Till Death Do Us

COUSIN RUDY, WHERE ART THOU?

A few hours later, Phineas found himself pressed into a shadowy doorway, his heart thrumming with anticipation like some skulking holdup artist waiting to pounce on an innocent mark. But Phineas's case, the only thing he wished to steal was a glimpse of Miss Theodosia Boudreaux. He had come to town in search of Cousin Rudy, who had not returned from whatever urgent errand he'd said he had to run earlier. And it was just now, while seeking his cousin, that Phineas had spotted Miss Boudreaux coming down the sloping promenade, pushing an elderly matron in a wheeled chair.

A drop of water splattered on the toe of his boot. Phineas looked up and saw that it had dripped from a dark tendril of grime hanging from the keystone of the arched doorway. He couldn't say precisely why he'd chosen to secret himself here in the damp shadows, rather than continue his search for Cousin Rudy. Surely it was not in his nature to sneak around and surreptitiously spy on attractive young women, and yet Miss Boudreaux clearly possessed the power to make him to act in quite unusual ways.

Pressing his cheek against the cool stone of the doorway, Phineas peeked out. A dozen yards away, Miss Boudreaux looked absolutely resplendent in a dark maroon dress with lace sleeves and gold trim as she navigated the aged dowager along the sloping sidewalk. Phineas held his breath and felt his heart accelerate. He backed deeper into the shadows, praying that neither lady would notice him furtively gazing with unabashed yearning upon the younger of the two. Meanwhile, the pair approached, close enough now for Phineas to overhear the older woman regaling the younger with a story about a long ago voyage the ocean-going liner, Queen Cassiopeia, with someone whose name sounded, oddly, like Clearance.

Even in the filmy sunlight of a typical Gravesend afternoon, it was difficult not to notice the numerous twinkling rings on the elderly woman's fingers, as well as the heavy glimmering necklace draped low around her neck. With a start, Phineas realized that the lady in question wasn't just any elderly matron, but the dowager Philippa de Worthington, richest woman in the territory.

"What a charmer he was," Philippa de Worthington declared ruefully to Theodosia. "What a romantic! What an absolute cad!"

The younger and older ladies burst into conspiratorial cackles. Unfortunately, at that moment Miss Boudreaux also chose to clasp her hands in mirth, thus unintentionally letting go of the wheeled chair, which at once began to roll away on its own down the sloping pavement. For an instant, Phineas was forced to choose whether to do the right thing for Miss Boudreaux – which would be to step out of his hiding place and stop the wayward conveyance carrying the wealthy dowager. Or do the wrong thing for himself -- which would be to step out of his hiding place, stop the wayward conveyance, and reveal the fact that he'd been lurking in the shadows close by.

But fortunately, before the wheeled chair could gain sufficient momentum, it thumped into a carriage stone and came to a halt. Miss Boudreaux caught up an instant later and both ladies shared yet another laugh, though this time one of relief that Philippa de Worthington had not picked up speed and raced unchaperoned down the hill and into the busy intersection beyond.

His heart still pumping from that moment of excitement, as well as from Miss Boudreaux's close proximity, Phineas waited until the pair had passed, then craned his neck around the doorway to see where they were headed. Just a dozen steps down the block, the two had stopped in front of an imposing structure of dark stone and gold flake called The Camelot. Two workmen were busy polishing the brass hardware and scrubbing soot from the stone exterior, the sort of labor performed only at the most opulent of facilities for the elderly and infirm. Phineas watched as Miss Boudreaux kissed the wealthy dowager on both cheeks, then handed her off to a white-uniformed attendant and continued on.

As if unable to exert any will power to the contrary, Phineas found himself following, suddenly loathe to allow this enthralling creature out of his sight. But he was driven by more than just attraction. Indeed, he was desperate to learn more about her, had to find the answer to how someone so lovely could allow herself to fall into the heinous claws of Egon Von Titus-Barr Caldwell. A grievous mistake was being made, but as yet Phineas wasn't sure by whom. Was Miss Boudreaux mistaken in her regard for Von Titus-Barr Caldwell? Or was he, Phineas, mistaken in his regard for her? Was he so blinded by her beautify and apparent charm and grace that he couldn't divine some glaringly obvious (to objective observers, at least) flaw that made her a suitable match for that despicable cur?

Now unslowed by the obligation of steering the wheeled chair, Miss Boudreaux began to stride with purpose down the sidewalk past blackened, grimy buildings, as if she were late for an appointment. Following a few dozen yards behind, Phineas could not help noticing how her thin, shapely ankles swished beneath the hem of the dark maroon dress when she walked, nor the trail of sweetly scented perfume in her wake. Everything about her was so tantalizing, so intoxicating, that he began to feel a slightly dizzy sensation that made it difficult to concentrate.

On the next block, Miss Boudreaux made a left around a corner and vanished from sight. Concerned that he might lose the trail, Phineas quickened his step, but when he turned the corner there was no sign of her. Phineas stopped and stared up and down the store-and-building-lined thoroughfare, eager to catch a glimpse of dark maroon and gold trim somewhere on the promenade. But there was no sign of Miss Theodosia Boudreaux.

Phineas was in the midst of feeling an unexpectedly profound sense of disappointment when he realized he was standing in front of a showplace called the Lux, which billed itself as the premiere bawdy house in all of Gravesend. Looking up at the brightly lit and gaudily decorated marquee, Phineas found himself studying the bold advertising for the scantily clad female performers who plied their scandalous trade within. A startling and profoundly distressing thought came to him: Had the demur and apparently chaste Miss Boudreaux gone into ... this bawdy house?

After quickly perusing the display windows advertising the garishly painted faces and skimpily-clad torsos of the entertainers within, a brief moment of relief flooded through Phineas. He had not identified Miss Boudreaux's visage among those displayed. But still, could there be any other explanation for why she'd so abruptly disappeared from sight? Once again, a chill swept through him as he reminded himself that he barely knew her. Could he have been this badly mistaken about her?

There was only one way to find out.

His face flushed and hot with embarrassment, Phineas stepped up to the ticket booth and paid for admission. He'd never been inside a bawdy house before and dreaded the thought of being recognized. Going through the glass doors he found himself in a dim, candle-lit, smoky antechamber. Cheering, hooting, and the sound of sultry music oozed through the thick maroon curtains that puddled on the opposite side of the lobby. Lining the walls were more framed broad sheets of gaudily painted, scantily clad women. Thankfully, Theodosia Boudreaux was not among those either.

On the quieter side of the maroon curtains Phineas hesitated, telling himself that he must have been mad to have entered a place like this. This was the last thing the Stiffs family needed right now. First, Major Embarrassment as Stiffs Mortuary Mixes Up Bodies of Beloved Mayor and Local Pervert, and now Next Generation of Stiffs Seen Snooping About Bawdy House. And so far as the young woman in question was concerned, he didn't even know if she was really in there. In fact, the more he took in the garishness of the place, the dimness and damp stale odor of smoke, the sleazy music and lewd whistles and cat calls of the audience inside, the more convinced he was that he had to have been mistaken.

Surely someone as lovely of Miss Theodosia Boudreaux could not have possibly entered a place like this, he decided. He'd been mistaken, had jumped to an impulsive and illogical conclusion. There was no point in venturing any deeper into the smutty bowels of this enterprise, and thus, the only option now was to exit posthaste. Phineas was turning to leave when the heavy maroon curtains parted and a portly fellow with a crimson nose and the stub of a cigar clamped between his stained teeth strode out. Suddenly Phineas froze, not at the sight of the man, but because of the glimpse he'd caught of the crowd inside before the curtain closed. Sitting in the last row, with what looked like a coat over his lap, was none other than Cousin Rudy.