Not From the Stars (His Majesty's Theatre Book 1)

by Christina Britton Conroy

She yawned happily. “It’s past my bedtime, but well worth it. I’m delighted you’re here. Nicholas House is so close by, the girls will invite you for tea.”

  “That’s very kind, but will they actually want me?”

  “A handsome young man in a totally female abode -- what could be richer? Good night, Mr. Dennison. Don’t stay too much later yourself. These walls will seem very close at 9:00, when the first children pour in.”

  “I believe you. Good night, Mrs. Carrots.”

  She waved and left.

  It was after midnight when he finished storing all the empty crates high in the exposed roof beams. In a few hours, he would have to pretend to be an art-master. Fifteen wooden easels stood against a wall. He quickly grouped them in a circle, facing the center of the room, and placed high stools behind each. A single stool remained in the center of the room. Studying that stool, he turned it upside down. Four shadows spread on the floor, leaning away from four legs. Shading and perspective. I’ll see what they can do with that.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Two weeks into the term, Elisa woke up famished. She leapt from the bed, washed, dressed, and flew down stairs. Lucy Ann was already pulling on her coat. Now that she was taking classes with young men, Lucy Ann’s hair was pulled back extra tight. She wore a tailored jacket and made a joke of straightening her tie. Elisa laughed, then gritted her teeth in a smile for the new girl, Meredith Locksley. Sixteen, petite, stylishly plump, with silky dark hair and huge eyes, Meredith was enrolled in dramatics. For the past three years, Elisa had been the school’s unchallenged drama queen. Embarrassed by her skinny body, and tensing for competition, Elisa devoured a huge breakfast.

  The day began wonderfully. She received the top mark for reciting a Shakespeare sonnet. Later, she was praised for singing, O! For The Wings of a Dove. That afternoon, after lessons in mathematics and French, she shuffled home, thinking she was wasting her time. She wanted to please Mrs. Carrots, but she would never be clever at math's. Her French was excellent, but Sir John hated to travel, so she would never be allowed to use it. If some other man fell in love with her, he could take her round the world. She sighed sadly. Mrs. Carrots was right. Prince Charming would never charge up on a white horse and carry her away.

  She angrily kicked stones along the dirt path, not caring that she would have to clean her shoes. It was only two o’clock, so there was the added torture of a study hour at her desk, until teatime. She arrived at Nicholas House and found Mrs. Carrots sitting primly at the large parlor table, correcting mathematics homework. Elisa managed a polite if slightly hostile smile. She dragged herself upstairs to her second story room, sat at her study desk, and stared at her school books. A delicious breeze blew in her open window, and she starred out at the lush, inviting woods just a few yards away, beyond the art studio.

  Lucy Ann was still in college. Her class days never seemed to end and Mrs. Carrots scolded her for studying too much. Lucy was content with her plain frocks, her plain hair, and her horrid spectacles. She spent entire days doing math's and cutting up frogs -- with boys.

  Elisa sighed out loud, “Boys like her. I wish they liked me.” She pictured Colin’s handsome face, golden hair, and shining blue eyes. He said that she was sweet, and the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

  Unable to sit still, she grabbed her poetry book, tucked it into her waist band, rolled up her long skirt, and pushed the window curtain aside. The air was deliciously cool as she climbed down the trellis. When she reached the ground, she pulled off her shoes and stockings, and ran barefoot through the moist grass. She hurried past the art studio and followed the curve of the river, until it merged into a tiny stream. Spotting her special bush, she pushed it aside and crawled into a small grotto.

  The thick ground cover was cool and soft. Sunlight dappled brightly through the canopy of leaves. She lay on her back and stretched out across a carpet of heavy moss. Nature’s sweet perfume was intoxicating and she joyfully filled her lungs.

  She opened her poetry book and pictured Colin.

  Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

  Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

  She returned late for tea. Her housemates were already chomping on buttered scones. Mrs. Carrots poured, and gestured to a slip of paper on the table. “Elisa, take that to Mr. Dennison, tomorrow. Your father wishes you to study art.”

  Elisa’s giggled. She would finally be with Colin. Her heart raced with excitement.

  *

  The next afternoon, the 2:00 chapel bell rang, ending Robert’s class for twelve-to-fourteen-year-olds. Eleven girls hung their nearly clean smocks on hooks. The one boy’s smock was filthy, so Robert tossed it into a laundry basket. Unfinished pictures were piled on one table, finished pictures on another, and hopeless attempts were crumpled into a trash bin. Taking shawls and coats off hooks by the door, they hurried out and down the path.

  Robert was exhausted. He seized his fifteen minute break and collapsed into a chair. A plump, saucy twelve-year-old lingered by the door, batting her eyelashes. Robert stifled a laugh. “Good bye, Miss Huntington. I shall see you tomorrow.” The girl sighed and ran to catch up with her friends.

  Robert gratefully closed his eyes. His last class was for the eldest students, sixteen and older. He heard crunching footsteps along the gravel path and groaned. That would be Colin Edwards. He was always the first to arrive. It was a shame the young man had no talent. He really loved to paint.

  Colin walked through the open door, saw Robert slumped in a chair, and stopped. “Oh! Sorry, sir. I’m too early. I’ll just…”

  “It’s all right Edwards.” Robert smiled and stretched. “Time I got ready for you next lot. I’m a bit worn out, this time of day. That’s all.”

  Colin hero-worshiped Robert enough to copy his appearance. Even though he only worked with charcoal, he dressed as if he were painting with the brightest, indelible oil paints. He hung his jacket on a hook. Then he pulled off his shirt cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. He slipped on a smock, and buttoned it down the front. “You told me you were painting at first light, sir. It must make for a very long day.”

  “It doesn’t really. I just keep different hours than the rest of the school.” Robert walked sleepily to a pile of ferns in a corner. He took three, arranged them in a tall vase, and carried it through the circle of easels to the center of the room. “I’m probably asleep when you’re still deep into your studies.”

  “I am studying extra late, and for the most appalling reason. There’s a girl in my classes. Can you believe it, sir? They’re allowing a girl to read medicine, and giving her top marks. She constantly challenges the masters, asks interminable questions. They actually seem to like it. She’s a veritable teacher’s pet.”

  Robert hid his amusement. “This girl must be very clever to give you chaps a chase.”

  “She’s not clever at all.” Colin’s jaw tightened. “She’s cunning, like an animal. Dresses almost like a man, and she’s not a bit feminine.” He walked to his usual easel. “She’s been lucky, that’s all. I’m sure she’ll wash out. It’s an absolute scandal. I hope she’s tossed out on her ear.”

  Robert whispered silently, “You should be tossed on your ear. Little snot!” He turned back and caught his breath.

  Elisa stood in the doorway, smiling at Colin. She was even more beautiful than Robert remembered. She had gained weight, and her color was radiant. She politely lowered her eyes, curtsied, and handed Robert her art class enrollment slip.

  Colin beamed. Since their first meeting at the opening supper, they had waved to each other across the river, sat near each other at chapel, but only exchanged a few words.

  Robert read the enrollment slip. “Very well, Miss Roundtree. We’re using charcoal today.”

  The room quickly filled with eight girls and two boys, tossing smocks over their clothes, then hurrying to claim stools and easels.

  Colin hurried to Elisa. “Come over to my side. The light’s best.”

/>   Thinking that Colin should play Romeo on his own time, Robert steered her to an easel on the other side of the room. “I don’t think so. This is Miss Roundtree’s first class. She will do better on this side.”

  Sure she had already committed some offence, Elisa shuddered when Robert held a smock open. Obeying at once, she turned her back and slid her arms through the sleeves. He pulled it up, and gently pushed her toward a high stool. Nervous as a cat, she joined the circle of students, all staring at the ferns.

  Colin sent her a bright smile, then concentrated on his drawing. All the other students sketched busily with their charcoal sticks.

  Elisa smiled back, then stared at the large piece of gray paper tacked onto the easel in front of her. She tentatively lifted a stick of charcoal, toyed with it, and watched it blacken her fingers. Grimacing, she dropped the charcoal, wiped the smudges on her smock, and stared longingly at Colin.

  Robert watched her and shook his head. All she could think of was that tedious boy, and she was not happy about dirtying her hands. Making slow rounds, Robert corrected each student’s work, one at a time. When he reached Elisa, her paper was bare. He raised an eyebrow and she blushed.

  “I, I'm sorry, sir. I don’t know what to do.”

  He sighed wearily. “Just draw what you see.”

  “But, what if I’m not any good?”

  He rolled his eyes. “How long have you studied art?”

  She whispered, “I’ve never studied.”

  He whispered back, “Then, how can you expect to be ‘good’ at something you’ve never done?”

  She shrugged nervously.

  He continued whispering. “You might be naturally good. After you’ve studied for a while, you’ll be better. For today, just look -- think about what you see -- and mark the paper. Art isn’t like math's, with right or wrong answers. It’s just the artist’s expression of what he… or she sees.” He moved on, but kept watching her.

  She took a lot of time looking around the room and out the windows. He was relieved when she finally picked up a charcoal stick and started marking the paper. At first she drew slowly, judging each stroke. Soon, she was totally involved, glancing in all directions, marking the paper with bold strokes.

  It was a half-hour before Robert came around to her again. He looked at her picture and caught his breath. The paper was a chaos of lines and smudges. Some marks ran off the page, onto the wooden easel.

  Startled by his return, Elisa jerked back. Seeing her blackened fingers, she gasped, dropped the charcoal, wiped her hands on her smock, then stopped when the fabric blackened.

  Robert gestured to a long sink with two cold water taps. “You can wash your hands anytime you like.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She gratefully slid off her stool and went to wash. The icy water stung, but she liberally rubbed a large cake of brown soap into her fingers. Quickly, the black was gone.

  Robert studied her picture. It was remarkable. There was no technique, but she had discovered a rough form of cubism. It was reminiscent of Delaunay. He was sure she had no idea what she had done. When she returned, he was still concentrating on the drawing.

  “Tell me about your picture.”

  She almost sobbed, “I know it isn't any good.”

  “I think it may be very good.” A boy at the next easel strained to look, so he moved to block his view. He pointed to a tiny squiggle at the bottom of the paper, whispering, “Are those the ferns?”

  She whispered back, “Yes. These are the other easels and the students drawing.”

  “That arrow shape? Is it the tower of the administration building?”

  “Yes, and that’s the headmaster. He was easy to recognize, but I wasn’t sure who he was talking to.”

  “Then, this must be the river, and the woods, and my paintings on the walls.” He gazed in admiration. “Miss Roundtree, this is extraordinary. What made you draw so much?”

  “You told me to look and draw what I see.”

  “And you see a great deal.”

  “But, you had no idea what it is. That’s terrible!” Her voice was a quiet wail.

  “That doesn’t matter. I can teach you technique, but no one can teach a person to observe the way you do. It’s a gift. I’d like the other students to see this picture.”

  “No! Please don’t. I’m so embarrassed.” Tears filled her eyes.

  “All right. But I’m keeping this one. Sign it.” He took an eraser and carefully cleaned the lower right corner.

  “But, I have a long name.”

  “Then initial it.” When she scratched E. R., he chuckled. “Either you drew this, or Edward Rex.” She couldn't tell if he was being clever or cruel, pretending her mess of a picture was good. He removed the paper and tacked up a clean one. “Class is only another few minutes. See how you can do drawing the ferns. Nothing but the ferns.”

  Determined to do better, Elisa picked up a charcoal stick, and took time studying the ferns.

  Minutes later, the chapel bell rang. Since this was the last class of the day, some students raced out the door, but others kept drawing, or chatted with their friends. Colin walked around to Elisa, wiping his hands on his smock. He looked at her picture and laughed loudly. The page was clean, except for a few pristinely neat, curving lines, gracefully copying the curves of the ferns. “You sweet little silly thing. An entire hour has passed, and this is all you’ve got.” He took her hand, and saw that it was nearly clean. “You haven’t even dirtied your pretty fingers. How delightful!”

  Elisa was thrilled. This was perfect. She was sure Colin could fall in love with her.

  "Edwards?" Robert's voice boomed, “That was Miss Roundtree’s second picture. You should see the first, it is extraordinary.”

  No! Elisa wanted to sink through the floor. She clutched her hands together and stared at the floor. Robert saw her reaction and realized his mistake. “Of course, Edwards, she should see your picture, first.”

  Elisa sighed with relief as Colin led her around to his easel. His drawing was nothing but ferns. He hadn’t drawn the vase underneath, so they seemed to float in the air. He boasted about his use of tones and textures. Elisa pretended his words were thrilling and eagerly agreed with everything. When he invited her to walk with him to the foot bridge, she was ecstatic.

  “I’ve got a biology exam, day after tomorrow, so I’ll start cracking the books, tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll study all night. Then the material will be fresh in my brain.”

  Elisa bit her tongue. Lucy Ann was taking the same exam. She had been studying for weeks.

  That evening, Mrs. Carrots gave Lucy Ann permission to study as late as she wanted. Elisa was concerned. “Can you stay up two nights in a row?”

  Lucy Ann twisted her mouth. “No. Why would I do that?”

  “Well, the exam isn’t until the day after tomorrow. Someone told me that you have to study all night, the night before an exam. Then the material’s fresh in your brain.”

  Lucy Ann laughed. “That person’s an idiot. Staying up all night before an exam is liable to turn your brain into mush. I’ve done it, so I know it’s daft. When you’re tired, you’re likely to forget things and make stupid mistakes. It’s much better to study ahead of time and go into an exam well rested. This exam may determine my entire future. The lads only need passing marks. I need to earn a First.”

  Elisa smiled proudly. “You will win a First. I’m sure of it.”

  “Thanks, Elisa. I’m pretty sure I will, too.”

  Later, Elisa lay half asleep, looking across the room at Lucy Ann’s empty bed. Snuggling under her quilt, she remembered Colin walking her to the bridge. If he fancied her enough, they could elope to Gretna Green. She rolled over. No, she was too young. Chaps have gone to prison for taking girls to Gretna Green. Perhaps he’ll talk to his father….

  Per usual, the next day, Colin Edwards was the first to arrive for his art class. Elisa followed close behind. They politely greeted the art-master, then put on their smocks. E
lisa knew she should stay silent until Colin initiated the conversation, but she was too excited. “Oh, Colin, it was lovely walking by the river, yesterday. The weather’s even nicer, today.”

  Smiling indulgently, he spoke as if to a tiny child. “Pretty weather can’t rule our lives, silly missy. Right after class, I have important studying to do. It’s an all-nighter.”

  “No, you mustn’t!”

  He glared at her. “I beg your pardon?”

  She clutched her hands, guiltily lowering her eyes. “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted.” Turning away from her, he watched Robert setting out pastels.

  Elisa’s words burst out. “It’s just that… Well, Lucy Ann’s brilliant. All the masters say so. She says that studying all night, before an exam, can make you too tired, and you can make stupid mistakes.”

  Colin swung back to her. “How do you come to know Lucy Ann Minford?”

  “She’s my best friend.”

  Angry color rose in his cheeks. “Is she now!”

  “She’s been studying ever so hard. She says you lads only have to pass, but she has to earn a First. I don’t think that’s at all fair.”

  “She thinks she’s getting a First?” Colin’s chest heaved as he shook his finger. “No! No! No! She is not getting a first.” He pulled off his smock. “Forgive me, Mr. Dennison, but I won’t be taking class today. I have an exam, tomorrow.”

  Robert nodded his approval. “Understood, Edwards.” Colin took his jacket and stormed out of the studio.

  Elisa stood in shock. Colin may have been her only hope. She had driven him away, and she wanted to die. Tears welled in her eyes, then streamed down her cheeks. She ran out the door and the art-master called her back.

  "Miss Roundtree!" She stopped and obediently turned to face him. "Do you have an exam tomorrow?"

  She sobbed, "No, sir."

  "Then come back to class, at once."

  Hating the art-master, she swallowed her tears and went back to the studio. For the next miserable hour, she mindlessly toyed with colored pastels. A different Shakespeare sonnet ran over and over in her head,