by Lucy Ashford
‘I’ll take a hired carriage, William. Trust me, please—and say nothing of all this to his Grace, do you understand?’
William nodded. Slowly the big carriage moved off and Deb turned back to Luke, who had pulled up, uncertain, when he realised that she wasn’t alone. But as soon as the carriage had departed, he spoke up again eagerly.
‘Miss Deb, you’ve just missed our afternoon show—the theatre was packed! Francis guessed that you might be back to see us, with news of that theatre you were saying we might get—’
Deb cut in. ‘Luke, listen to me...’
‘We’ve got a new Orsino,’ Luke said proudly, bubbling over with excitement. ‘Old Joseph just couldn’t remember his lines, so he and Peggy had an almighty row, and we’ve got Jack Bentall as Orsino instead! Do you remember him, Miss Deb?’
Luke had no idea—no one did—that Deb had reason to remember Jack Bentall all too well. ‘I do,’ she said. ‘Luke, is Francis nearby? I need to speak to him, about Jack...’
‘Deborah,’ said Jack Bentall.
He’d strolled up behind her and now he stood there, smiling and arrogant; the same as ever. But she didn’t think him handsome now. She didn’t know how she ever could have found him handsome.
She turned to Luke. ‘Will you leave Mr Bentall and me together, Luke, just for a few minutes?’
‘Very well. But, Miss Deb, why don’t you come to the performance next week, if you can? You’ll be proud of us—won’t she, Jack?’
‘She certainly will,’ said Jack, still smiling. ‘Though Peg’s not nearly as good a Viola as Deb would be.’ His eyes roved her figure salaciously. ‘But—all in black, Deb? Expensive black? What game are you playing now?’
She ignored him. ‘Luke. Go,’ she repeated more forcefully.
Luke left. She turned slowly back to Jack. Hateful, hateful man. Then—‘What are you doing here, Jack?’ she breathed.
‘Me? Oh, I was booked for a run at the Haymarket, but the manager turned out to be a fool. So I decided to look around. Then I heard that the Lambeth Players needed an Orsino, and I’ve got rather fond memories of the Lambeth Players. I even heard that you were in charge of them, Deb. Sadly, you weren’t around, but I decided to rejoin them anyway—for the time being.’ He gave her his sleek grin. ‘So here I am.’
She felt her heart drumming. ‘I am still in charge of the Lambeth Players,’ she breathed. ‘And I would not have hired you if you were the last man on earth.’
‘Such flattery,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t worry, I haven’t told a soul, sweet little Deb, about you and me. But, you know, you’re looking really well. If you fancy a secret meeting one day, to relive old times...’
She was backing away. ‘No. Never.’
He was watching her, one eyebrow raised. ‘Now, you’re not going to send me packing, I hope? I’m afraid it’s a bit late for that—your play would be ruined, besides which I bring quite a few female admirers with me.’ He was smiling now at some young women who’d stopped to gaze at him with interest. ‘And you needn’t worry that I’m pining for you, Deb. I’m after richer pickings these days, believe me. Though you can help me keep my bed warm any night you fancy—I’ve got a snug little room at the Red Lion Inn, only a short way from here—’
Deb slapped him.
He took a step backwards, rubbed his reddened cheek and laughed. ‘I like a woman who has a bit of spirit,’ he said, and strolled away, back towards the theatre.
* * *
Deb found a carriage to take her home, and as it rattled along over the bridge and towards Mayfair, she closed her eyes and pressed her hands to her cheeks. Jack Bentall—lowering himself to act with her company. Why?
He must have been dismissed from the Haymarket—for his arrogance, perhaps. But soon enough even Jack Bentall was dashed from her mind. She’d entered the house and was about to climb the staircase to her room, when she heard footsteps behind her and realised Laura was there.
‘I knew!’ cried Laura. ‘I knew you weren’t Paulette! Helen told me that she saw you last year, on stage with the Lambeth Players. You’re an actress, aren’t you? But why...?’
Swiftly Deb led her into the nearest room, away from the servants. ‘Laura, listen to me. It’s really vital that you don’t tell anyone that I’m not Paulette.’
‘But Beau knows, of course?’
‘Yes, Beau knows, but no one else. There are good reasons for all this, reasons that are very important to Beau and to the memory of Simon. Also, Laura—I’d be really grateful if you didn’t tell Beau that I was talking to my friends from the Lambeth Players this afternoon.’
‘All right. I promise,’ said Laura obediently. ‘But it’s so exciting. You’re an actress, a real actress...’
‘Laura?’
‘Yes?’
‘Please don’t go out without Miss Champion again, will you? You know that your brother wouldn’t like it in the slightest.’
Laura gave her a lovely, dimply smile. ‘We’ve both got secrets.’ She nodded eagerly. ‘And you and Beau—you like each other very much, don’t you? It’s all so romantic—but I won’t say a thing! I adore secrets.’
Chapter Twenty
‘My brother,’ said Beau, his voice ringing clearly around the lofty pillars and stained glass windows of the crowded church, ‘was taken from us too early. Many of you knew Simon when he was a boy. You will remember how kind he was—how generous, and full of life.’
Deborah sat on the front pew, with her black mourning veil pulled low. Laura, in black also, sat beside her. The church was full for Simon’s memorial service. The congregation listened as one to Beau’s words.
He holds them in the palm of his hand, she thought, just as a gifted actor would. Without apparent effort, his clear tones rang with warm resonance around St Margaret’s church. He spoke with a calm and moving dignity, reminding them of everything that was good and kind about his younger brother—though God knew, thought Deb, there was another Simon, a Simon who’d resented and almost hated Beau. Who’d married Paulette because he thought that in doing so, he would be spiting his older brother.
But this was Simon’s day. All that was good about Simon was being honoured, and that was why Deb was here, next to Laura, who had tears trickling down her cheeks. Deb reached out silently to hold her hand while gazing up at Beau, knowing the heartache that underlay his calm words.
* * *
Last night, the night before the service, he had come to her and he was in low spirits, she could tell. He’d stood there in her bedroom, loosening his black cravat, raking down his hair and looking so tired, and she’d gone over to him. The soft candlelight highlighted the frown that furrowed his brow and she raised her hands to cup his face.
‘You did everything you could for Simon,’ she said softly. ‘Everything.’
He said in a bleak voice, ‘That still doesn’t alter the fact that he’s dead.’
‘It was a tragedy, I agree. But it was not your fault—do you hear me? Not your fault.’
He held her almost fiercely, kissing the top of her hair, then breathing, ‘I want you. I need you, Deborah, so badly. Stay in my life, please.’
They had talked till long after midnight. ‘We can keep to our original plan,’ he urged her. ‘As Paulette, you can retreat to the countryside again, and vanish from society. But then—’ and his grip on her tightened ‘—you can come back as Deb O’Hara of the Lambeth Players. And we can be together.’
‘But people might guess...’
‘Guess what?’ he demanded. ‘That you were Paulette for a few weeks?’ He stroked her cheek. ‘No. You’re far lovelier than she was. You can let your hair grow long again, and swagger around in breeches and boots, and no one will know. No one.’
She was smiling—she couldn’t help but smile and grow warm inside b
ecause of the sheer need for her that she saw in his eyes. ‘But Beau—just think,’ she pleaded. ‘How can His Grace the Duke of Cirencester be seen around town with an actress?’ Beneath her smile, her heart ached. It’s impossible. Impossible...
He said steadily, ‘I can think of no one I’d rather have at my side. I’m already going to provide your friends with a theatre. I will provide you with a house also, and I won’t be ashamed of you, ever. Don’t leave me.’
Her feelings for this man were overwhelming. Beau, you must marry, she thought to herself. Some day you and I will have to part. But then he was kissing her, and when he broke briefly away to begin to unbutton her gown, all she could say, rather breathlessly, was: ‘We’ll talk again. After the service, tomorrow. Shall we?’
They’d made love, and afterwards—after she’d sighed out his name and caressed him passionately until he lost his iron self-control and joined her in an extremity of pleasure—afterwards she thought, I cannot bear to give him up yet. Please, God, not yet.
Deb knew, of course, that he would not be able to come to her on the evening after the memorial service. He was hosting a reception for countless friends and relatives, which she attended for less than an hour, still veiled, accepting all their expressions of sympathy with murmured thanks. After that she retreated to her room, where Bethany helped her to undress, and she lay awake, reading by candlelight.
It was after midnight. Beau’s guests were still below, she could hear their distant voices. They were all at the front of the house, in the first-floor reception rooms, but suddenly she heard another sound, from the rear of the house—from the garden. Guessing instantly that it was the sound of the gate in the far wall being carefully opened, she rose from her bed and tiptoed over to the window, to see in the moonlight that the gate was closing again.
Someone had just left. But she guessed also that someone had just come in.
Her heart filling with sudden, unnamed dread, she waited a few minutes, then pulled on a dressing robe and hurried along the passageway to knock softly at Laura’s door. There was no answer, but she went in regardless, and saw Laura, still in a dark cloak, taking off her bonnet.
Laura backed away defensively when she realised Deb had come in. Deb closed the door and said, ‘Laura. Please tell me you’ve not been out on your own.’
It was as if she’d unleashed a torrent of pent-up emotion in the younger girl. ‘Yes,’ Laura cried, ‘I’ve been out to meet a friend, who’s so kind to me, and so respectful! But Beau wouldn’t understand. He just wouldn’t!’ Tears sparkled in the young girl’s eyes.
Deb felt sick and panicky inside. ‘Is your friend a man?’
Laura didn’t reply. ‘Listen,’ Deb went on. ‘Listen, Laura. You must see, surely, that no one—no man—who really cared for you would ask you to come out at night to meet him. No man would ask you to keep this a secret from your brother. You surely realise that Beau loves you so much; he only wants what’s best for you.’
‘But Jack loves me, and I love him! He’s so handsome, he could have anyone—but it’s me he wants, he’s told me so! And Beau would only be stuffy and strict, about Jack being an actor...’
This time Deb was not only feeling sick, but the room was whirling about her. ‘Laura. Don’t tell me you’ve been seeing—Jack Bentall?’
‘Why not?’ The younger girl tilted her chin defiantly. ‘My friend Helen took me to the theatre in Brighton to see him; she was wild about him, and so were all her friends. Then Helen and I realised that he was acting at the Dragon Theatre, and we went there together. The next day I went again on my own, and he came to talk to me. Since then I’ve met him several times. He’s the most wonderful and talented actor in all of London!’
Deb fought to stay calm. ‘Where have you been tonight?’
‘Jack took me to the Vauxhall Gardens,’ Laura said defiantly.
Deb closed her eyes. ‘What about Miss Champion?’
‘Oh, she’s always sick, or has a headache. Tonight, she came in the carriage with me as far as the river; but then I told her to go home, and I went to meet Jack at the place we’d arranged.’
‘So Miss Champion knew?’
‘She guessed I was meeting someone, but I told her I was going whatever she said. And she’s too scared of losing her position to report me to Beau.’
Foolish, foolish Miss Champion, thought Deb tiredly. Beau had been right to think her of no use at all.
‘Besides,’ went on Laura, ‘Beau is so busy tonight, with all his guests.’ She dashed some more tears from her eyes—the girl was overwrought, Deb realised, and her fragile, youthful emotions were dangerously stretched. ‘You must understand,’ Laura was emphasising. ‘Jack loves me, and I love him, so much!’
‘Laura,’ Deb managed at last. ‘With Jack—you’ve not let him...’
‘Oh, no! He—well, he kissed me tonight, just once.’ Laura blushed furiously, then continued fervently, ‘But he says that he respects me far too much to want any more. And he means it, I’m sure, although he loves me wildly!’
Keep calm, Deb reminded herself over and over. Don’t frighten her, or she’ll hate you. ‘Laura, you know very well, I think, that this is wrong. You know that your brother would not approve...’
‘But this is true love. Nothing can stand in our way, Jack said! And he has asked me to marry him. Oh, I know that Beau would be aghast, but he will get used to it, he’ll have to. Beau is always saying that he wants me to be happy—and, you see, I’m only happy when I’m with Jack!’
‘Laura. Laura, please listen to me. You know you’re not of age, so your brother would have to give his consent to your betrothal. And he’s unlikely to, but that’s only because he’s thinking of your future, your happiness...’
Deb’s voice trailed off as she saw the stubborn tilt to Laura’s mouth. She’s just a child, she thought despairingly. Damn you, Jack Bentall. A sudden, horrifying thought struck her. ‘Laura, Jack hasn’t suggested anything like elopement, has he?’
‘And what if he has? We love each other, Deb, don’t you see?’
If Deb’s spirits could have sunk any lower, they did so there and then. You needn’t worry that I’m pining for you, Deb. I’m after richer pickings these days, believe me. ‘Laura,’ she implored. ‘You’re very young. There are so many fine young men out there who will fall in love with you—but the best of them will proceed honourably. They won’t court you in secret. They’ll come to your brother, and ask his permission to meet with you, because they truly care for you...’
‘Are you saying that Jack is not honourable?’ Laura was crying bitterly now. ‘Just because he’s not rich? You cannot stop me seeing him. Beau cannot stop me seeing him. Jack is a wonderful, wonderful actor, and I’ll never meet anyone else like him, never! Haven’t you ever realised what it’s like to be in love?’
She threw herself into Deb’s arms and Deb comforted her, while Laura wept, ‘I cannot stop seeing him. I cannot.’
‘Darling,’ said Deb gently, ‘I’ll go and make you a warm drink. I’ll be back in a moment.’
Deb went downstairs. The big house was very silent. Beau would be sleeping upstairs, all his guests gone at last. He would turn perhaps in his dreams and reach out for her, murmuring her name.
A tremendous pain clutched at Deb’s heart. She’d grown to love him, so very much. Yes, he was proud and powerful; but he was deeply honourable as well. He’d tortured himself over the sad course of his younger brother’s life, and he’d taken upon himself all the burden of Simon’s weaknesses. He’d shown nothing but protective, generous love to Laura. And he would be appalled at this latest turn of events.
She paced the cold kitchen and shuddered. What was Bentall hoping for? Did he really think he could elope with Laura to Gretna, or was he planning on perhaps blackmailing the Duke by asking for money to stay away from the girl?
Bentall had underestimated the Duke badly, if he thought he could succeed with that. But even if Beau managed to curtail this—even if Deb went to Beau now, and told him all this—Laura’s heart would still be broken, and Laura would hate her brother for ruining her imagined happiness with Bentall.
Deb heated a little milk over the still-warm range, then took it upstairs. Laura had already changed into her nightgown, but was shivering; Deb made her wrap a shawl round her shoulders then sat her down, gave her the milk, and began to talk to her.
Better she suffers this now than later, she told herself inwardly, again and again. Better for her now than later.
Deb told Laura that Jack Bentall was her first lover. ‘He seduced me,’ she said calmly. ‘When I was about your age. I was foolish, and innocent.’
She saw the growing disbelief and shock in the girl’s face. ‘Jack and you? No. No...’
‘I’m afraid it’s true, Laura. Though he tired of me quickly enough. He makes a habit of finding impressionable girls, but they don’t last long with him unless they’re rich.’
‘Are you trying to say,’ Laura whispered, ‘that he picked on me because I’m the sister of a Duke?’
The heartbreak in her eyes was pitiful to see; Deb had to force herself to go on. ‘I’m afraid so, yes. Jack is very ambitious. He has the talent to get to the top of his trade, but he could make even more money by enticing a Duke’s sister to fall in love with him.’
‘And by marrying me? But why not? Why shouldn’t he marry me, when we love one another so much?’
Beau would never let his sister marry Jack Bentall. Never. ‘I’m afraid—’ Deb shrugged ‘—that it’s more than likely Jack will be planning on demanding a large sum of money from your brother, to stay away from you. He’ll know marriage to you is impossible—and neither will Jack want it, Laura. He’s not one to be faithful to any woman for long.’
Laura’s face was very white. ‘You’re jealous. You’re jealous, because he didn’t love you, but he loves me!’
‘You’d better listen to me, then,’ said Deb calmly. ‘I’m afraid it’s only a matter of days since Jack asked me to spend the night with him.’
