He nodded. “Good.”
“Oh.” She read further, “…at Christ Church, Bitby.” She thought for a moment. “Where is Bitby?”
“That is where I lived in The Bachelor’s…,”
“…Dilemma. How could I have forgotten?” She chuckled and read further. “…Service presided over by the Reverend Henry Plantagenet? Witnessed by Sir John Falstaff and Robin Hood?”
“The property master had a sense of humor. Just sign here.”
Still chuckling, she carefully signed her name.
He studied the document. “I’ll catch my landlord tonight, when it is dark and he doesn’t have his spectacles. He’ll have a quick look, then I’ll bury this.”
Still chuckling, Katherine returned to her suitcase and unpacked her nightdress. She looked at the one large bed and froze like a pillar of salt. Blushing like a beet, she rolled the nightdress into a ball. “I’ve been sleeping on the floor. I’m very used to it. I wouldn’t mind at all, if you preferred to…,”
“I didn’t bring you here just to put you back on the floor. The bed is plenty large enough for us both. You needn’t worry that I will try to molest you.” He folded the marriage license, and raised an eyebrow. “I am rather worried that you will molest me.”
Eyes bulging and cheeks burning, she sped to the bed and tucked her nightdress under a pillow. “I’ve only been with one man--just Simon--and that was only to keep him in the act.”
He burst out laughing. “You slept with him to keep him in the act?”
“He stayed an entire year longer.”
"How old were you?"
"Oh, I was of age: sixteen. I'm almost twenty, now."
Her story was hilarious, but he choked back a laugh. “I’m famished. Let us get a bite.”
“I hate your paying for everything.” She started toward the kitchen corner. “At least let me fix something.”
“There is no food in the flat. We can go to the shops tomorrow. Come along.” He held out his hand.
She stepped to take it, then flung her arms around him. He stood stiff as granite, and she quickly let go. “I’m sorry. I’m just so grateful.” She stood back, breathing hard. “I know you’re only doing this for Simon, but he never expected…,”
“I am not doing it for Simon, silly twit. I am doing it for you. You are a very special talent and I will not let the world lose a potentially brilliant actress, because she cannot pay the rent.”
She smiled, then closed her suitcase and pushed it under the bed.
He watched thoughtfully. “Katie love, I think we can be very cozy together, you and I, as long as you do not expect me to be another Simon.”
She gasped “I don’t. I promise. Growing up as I did, I have always known men who partnered with other men.”
“Good. I trust you mean that. Just, don’t fall in love with me. I will break your heart.” She stared at the floor and he felt miserable. She was already in love with him. He seized their coats. “Come along, I’m hungry.”
They ate a quiet supper at the corner pub. After a few false starts, they found themselves speaking comfortably. Jeremy never talked about his family and Katherine guessed it was a painful topic. He loved hearing her family history, with Simon Camden. He had never seen her as relaxed and happy, remembering the hard times and good times they all shared, dancing on the Variety circuit.
They were both exhausted when they returned to the flat. Behind the house were two toilets, but no other private space. Neither of them spoke their fears of sharing the bed, but Katherine seized her nightdress from under the pillow and sneaked into the dark kitchen corner. The second her back was turned, Jeremy dived into a nightshirt, leapt into bed, pulled the covers high, and pretended to read a book. Katherine returned, covered from neck to ankle in faded pink flannel. Her golden hair fell around her face, and she looked like a child. Smiling anxiously, she scurried into the empty side of the bed, pulled the covers high, and hovered on the edge of the mattress.
He said, “Good night. Sleep well.”
She forced a whisper. “Thank you. Good night.”
He blew out his candle and the room went dark. The dull beam from a street lamp slipped through the curtains. He could see her lying stiff as a pillar. He rolled onto his side, so his back faced her. He waited -- nothing -- she didn’t move.
He spoke as kindly as possible. “If you dangle on a precipice, you are liable to fall off.”
“I’m fine.” She still did not move.
Without thinking, he reached his arms around her, and drew her into the center of the bed. “There. Now we can both get some sleep.” He kissed her forehead.
“Thanks, I- I’m so grateful…”
“You have thanked me enough. Now, go - to - sleep.” He gave her a cuddle, snuggled his back against her front, and lay still. She kissed his ear. It tickled and he chuckled. Finally, she snuggled against him and closed her eyes.
Chapter Five
Very quickly, the fake Mr. and Mrs. Jeremy O’Connell became comfortable roommates. They had an identical sense of humor and got along really well. Katherine borrowed a wedding ring from wardrobe and wore it with silly pride.
Both actors and stagehands were flabbergasted. Unmarried theatre people often invented lies so they could live together, but no one expected it of the gorgeous, flamboyant Jeremy O’Connell. Most of the women and some of the men were blatantly jealous.
Tommy Quinn hauled Jeremy into their dressing room and slammed the door. “Bloody Hell, Jerry! Where are we going to go? Is that sniveling girl going to stay away all night so we can have privacy?”
Jeremy whispered through a clenched jaw, “That ‘sniveling girl’ has more courage than the lot of us Nancy Boys. I begged you to live with me, but you refused. You wanted to be near Neil and the other cuddlies. You’ve got a whole house. You know I’ll come to you.”
“Maybe I won’t want you to come to me.” Tommy pouted like a spoiled child. “Maybe I’ll invite Archibald Perry instead. He’s been dying to get into my knickers.”
“That slimy slag?” Jeremy laughed. “That aging fop is dying to get into my knickers, and thinks you’re the back door. I only tolerate the pompous ass because he writes me good reviews. His daily tabloid crap isn’t worth…,”
“Archie has a huge following.”
“Yes, of frustrated shop girls and lonely spinsters.”
“They buy a lot of papers.”
“Bloody hell, Tommy! Nothing needs alter between us.”
“But, the house is a shambles.”
“The house would be magnificent, if you lot would just tidy it.”
“Damn you, Jerry! You’re nothing but a buggering piece of slime. You…” Screaming like a banshee, Tommy lashed out with every foul word in his vocabulary. If Jeremy didn’t silence him, someone would break down the door. He jammed Tommy against the wall, kissed him, and rubbed him, hard. Tommy’s screams shrunk to soft moans.
Jeremy pushed away. “Damn it, Tommy. You’re behaving like a lunatic and turning me into one, as well.” Tommy’s crooked tooth had jabbed Jeremy’s lip. He checked his reflection in the mirror. "Good, there's no blood."
The call-boy’s strained soprano rang through the door. “‘alf ‘hour, gents.”
“Thanks Danny.” Jeremy sat at his dressing table, and started to make-up.
Tommy sniffled, “I love you, Jerry. I can’t help it.”
“Shh,” he whispered, “I love you too, silly sod.”
Tommy pouted. “Why can’t I borrow a wedding ring and pretend I’m your…,”
Jeremy laughed sadly, “Do shut up, and get ready for the play.”
*
Katherine and Jeremy made a strikingly handsome couple. Jeremy towered over nearly everyone as he gracefully wove along busy walkways. Katherine, fair and lithe, looked absolutely stunning, walking on his arm. The tilted brim of her hat rested just under his chin, allowing them to pose effortlessly, and enjoy the admiration of other pedestrians. Everyday vi
sits to shops, exhibits, parks, and walks to the theatre seemed like special fun. Holding hands or walking arm-in-arm, chatting and laughing, they were a picture perfect young couple in love.
Every night, after the show, they had a meal with friends. After that, Katherine went home and Jeremy went to his cuddlies. However annoying Tommy could be, he brilliantly met Jeremy’s physical needs. At any hour of the day or night, Tommy was ready to provide dazzling sexual pleasure.
Thanks to Jeremy's kindness, Katherine was sure of a warm bed, and enough to eat. Stage-door Johnnies constantly courted her, and she accepted a few invitations. Every time a man bought her a meal, he expected sexual favors in return. Every time she refused, the man was furious. The last time she refused to sleep with a casual acquaintance; he slapped her down and left her in the street. After that, she politely refused all invitations. She enjoyed quiet hours alone, writing letters, cleaning the flat, washing and mending their clothes. Someday, she hoped to pay Jeremy back. She owed him so much. For the moment, she was content pretending to be his good little wife.
Chapter Six
December 1889
Henry V finally opened and Jeremy’s reviews were excellent. Unfortunately, he was considered just one of many fine repertory actors. The only extraordinary praise came from prissily-clad, heavily lip-rouged theatre critic and tabloid journalist, Archibald Perry.
Obsessed with Jeremy and longing to win his sexual favor, Archie left gifts at the stage-door. He often followed Jerry and his friends into restaurants, and picked up their tabs. When gifts, free meals, and endless flattery failed to win Jeremy’s affection, Archie suggested a series of newspaper articles. Jeremy loved that idea and granted him interviews, in very public places. Guessing Jeremy was not actually married, Archie titillated his female readers: one day suggesting that the handsome young actor was a devoted husband, and the next day implying that he was still an eligible bachelor. The tabloid sheets sold out as soon as they were distributed. Fan mail poured into the stage-door and Henry V sold out. David Tyler was delighted. Katherine enjoyed playing the celebrity wife, standing proudly by, as strangers stopped her “husband,” and asked for autographs.
Archie was still ignored, and angry. He had made Jeremy into a star. He expected compensation.
One freezing predawn, Tommy, Neil, and Jeremy stumbled out of a private club onto a dimly lit street. Shivering with cold, laughing drunk, their breath thick as frozen smoke, they burst into a raucous:
“Hail, hail, the gang’s all here!
What the hell do we care?
What the hell do we care…?”
Two tired Bobbies turned a corner and slowly walked toward them. Before Jeremy could warn Tommy, he pressed Neil against the wall and kissed him on the mouth. The Bobbies doubled their speed.
“Oi, there! Wha’s this, then?” Tommy and Neil lurched apart, suddenly sober, and terrified. The Bobbies placed themselves on either side, blocking their escape. “All right, you lot. Magistrate will deal with you in the morning.” They pulled manacles from their belts, cuffed Tommy, then Neil.
Before Jeremy knew what was happening, one of the Bobbies swung him around and slammed iron cuffs onto his wrists. Wincing with pain, he stared at Tommy struggling to get loose, and Neil collapsed onto the pavement, crying.
The second Bobby sneered with disgust and pulled Neil to his feet. “Bloody pervert. Hope the magistrate locks you up for a long time. The streets are cleaner without you scum.”
Tommy stooped low, watching for a chance to bolt. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Wai’ a minute.” The first Bobbie pushed his nightstick under Jeremy’s chin, and forced his face into the harsh beam of a streetlight. “I know you.”
Tommy yelled, “We’re actors, damn it. You know all of us.”
The Bobby stared. “Why, it’s Mr. O’Connell, righ’? Watcha doin’ with these pieces of filth then, when y’ go’ that pretty little wife waitin’ at ‘ome, eh?” He lowered his nightstick and raised an eyebrow.
Jeremy stood frozen with fear. His wrists and shoulders throbbed and his chin stung. The Bobby looked to his partner, gave a wink, and unlocked Jeremy’s handcuffs. He heaved a sigh of relief, rubbed his chafed wrists, and waited for them to release Tommy and Neil.
Instead, the Bobby nudged him with his nightstick. “Go ‘ome to yer missus. From now on though, mind the company y’ keep.”
Tommy’s face was defiant. Neil pleaded for help, but Jeremy could do nothing for either one. He hesitated just a moment longer, then ran for his life.
Tommy lurched after him and the Bobby grabbed his arms, wrenching them upwards. “None o’ that now.”
Jeremy reached a dark alley, hid from view, and looked back. Other club patrons had gathered around.
“Nothin’ to see ‘ere. Be about yer business.” The Bobbies pulled Tommy and Neil through the crowd. “Come on you lot.”
After the crowd dispersed, tabloid journalist Archibald Perry stood alone in the alley. A grim smile spread his disgustingly rouged lips. Jeremy’s knees gave way and he slumped back against a cold brick wall. Tonight, for the first time in weeks, Archie smiled.
Katherine woke when the door to the flat opened, slammed shut, and locked. “Jerry? What are you doing? ...Jerry?”
Frozen with fear, he stood pressed against the back of the door. A match sputtered and flamed as she lit a candle at her bedside.
“What’s happened? Are you injured?” She hurried to him.
He gasped for breath. “Tommy and Neil were arrested. Damn Tommy! I cautioned him a hundred times. We were drunk. He kissed Neil right in front of two coppers.”
“Oh, no. What will happen to them?”
“Maximum sentence for gross indecency is two years at hard labor. Thank God they were only kissing. They should get off with much less. Upper-class men aren’t fit enough to survive two years…” He broke into quiet sobs.
Katherine stayed calm. “Are you in danger?”
He shook his head. “One of the coppers knew me. He thinks I’m married.” He clung to her, holding on for dear life. Remembering all the times she embraced him and he barely tolerated her, he felt ashamed to need her so completely.
Calm and controlled, she brewed him a cup of strong, very sweet tea, made him undress, and get into bed. She held him until he fell asleep.
Five hours later, disguised as a skivvy, Katherine sat with other pitiable men and women enjoying free warmth and entertainment in the gallery of the Court of Petty Sessions. She raced home and told him about the trial.
*
Two white-wigged, black-robed magistrates listened, as two exhausted Bobbies described Tommy and Neil performing an indecent act on a public street. Tommy pleaded guilty. Neil pleaded not guilty, insisting that Tommy assaulted him. Tommy did not react to the accusation, so Katherine guessed the two had planned Neil’s defense. The Bobbies could not swear that Neil was lying, and he was released with a caution.
Without a look back, Neil sped from the courtroom, and London. A day later, he sent a letter saying he was sailing for Boston.
The magistrates conferred for only a minute before turning back to Tommy. One spoke. “Thomas Quinn, we esteem yours to be a light offense with grave cause for concern. Indecent behavior in any degree must be regarded as a threat to the entire moral structure of the empire. As such, we remand you to Reading Gaol for a term of five months at hard labor.”
Katherine slid from the courtroom and hurried home.
*
All that day Jeremy stayed in the flat. Katherine bought the morning and midday papers, but there was nothing about Tommy or Neil. He waited until the last possible moment, then stuck close to Katherine, and hurried to the theatre. As they approached the Strand, a paperboy shouted, “‘Actor Jailed!’ Get cher paper here.”
The next corner was Norfolk Street. A different paper boy waved his sheet. “‘Actor Jeremy O’Connell -- friend of Tommy Quinn: Prince Hal or Prince Pouf?’… Buy a paper, mi
ster?” Jeremy’s face went gray. He lowered his head and plowed on.
Almost at Howard Street, they heard, “‘Scandal at the Strand Theatre!’” A woman bought the paper. “Yes, madam, ‘ere y’ are.”
Jeremy clutched Katherine’s hand, and raced for the stage-door. A heckler recognized him. “Bloody pouf! You should be in jail with yer mates!”
A woman called, “Hiding behind a woman’s skirt, are y’? Is that the kind o’ man y’ are?”
Katherine froze. Jeremy put a protective arm around her, glanced back, and saw Archibald Perry hand each of the hecklers a coin.
The next few days, Jeremy stuck to Katherine like glue. Dreadfully guilty that he was walking free, while terrified he would be found out and pitched into jail with Tommy, he played the ideal husband, staying home every night. At first he missed his friends. Soon, he was enjoying his long nights with Katherine. Lounging in dressing gowns and sipping wine, they shared theatre stories, and read plays aloud.
Jeremy had had a formal education. He was nearly fluent in Greek and Latin. Katherine eagerly listened to his explanations of myths and other references used by great playwrights. She had a quick mind and peppered him with questions. By the end of the second week, he was hurrying her home so they could study late into the night. They developed insights for the classic characters they hoped to play, and Jeremy suddenly longed to produce his own plays. He wanted to control everything on-stage and backstage. His fondness for Katherine grew into respect, then admiration.
Katherine’s skills as an actress improved so quickly, her first performance as Titania was better than the veteran actress she understudied. When Jeremy told her, she was ecstatic.
Living on top of each other, in one-and-a-half rooms, made physical modesty impossible. Jeremy loved looking at Katherine’s body. He adored her beautiful legs, tight little bottom, and firm breasts. One night they changed into their night clothes, and he made the mistake of saying, “Someone should sculpt you, Katie. Your shape is absolutely perfect.”
Not From the Stars (His Majesty's Theatre Book 1) Page 3
