Undone - Virginia Henley

by Virginia Henley

  At her mother's signal, Maria stood up and curtsied. "I would like to do Juliet for you." When she saw that she had Peg Woffington's full attention she clasped her hands together and recited:

  "O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

  Deny thy Father and refuse thy name;

  Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

  And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

  'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;

  Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.

  What's Montague? It is nor hand nor foot,

  Nor arm nor face, nor any other part

  Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!

  What's in a name? That which we call a rose

  By any other word would smell as sweet;

  So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,

  Retain that dear perfection which he owes

  without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,

  And for thy name, which is no part of thee,

  Take all myself."

  Though the delivery was rather unremarkable, Peg had to admit that Maria Gunning was surely the most exquisite-looking Juliet she had ever seen. If Maria were upon a stage, she would attract every eye in the house. "Even Will Shakespeare would have to agree that you are the very image of his Juliet," she offered generously.

  Elizabeth glanced at her mother and saw she was like a dog with two tails at the praise Maria had received. She was in such good temper that Elizabeth dared to abandon her pretty recitation of Ariel, the Elemental, offering the chalice in _The Tempest_. She took the floor and bowed gravely. "I wish to do _Henry V_ rallying his men at Agincourt." She looked quickly away from her mother before she could glimpse her displeasure and spoke directly to Peg:

  "This day is call'd the feast of Crispian:

  He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,

  Will stand a' tiptoe when this day is named,

  And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

  He that shall see this day, and live old age,

  Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors,

  And say, 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'

  Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,

  And say, 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'

  Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,

  But he'll remember with advantages

  What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,

  Familiar in his mouth as household words,

  Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,

  Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,

  Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.

  This story shall the good man teach his son;

  And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,

  From this day to the ending of the world,

  But we in it shall be remembered--

  We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

  For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

  Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,

  This day shall gentle his condition;

  And gentlemen in England now a-bed,

  Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here;

  And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

  That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day."

  For a moment, Peg could not speak for the lump in her throat. The lovely golden girl had transformed herself into proud, young King Harry as he urged his men to fight for England. She was noble, passionate, and heartbreakingly vulnerable at the same time. Peg applauded. "I am absolutely thrilled that you don't mind taking a male role. Often the best parts are written for men. I, myself, am playing the part of Sir Harry Wildair tonight in _The Constant Couple_. It's such a fun part. You must stay and see it!"

  "Thank you! It's been ten years since we last saw you on stage, but I have never forgotten your performance. May we look around the theater?" Elizabeth asked with suppressed excitement.

  "Of course. It's a good idea to get yourselves familiar with the place if you intend to perform here." Peg scribbled on a card and handed it to Bridget. "This tells management you are my guests and are to be given front-row seats. After the performance we'll go for a late supper and celebrate!"

  Buoyed by all things theatrical, Bridget squired her daughters backstage to view the props and the scenery that moved up and down by myriad ropes and pulleys. With great authority she pointed out the exits and entrances at stage left, right, and center, and explained the lighting and how to gain and keep the spotlight. They lingered in the makeup room, lined with mirrors, and inspected all sorts of fascinating pots containing rouge, white lead face paint, powder, patches, beards, and wigs. The girls, who had never been allowed to wear face makeup, found the smell of grease paint, mixed with spirit gum, quite exotic. Eventually, they were shooed out as the actors arrived to get ready for the upcoming performance. They skirted the wardrobe room where dressers were assembling the costumes for tonight and went down to the pit to see the musicians arrive to tune their instruments and set up their music stands.

  They wandered up the aisles between the rows of seats and marveled at the theater's acoustics that magnified their voices in the empty playhouse. Then they climbed to the balcony and, feeling extremely daring, entered a private box. Maria preened, pretending all eyes were upon her, while Elizabeth sat in a velvet upholstered seat and imagined how decadent it must feel to be able to view a play from such a luxurious setting. Finally, they climbed to a third level, known as "the Gods," where the cheap seats were located and learned firsthand why it was necessary to cultivate a full-bodied stage voice that would carry up to the roof.

  Shortly, the Smock Alley Theater began to fill up, and Elizabeth watched, wide-eyed, as the well-dressed Dublin patrons filed in and took their seats. She felt acutely self-conscious in her cotton dress and woolen shawl and was greatly relieved that the lamps were being lowered by the time they were shown to their seats in the front row. But from the moment the curtain went up and the actors stepped onto the stage, Elizabeth forgot about herself and was transported to the make-believe world of _The Constant Couple_.

  The antics of Sir Harry Wildair soon had the audience rolling with laughter. Of course everyone in the theater knew that the principal role was being played by Peg Woffington, who was equally adept at comedy or drama. The play was farce, pure and simple, and Peg, full of vitality and wit, held the audience in the palm of her hand. Beth knew immediately what her secret was: Though she was an attractive, elegant woman in reality, she did not mind appearing unattractive or inelegant, and her audience adored her for it.

  Elizabeth sat enthralled as she took in every nuance, every wink, every gesture and dramatic pause. Like a sponge she absorbed the tone, the timing, the timbre of the voices, the humor, both broad and sly, and the flawless delivery. She heard the words, the music, and the laughter. She smelled the perfume, the grease paint, and the sweat of the unwashed. She felt the magic and the wonder and the joy of the performance unfolding before her eyes, and she knew that this was one of the most deliriously happy nights of her life.

  After the performance, Peg took them for a late supper to the Oyster House in Fishamble Street

  , where she told her guests to order anything they fancied. Elizabeth was hesitant at first, worrying about the cost, but when her mother ordered chowder followed by smoked trout and Maria boiled shrimp and crab, she decided to indulge with fried oysters and prawns. Peg and her mother were drinking porter, served in big pewter mugs, and Bridget gave her permission for the girls to have a small beer for the very first time. Elizabeth was amazed at how easy it was to laugh between delicious mouthfuls of food and drink. What a lovely place the world seemed with a full belly and replete appetite!

  "I'm staying at Dublin Castle--a guest of the Viceroy, no less." Peg drained her tankard and ordered another. "His Excellency has ordered a command performance for tomorrow evening. The whole Court will come in state. A retinue of eight or ten carriages will sta
rt from the castle and proceed according to the rank of the parties, and a file of cavalry with jingling accoutrements will form an escort to the colonnade of Smock Alley Theater."

  "The house will be crowded to the roof," Bridget predicted.

  "The Viceroy's party will sit in the box we were in!" Elizabeth's eyes were wide with wonder that she had actually sat in the state box where the Governor of Ireland would sit tomorrow.

  "Exactly right," Peg nodded, trying to contain her laughter. "The Court puts on a better bloody performance than we do. The theater manager, wearing a satin suit, leads the way, holding aloft a pair of wax candles, then, at the head of his glittering staff, the Viceroy enters, blazing in gold and Garter. The Court staff in regulation uniform--coats with gilt buttons and blue satin facings, with white waistcoats--stand stiffly in a miserable state of agitation while the orchestra plays 'God Save the King' and everyone tries to ignore the vulgar and piquant observations from the great unwashed sitting up in the Gods." Peg wiped her eyes.

  Bridget rubbed a stitch in her side from laughing. "You paint such an amusing picture. I can see it all in vivid detail."

  "Oh, I wish we could come to Dublin Castle and really see the Viceroy and the Court," Maria said wistfully.

  Peg put her head on one side thoughtfully. "Why not?" she said slowly as an idea began to form. "On Saturday, His Excellency is having a drawing room followed by a ball. It will be a grand affair to end the Season, where the _debutantes_ are presented." Her gaze was drawn to Maria and Elizabeth. "Why shouldn't these beautiful young ladies be presented?"

  Maria turned a radiant face to her mother. "Oh, could we?"

  "It's not possible," Elizabeth said apologetically, trying to hide her humiliation. "We don't have anything to wear."

  "Ah, I hadn't thought of that." Peg bit her lip, then smiled. "The theater has a whole wardrobe room packed with gowns and wigs. Come tomorrow and we'll find something that fits you--you too Bridget. In the meantime, I'll see that your names are put on the invitation list."

  Suddenly, Elizabeth dared to hope for what had seemed unattainable. _There is magic in the air tonight, and Peg Woffington must surely be our Fairy Godmother_!

  When they arrived back at Dame Street

  , their father, who had been out to a gaming club, was there before them. Excitedly, they told him about Smock Alley Theater, the play they'd seen, the supper at the grand Oyster House, and saving the best till last, finally told him that Peg Woffington was going to arrange for them to be presented to the Viceroy of Ireland at Dublin Castle. "She's even going to let us choose gowns from the wardrobe department!"

  "Is all this true?" Jack asked his wife.

  Bridget nodded. "I told you our luck was about to change! Peg was extremely impressed by our daughters' beauty and talent. She sees no reason why they shouldn't be offered small parts and begin their apprenticeship at Smock Alley Theater."

  "But what about attending this drawing room the Viceroy is giving at Dublin Castle? Don't you have to be somebody to be put on the invitation list?"

  "We are somebody! Are you not the son of Lord Gunning, and do we not live at Castlecoote? It certainly sounds like a castle and none need know otherwise! You girls get to bed; you've never been up this late in your lives."

  Maria and Elizabeth did go to bed, but they couldn't sleep for hours. Instead they lay whispering about what it would be like to attend a ball. "We must practice our dancing tomorrow, in case someone asks us to dance," Maria decided.

  "No one will ask. We don't know anyone," Elizabeth whispered.

  Try as she might, she simply could not visualize herself in a ball gown, yet, when sleep finally did overtake her, she found herself wearing a beautiful dress and, to her utter amazement, a gentleman asked if he could partner her in the dance. His face was blank and in the dream he had no discernible features, yet, strangely, there was something dangerously familiar about him.

  The following morning, much to their delight, the Gunning females spent hours in the wardrobe room of the Smock Alley Theater. Neither Maria nor Elizabeth had had the least notion that dressing for a formal affair was so involved and complicated. The things that went beneath a gown were every bit as important as the dress itself, perhaps even more so.

  First and foremost came stockings, and Elizabeth was astounded when the dresser in charge brought out all her boxes of hose. They were dyed every color of the rainbow and made from many different materials. She chose a pair of ecru lace, crocheted in a flower pattern, then, to her great delight, the dresser opened her boxes of garters. Elizabeth realized that choosing garters was much like selecting cakes from a tray of confections. Some were beribboned, others were embroidered with beads or sequins, while yet others were adorned with huge flowers or bright birds. Maria immediately picked garters decorated with brilliant red poppies, but Beth lingered long over her choice and finally decided on a pair made from a delicate shade of green ribbon and embellished with snowdrops.

  When she drew the stockings up her long, slender legs and fastened on the pale green garters, a sudden feeling of longing came over her. They transformed her girl's legs into the lovely limbs of a lady, and she wished she could keep them on forever.

  Next, they had to be fitted for corsets, something they'd never owned. Their mother had a corset, of course, but it was nothing like these delicate garments with fine whalebone and fancy laces. Bridget fitted one around Maria's midsection and began to pull on the laces. Peg chose one of white silk for Elizabeth that reached from her hips up to beneath her breasts, and as Beth cupped her hands over her exposed bosom, Peg began to draw on the laces.

  When she was done, she called to her dresser, "Dora, bring a measuring loop! I've never seen such a tiny waist in my life. It cannot be more than eighteen inches!"

  Dora measured Elizabeth's waist. "Seventeen inches, ma'am!"

  "My darling girl, your figure is perfection. Every female in the world will envy, hate, and detest you. How bloody marvelous!"

  "Oh, Peg, I don't want other females to hate me," Beth replied.

  "Well, I'm afraid they will. Your face alone will guarantee that, my darling girl. Let's see if we can find a gown small enough. It must be white, so that will cut down on our selection."

  When both sisters were dressed, their gowns were quite similar in style. Each had a low neck, short sleeves, a tight waist, and a full skirt that opened down the front to show the stiff petticoat. Maria had chosen white satin brocade while Elizabeth's was made of delicate white tulle.

  They undressed with care, and Dora provided the girls with cloth bags to protect their garments, hung them on a rack, then wheeled it all into Miss Woffington's dressing room for safekeeping until the appointed time. "Don't forget to come early on Saturday--you will need makeup and wigs. Here's your mother. Let's see what she's picked." Bridget had chosen royal blue lace. "Good choice. It has a look of class, which will be most apt since I put you down on the Viceroy's invitation list as the daughter of Viscount Mayo, whoever that may be!"

  "Viscount Mayo?" Bridget looked alarmed.

  "His family name is Theobald Burke, and Burke is your maiden name, so it seemed convenient. Not to worry, County Mayo is clear across Ireland." Peg looked at their worried faces and raised her arm in a regal gesture. "You'll carry it off--you are _actresses_!"

  *Chapter Four*

  The Gunning girls spent hours practicing their dancing steps, curtsies, and Court manners beneath their mother's critical eye. She provided them with paper fans and put them through their paces regarding etiquette and the _language_ of the fan. "Remember to address the Viceroy as Your Excellency. A duke or duchess is Your Grace and it will be safest to address everyone else as My Lord or My Lady. Now, do either of you have any questions?"

  "How will we be announced when we are presented?" Beth asked.

  Bridget had no answer for once and turned to Jack for his help.

  "I will simply be announced as John Gunning, Esquire, of Castle Coote. Your mother
, since her elevation to the peerage, will be the Honorable Bridget Gunning, daughter of Viscount Mayo. It will depend on what's printed on the invitation. You could be Elizabeth Gunning, granddaughter of Viscount Mayo and Lord Gunning of Cambridgeshire. The last, at least, is no lie," he said, laughing.

  Bridget gave him a scathing look. "Maria, being the elder, will be presented first, Elizabeth. Don't shove yourself forward!"

  Beth put her hand over her heart. Being presented at the Viceroy's ball would be too daunting. "My insides are fluttering."

  "Cease such nonsense immediately, Elizabeth! You will simply think of it as a role in a play. You are both young ladies of the _ton_ who are being presented to the Viceroy of Ireland. You make your curtsies, you display pretty manners, you smile, you lower your lashes demurely if spoken to, and you keep your mouths _shut_."

  "Except when we eat," Maria chimed in.

  "Ladies of breeding eat like birds! Have you forgotten all I've taught you? If and when you are offered refreshments, you open your fan, lower your eyes, and murmur, 'No thank you, ma'am'."

  "Are we ready for off, my beauties? There's a warm breeze blowing, I don't think you'll need your woolen shawls."

  As they stepped into the street, a gust of wind blew Elizabeth's skirt up to reveal her ankles clad in the black cotton stockings. She pushed it down and cast an apprehensive glance at her mother.

  "Acting the role of a young lady of breeding doesn't come naturally to you, Elizabeth. How do you expect to be a success on the stage? You must imitate Maria; she has it down to perfection."

  "Yes, ma'am," Elizabeth murmured, wishing with all her heart that she could make her mother proud of her.

  They walked from Dame Street

  to the theater but hoped that once they were garbed in their finery they'd be able to ride to Dublin Castle. Beth's excitement began to rise and a bubble of laughter rose to her lips. She felt her father squeeze her hand and anticipated this would be the most thrilling night of her life.