on the steamer, a mix of Indian and English words itseemed everyone here spoke but me “Klatawa Halo mesachie klooshman.”

I stared at him uncomprehendingly, then I sighed der, please.”

“Chow-He glared at me

Clumsily, I opened my purse and pulled out my lasttwenty-five cents with fingers that could barely hold the coins

“I have money I can pay.”

“Halo mesachie klooshman.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He’s sayin’ the owner don’t serve whores.” A man peared over the Indian’s shoulder He had curling dark hairand a ruddy face, and I could tell by his watery eyes and hisslight sway that he was very drunk

ap-“Tell him I just want a bowl of chowder Then I’ll go.Please I’m so hungry Tell him I can pay.”

The man spoke to the Indian in that same language, andthe Indian shook his head violently, gesturing to the door Heyelled “Go!”

The restaurant had grown silent; every man in the place

8 M E G A N C H A N C E

had paused to watch A few rose, as if they meant to help—not

me, but the Indian I grabbed the handle of my portmanteauand left, tripping over my skirts in my haste, pushing by themen who crowded around me to block the door

I ran back into the dark rain, flattening myself against arough wall, sliding down until I sat on the narrow, slipperyboardwalk fronting the building, and people stumbled over meand cursed I closed my eyes and buried my head in my armsuntil my fear quieted

I felt a hand on my shoulder, heavy—too heavy, as if itneeded my support When I looked up I saw the man whohad translated for me in the restaurant Curly dark hair, a miss-ing canine tooth that made his face look lopsided

“Hey, girlie.”

His hand tightened on my shoulder I could only stare

at him

He slurred, “Looks like you could use some warmin’ up

I got a room near here I been lookin’ all night for someone tofuck I guess you’d do as well as any.”

I glanced away, toward the deep mud of the street and thestreetlight, haloing now before my blurring eyes, and the rainpouring down like a gray curtain beyond it, where the menmoved within like spirits Then I turned back to him He fellagainst the wall, squinting, as if he couldn’t quite pin downwhere I was, and I felt a surge of revulsion and, close on itsheels, acceptance Who was I to disdain it now? How smallthe price was really, for warmth and someplace out of therain Well, why not? It’s no different than what you’ve done before.

I didn’t let myself think beyond that I didn’t want tothink “Yes,” I said, and then, desperately, “it’ll cost you twodollars—and a bowl of chowder.”

He smiled “All right then All right, girlie Let’s go I got aroom at Gray’s.”

He helped me to my feet, and once I was up he began totug me after him I said, “The chowder first.”

For a moment he looked mutinous Then he nodded andstaggered back into the restaurant, leaving me to wait He cameout with a steaming bowl and a spoon and a drink he kept forhimself I lifted my veil, dodging a quick glance at him, butthere registered no recognition on his face He’d barely handed

me the bowl before I dove into it where I stood, shoving thechowder into my mouth so quickly that it burned my tongue

I barely tasted it, which was probably a good thing, as the clamsmell was strong and a layer of fat pooled on top, and therewas something mushy and stringy and unpleasant in it

My drunk waited impatiently for me to finish, lodging hisshoulder against the doorway and slinging back his drink.When I was done, he grabbed the bowl from my hand andthrew it into the street, where it broke into pieces that mentrod into the mud He took my arm and jerked me into hisside, wrapping his arm around me as much to keep himselfupright as anything

The boardwalk ended abruptly, and we went into thestreet, which was mobbed with horses and men, dogs andwhores, nightmarish and strange as they moved through thegasping flicker of streetlamps, falling again into darkness thatmoved and shifted with the rain so that few things could beseen and what could didn’t seem quite real

He slipped in the mud, half taking me down with him.When we righted ourselves, he took out a flask, which he un-corked and drank from before he offered it to me, and I didn’trefuse it The whiskey inside was sour tasting and rotgut, but

I took a huge sip and managed to keep from choking

Then we turned the corner, and he said, “There ’tis!” and Ilooked past his swaying, pointing finger to a narrow buildingbuilt up on pilings, like so many of the others in this godfor-saken town I saw movement in the shadows beneath—rats orthieves or murderers or men too drunk to know where thestreet was Men sat upon the sagging boardwalk before it,lolling against the door, which was crooked and barely shut