The Captain's Daughter

by Jennifer Delamere

  “Our guard, more like,” Elsie complained, as everyone followed her out of the station. “She’s probably been sent by Mr. Gilbert to watch over all the ladies.”

  “Oh, I hope not,” said Helen. “This is our chance to be free of all that nonsense for a while.”

  The Gerston Hotel turned out to be close to the station. The walk there was easily accomplished despite muddy streets from a recent rain. The hotel was not luxurious by any means, but it was clean and looked well kept.

  “The theater is adjacent to this hotel,” Helen said. “This will be very convenient.”

  They waited in the lobby while Mrs. Boyle collected their keys from the front desk, and a hotel porter approached them with a letter in his hand. “Is anyone here named Rosalyn Bernay?”

  “Yes, that’s me!” Rosalyn said eagerly, stepping forward.

  The porter handed her the letter. “This was sent to you in care of the hotel.”

  Julia’s familiar scrawl confirmed Rosalyn’s first guess about who would have sent her a letter here. She was so excited to read it that she barely noticed as the porter tipped his hat and walked away.

  “A letter!” Tony exclaimed. “Have you an admirer here already?”

  Rosalyn was surprised that he actually looked alarmed at the prospect. “Nothing like that,” she replied. “It’s from Julia.”

  “Julia?”

  “My sister.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I had forgotten you had a sister.”

  It seemed odd that he would have forgotten. Rosalyn had mentioned Julia to him several times.

  She opened the letter, savoring each word as she read it all the way through. Leave it to her ever-resourceful sister to think of sending her a letter here. She couldn’t keep a smile from her face.

  “You seem to be enjoying it,” Helen said. “Is it good news?”

  Rosalyn looked up to see everyone looking at her with interest. “It’s actually very entertaining. Would you like to hear it?” Ordinarily she’d never share a private letter from a family member, but in this case, she thought they’d enjoy the contents as much as she did.

  “We’d love to,” Helen said, and everyone else nodded in agreement.

  “All right.” Rosalyn took a breath and began reading the salutation. “‘My dearest and most talented sister—’”

  “Such a shame when siblings don’t get on,” one of the men joked.

  “Quiet!” Helen said to him and nudged Rosalyn to keep reading.

  “‘Since there is no time for a letter to reach you before you leave London, I’m taking a chance that this will find you at the hotel in Paignton. I dearly wish I could be there!’”

  “So do we,” said another man from the chorus. “Is she as pretty as you?”

  “Don’t be disrespectful,” Tony chided with a smile.

  Rosalyn gave a little sigh. How lovely it would have been if Julia could have come. She’d written to her sister in haste as soon as she knew she’d be part of this show. She knew it was unlikely that Julia would have the time or the means to get here, but Rosalyn had thought she should at least know about it.

  “Go on, Rosalyn,” said Tony. “We are beside ourselves to hear the rest.”

  “I am just getting to the good part,” she agreed, and continued reading. “‘I’m so excited for you! Even though the acting profession is generally considered to be a hazardous and unreliable way of earning a living—’”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Elsie chimed in. Everyone gave knowing nods.

  “‘—I applaud you for having the boldness to step out on the stage. Perhaps we ought not tell Cara’s employer, though. From the way she has described them, I surmise they are very old-fashioned about these things. They might not be happy to know their nursery maid has a sister in such a scandalous occupation.’”

  “Your secret is safe with us,” Helen assured her.

  “‘I must end this letter now and post it before I rush off to work. But please know I will be cheering you on in spirit. God bless you, and good luck!’”

  Rosalyn tucked the letter back in its envelope. It was nice to have Julia’s approbation, even if given in such a teasing manner.

  “That’s such a sweet letter!” Helen exclaimed. “I wish I had a sister.”

  “Aren’t we all like sisters?” Elsie wrapped her arm through Helen’s. “After all, we have to stick together. Just like one big family.”

  It was heartening to hear Elsie’s comment. She’d noticeably cooled toward Rosalyn since the night of Jessie’s party, undoubtedly due to Rosalyn’s continued friendship with Tony. Rosalyn kept seeking ways to lessen the friction, but it seemed a doomed cause.

  Perhaps this was like one big, boisterous family, Rosalyn thought, as Mrs. Boyle returned and led them to their rooms. Even with its disagreements. And even a brother who seemed a tad forgetful at times, she added to herself, as Tony took her arm to walk with her up the stairs.

  It was pouring down rain when Nate’s train pulled into Paignton, but he’d seen worse. He was immensely satisfied just to have arrived on time with his cargo.

  The Bijou Theatre was close to the railway station, so that was one thing in his favor. He hired two wagons at the station and got everything to the theater in reasonable time.

  The rain slacked off as Nate began to oversee the unloading of the wagons. Even so, the process took some time. Several of the stagehands from the theater carried the crates and boxes into a side door. Once inside, the backstage manager at the Bijou showed Nate around the theater to help him get his bearings. Since the Opera Comique was the only theater Nate had ever seen the back of, he found himself intrigued by how the Bijou was laid out. It seemed better designed than the Opera Comique.

  He returned to the stage area to find the stagehands in the process of hanging the backdrop, the canvas that Patrick had damaged in his fall. The stagehands quickly hung it in place, working with rapid efficiency. Now repaired, this canvas didn’t look too bad, even though it was crumpled in a few places from being shipped. It was now meant to represent Penzance rather than Plymouth, but Nate supposed the audience wasn’t likely to be particular about the details.

  He set two of the stagehands to the task of unloading and arranging the props, giving them a list of all the items in the order they would be needed.

  The first man gave a low whistle when he pulled the lid off a crate and saw a dozen policemen helmets. “There are bobbies in this show? I’m sure I never saw that in an opera before!”

  The other stagehand scratched his head. “I thought it was about pirates?”

  “There are pirates, too.” Nate pulled a black flag with skull and crossbones from another crate.

  “Ha! This should be a good show!” the first man said.

  Nate was about to leave them to their task when he saw Mr. Gunn walking toward him.

  “I’m happy to see you here,” he told Nate. “Last I heard, you were making a frantic dash across London with our cargo. I wasn’t laying odds in your favor.”

  “It was close,” Nate admitted, “but I know a few shortcuts.”

  Mr. Gunn gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Well done. I don’t know if anyone else could have made it.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Nate was genuinely proud to have come through this successfully. “I trust you and the crew had a less eventful trip?” Even throughout this busy day, he had found himself often thinking of Rosalyn, picturing her on the train with the rest of the cast.

  Mr. Gunn gave a snorting laugh. “If you call being trapped in a railway car with overly energetic actors ‘less eventful,’ then yes, I suppose we did. They’re getting settled at the hotel but will be here shortly. Are their costumes in place?”

  “Just getting to that now, sir.”

  “Good. Well, I’ve got to go chat with the box office manager. I’ll leave everything here in your capable hands.”

  “Thank you, sir. You can count on me.”

  “I know that,” he replied
with an appreciative nod. “Glad to have you on this trip.”

  Still happy from this praise, Nate located some other stagehands to haul the crates of clothing upstairs to the dressing rooms. He was surprised to see the dressing rooms for the ladies and the men along adjoining hallways. Nothing at all like the Opera Comique, where they were split between two completely separate parts of the building.

  None of the cast had yet arrived, so the men had no qualms about carrying crates into the ladies’ dressing room. Nate lifted the lid on one of the crates to discover it held frilly lace nightcaps and the kind of thick woolen shawls worn for keeping warm at night. He wondered what kind of scene required the ladies to use these items.

  The other men went back downstairs to fetch the crates designated for the men’s dressing room. Nate lingered for a moment, curious. A row of tables and chairs was set against a wall, with a large mirror at each table. Nate tried to envision Rosalyn sitting at one of those tables, dabbing rouge on her cheeks and lips. But truly, she didn’t need any embellishment.

  He heard steps and the excited chatter of the ladies. He headed toward the door and had almost reached it when he was met by Helen and Elsie.

  “Well, well, well!” Helen exclaimed, managing to smile and smirk at the same time. “Look who I found sneakin’ around the ladies’ dressing room!”

  Nate stepped aside as the other ladies poured in, carrying satchels and small makeup cases. They made a beeline for the tables and began to lay out their supplies, each intent on securing their own bit of territory. Most gave him a mildly flirtatious look as they passed.

  Rosalyn was the last to arrive. “You made it,” she said, looking genuinely pleased to see him. “Mr. Gunn warned us there was some trouble with the shipping and we might have to perform the entire show in our street clothes.”

  Elsie went over to the open crate and pulled out a nightcap. “Nate, have you been inspecting our nightclothes?”

  “Shame! Shame!” several of ladies said, saying the words in high-pitched unison exactly as they did during Pinafore when recoiling from the villain.

  He held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “Just delivering the supplies.”

  “And I’m sure you’re very good at your job,” Elsie said salaciously, waving the nightcap and giving him a wink.

  “Actually, I’ve never been in a theatrical dressing room before.”

  “What, never?” Helen intoned, recalling one of the more famous lines from Pinafore.

  Everyone groaned gleefully and then dissolved into giggles.

  Nate knew that for these ladies, the jesting was only in good fun. Still, he hoped Rosalyn never became as garish in her talk as they were.

  “It’s a night of firsts for all of us!” Rosalyn exclaimed. There was a sparkle in her eye, and her cheeks were flushed.

  Yes, she was beautiful without the aid of any gaudy stage makeup. But this knowledge only put a knot in his stomach. “I have to go,” he said tersely. “Good luck.”

  Her smile faded a little as she looked at him in surprise.

  Nate quickly walked out the door and into the hallway. Behind him, he heard Helen say, “Rosalyn, come over here! Take this chair beside me.”

  He might have worried that he’d hurt her, but he was quite sure she was already lost in this world and had forgotten him the moment he left.

  CHAPTER

  20

  I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’m going to do with my hair,” Elsie moaned. “This damp weather has made it so limp.”

  “The perils of being by the seaside, dearie,” Helen said. “Still, this nice theater makes up for the inconveniences of travel. I’ve worked here a few times in touring productions. There’s even a real greenroom.”

  “Thank heaven for that,” Elsie said. “It’s such an irritation to be kept away from the men while we’re off stage. I mean, where’s the camaraderie in that?”

  “Exactly!” Sarah agreed.

  Rosalyn barely heard them. She toyed idly with her comb, her mind more on Nate than her hair. Why had he turned so cold earlier? Perhaps he’d only been reacting to the teasing from the other women. She couldn’t quite make out how he felt about the theater and about her involvement in it. She’d thought he was happy for her, but tonight all she’d sensed was disapproval.

  “That Nate Moran seems an awfully fine fellow,” Helen remarked, catching Rosalyn’s gaze in the mirror. “I hope he didn’t get put out by our foolish talk.”

  “I think he’s just concerned about me,” Rosalyn said.

  Elsie pulled a hairpin from her mouth and set it in her hair. “Is it because you have joined a—how did your sister put it—‘hazardous and unreliable profession’?”

  “Something like that.”

  “He’s a fine one to think so,” Elsie scoffed. “Isn’t he going back to the army? What’s more hazardous and unreliable than that? I have a brother who came home from the army minus a leg.”

  “My cousin didn’t come back at all,” Sarah said. “Died of dysentery in one of those miserable camps they have to live in while marching to a new location. Left behind a widow and four children. Very sad.”

  Rosalyn felt a spasm of worry at the picture these women were painting. Nate had already been wounded once; suppose he never came back from this next tour of duty? She couldn’t bear the thought of a wonderful man like Nate being lost. And what would it do to his family? No wonder his mother had been so adamantly trying to persuade him not to go back. Rosalyn blinked back tears as all these worries stockpiled in her heart.

  “Ladies, ladies. This is no time for moroseness.” Helen gave a brief, comforting squeeze to Rosalyn’s shoulders. “We’ve got a show to put on, and we’ve got to be ready to spread some happiness!”

  Helen was right. Rosalyn inhaled deeply and looked in the mirror, testing out a smile. It would do no good to worry about Nate just now.

  “Let’s look through the greasepaint,” Helen suggested, opening up her supply case to reveal an array of choices. “We need to decide which shade will look best on you.”

  “I like the layout of these lights very much,” Nate remarked. “This is so much better than the Opera Comique.”

  With everything delivered and unpacked, Nate had asked Joe, the head lighting man, if he would show him around. Joe seemed pleased to do this, evidently proud of the theater. At the moment, they were on a catwalk that ran above the stage, and Joe was showing Nate the battens, the rows of gaslights that lit the stage from above. He'd also shown Nate the gas table, which was a central board that controlled the batten lights with minimal effort.

  Joe looked pleased at the compliment, as if he owned the lights himself. “Let me show you our calcium lights, too.”

  The calcium lights, or limelights, were in excellent condition. Nate was about to ask if he could test them, but they were interrupted by Mr. Gunn, who asked Joe to bring the lighting crew together so they could discuss what would be needed tonight.

  “May I join you, sir?” Nate asked. “I’d love to see what you’re planning. That was my job at the Opera Comique.” It seemed odd to use the past tense like that. Working with the lights had turned out to be more intriguing than he’d ever expected, and Nate pushed back a surge of regret that this would be his last chance to do so. He decided to make the most of it while he could, before the army life reclaimed him and this would all be in the past.

  Mr. Gunn looked pleased at his request. “Absolutely.”

  After introducing himself to the crew, Mr. Gunn began to discuss what he envisioned for the lighting scheme. “You’ve had productions of Pinafore at this theater before.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Joe answered, “We have! Twice! A popular show, that is.”

  Mr. Gunn nodded. “This show will be set up a lot like Pinafore in terms of the lights. Act one takes place in the afternoon; act two takes place at night. We can set it up the same way: for act one, we’ll have everything full up at every available point throughout. For act two, the whi
te lights are down for rise of curtain. Have blue medium on everything possible. Raise the white floats slightly at the general’s entrance. Battens raised slightly at ladies’ entrance.

  “Near the end, when the constable says to the pirates, ‘Stop! In Queen Victoria’s name!’ we want the blue medium off everything and white lights full up until fall of curtain. So the minute he says this, everything changes dramatically.”

  “Quite right,” one of the men said. “Always give honor to Her Majesty.” Nate smiled. The other man had no idea of the specifics of the show, but Nate was amused to see his patriotism was on display nonetheless.

  “Exactly,” said Mr. Gunn. “Now, let’s discuss the calcium lights.”

  Joe looked surprised at this announcement. “We’re doing follow spots? We had the idea that wasn’t going to be necessary.”

  Mr. Gunn frowned. “Why did you think that?”

  Joe shrugged. “We heard it was going to be more like a simple run-through. And we’re not expecting much of a crowd.”

  “Even so, why not give the audience their money’s worth?”

  “It’s just that we have a smaller crew tonight, as you can see.”

  Nate said immediately, “I’d love to run one of the calcium lights. They are the finest I’ve seen.” Admittedly, he hadn’t seen very many limelights, but he knew these were better than the ones he’d used in London.

  Joe said proudly, “They’re the latest design.”

  “Excellent,” said Mr. Gunn, taking this as the affirmative. “Here’s the plan.”

  Nate knew there was never any doubt that Mr. Gunn would prevail. While working with him over the past few days, Nate had come to appreciate his forthright attitude and to admire his organizational abilities. It was no wonder he was responsible for coordinating the touring productions.

  “For the calcium, we want the white open from right to left, all strength on act one,” Mr. Gunn explained. “During most of act two, they’ll be blue medium from right and left. Be sure to carefully follow the principals throughout, since the lighting will be lower. And then, once again, we switch to full white at—”