by Louise Allen
Her friend nodded, her eyes not leaving Maude’s face. ‘Oh, Maude, I really do not know what to hope for the best.’
‘Hope for my happiness,’ Maude said fiercely. ‘Mine and Eden’s.’
They sat, hand in hand in silence for a while until Bel breezed in, shedding her furs into the arms of Jessica’s butler.
‘I have the final list of performers,’ she crowed. ‘And there are three of the Almack’s patronesses upon it! Lady Cowper, Princess Esterhazy and Lady Jersey, would you believe? I cannot prevail upon any of them to tell me whether they will perform together or individually, or what indeed, they intend to do—but such a coup!
‘Maude, darling—I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.’ Bel swooped for a kiss. ‘You look so well. Now, what are you going to do on the night? Jessica, Elinor and I plan to sing together and Ashe is going to teach Gareth a rousing military song with some of the soldiers as a chorus.’
‘I hadn’t thought,’ Maude confessed. ‘Recite something, I suppose.’ As she said it, she remembered that moment when Eden had stood on the stage below her box and spoken one line from Romeo and Juliet. Dare she? Could she find a passage that would tell him what she felt and yet be something that she might speak before an audience? ‘Shakespeare,’ she added, vaguely. She could not act, but she could recite and Eden had said she had good projection.
‘So serious.’ Bel pulled a face. ‘Still, I suppose we have lots of songs and comic pieces. Tomorrow we are going to the theatre to run through the order with Mr Hurst. Will you come?’
‘Yes.’ Maude nodded. That would be best. She did not trust herself to be alone with Eden and not tell him how she felt, tell him that she owned the theatre and he need no longer worry about it. Her friends would be more than adequate chaperons.
‘We cannot rehearse, that is the trouble.’ Bel stood in the centre of the fore-stage, a list in her hand, and addressed Eden, who was standing in front of the stalls looking up at her. ‘I mean, we can, but I can hardly ask some of the guests how long they will take.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Eden said. ‘Give me the list, with what you’ve got, and I will work out the timings as best I can and then improvise on the night. If necessary, the orchestra can cut all its pieces—or add things in if we are running short.’
‘Mr Hurst, you are quite wonderful,’ Bel said, beaming at him.
‘And you, Lady Dereham, are offering me Spanish coin,’ he retorted.
‘Oh, no, Mr Hurst,’ Jessica added, laughing at them as she and Elinor joined Bel. ‘We all think you are wonderful.’
‘All of you?’ His dark brows rose as he scanned the three of them.
‘Lady Maude too,’ Bel said, slyly, looking into the wings where Maude was standing, content to be at a safe distance. She had slipped in without Eden seeing her.
‘She is here, then?’ It seemed to Maude, as she stepped out of the shadows, that Eden’s expression lightened, the corners of his eyes creased into a smile, his lips curved, even as he bowed punctiliously. ‘I see you are in good health, ma’am.’
‘Thank you, yes. Good country air and food and I am quite myself,’ she said lightly, moving to join the others. He watched her walk across the stage, his eyes locking with hers as she reached Bel’s side.
‘You will take tea with me?’ Eden asked, still speaking directly to her.
‘We would be delighted, Mr Hurst,’ Jessica said briskly, her voice cutting across the tension between them.
‘In my office, then. Lady Maude will show you the way, if you will excuse me.’
Maude led the way into the square room, amused, despite her preoccupation, at the reaction of the others to the mass of prints and playbills on the walls and the drama of Eden’s great carved chair. They flitted about the room, peering at the pictures, the shelves of books, the heavy black opera cloak with its scarlet lining swept around the shoulders of a bust of Shakespeare.
She watched them, standing beside the chair, her hand absently caressing the great eagle that crowned the back. Eden entered quietly and joined her while Bel and Jessica went to help Millie find space for her tea tray.
‘You came back,’ he said, softly, resting his left hand, the one with the diamond ring, on the eagle’s claw.
‘Yes. I never meant to stay away for long.’
‘There is much I must say to you.’ His dark eyes seemed to suck her in as though she was gazing deep into a woodland pool. There was tenderness there, and anger and a haunting sadness. ‘I missed you, Maude.’
‘And I you.’ Somehow their fingers had drifted together, meshed, locked. His hand was warm and dry and she could feel the calluses on his palm, the hardness of the ring. ‘Eden…’
Behind them Bel cleared her throat and Eden turned, smiling. ‘Would you pour, Lady Dereham?’ and the moment had gone.
They had gathered round the tea table and were discussing the final details when suddenly the light flickered, dimmed, almost vanished. ‘What on earth?’ Elinor gasped. Then, as suddenly as they had faded, the gas lights were glowing as brightly again.
Eden got up and checked the lamps. ‘Strange—this has not happened before. I can only assume the gas pressure dropped for a moment. Will you excuse me, ladies? I must check that no lamps have gone out completely anywhere.’
‘I don’t like the things,’ Jessica confided as the door closed behind Eden. ‘I know they give a stronger light, but the smell gives me a headache.’
‘They must be safer than oil or candles, though,’ Bel suggested. ‘You can’t knock them over like oil lamps and the flame is enclosed.’
‘That’s true. But then there is the disturbance and cost of having to have the pipes put in everywhere,’ Jessica countered. They were still discussing it when Eden returned.
‘Inexplicable. If it happens again I will have to speak to the gas company—we cannot risk being plunged into gloom in the middle of a performance.’ He looked around the four faces as one by one they finished drinking their tea and began to gather up their possessions. ‘Is there anything else I can assist you with, ladies?’
‘No, thank you. I think everything has been organised to perfection.’ Jessica retrieved her umbrella. ‘We will see you on the afternoon of the Musicale, then?’
‘Lady Maude?’ She stopped, biting her lip, then turned with a smile.
‘Mr Hurst?’
‘Could you spare me a few minutes? There is something I would discuss with you.’ Maude’s heart seemed to jolt in her chest. Eden looked almost vulnerable, standing there, waiting for her response. But she could not risk being alone with him, not yet.
‘I am sorry, but I must go now, the others are waiting for me.’ She gestured towards the door as their voices faded away down the passage. ‘After the Musicale, Eden. We will talk then.’
‘Very well,’ he said sombrely, as though she had given him bad news. ‘You had better hurry, don’t keep your friends waiting.’ And somehow she forced a smile on to her lips and walked away.
It was like throwing a party to celebrate his own breaking heart, Eden thought as he stood on the stage at the Unicorn and surveyed the ants’ nest of activity that was transforming his theatre.
Men in shirtsleeves were everywhere, scarred soldiers, some limping, some with only one arm, mingled with his own carpenters and riggers while their noble lordships, Dereham and Standon, apparently enjoying themselves enormously getting sweaty and filthy, checked their work against Eden’s master plans.
Behind him, the scene painters and the scenery shifters were working to create the backdrop under Theo’s direction and in the boxes two dozen footmen, loaned by the various committee members, flapped tablecloths and clattered silverware under the command of his butler.
Backstage the Green Room had been transformed into a base for the caterers, his own cook supervising the men from Gunther’s while Millie, white with excitement at the responsibility, was in charge of the ice boxes and their precious contents.
Maude was with her frien
ds, arranging flowers and deciding on where the swags of greenery were to go. She was avoiding him; her smile, when they found themselves close, was strained. He, thankful for small mercies, knew no one expected him to smile at them; he rather thought he had forgotten which muscles were used.
Eden found his mind wandering to Maude again. What did she feel for him? Could she possibly share the emotion that was wrecking his sleep, leaving his body aching with unfulfilled desire and his thoughts flinching away from the knowledge of the pain to come? Would it be better if she did not—or worse? Better, he told himself. Then only he would be hurt. If she loved him, the knowledge could only bring him a second’s happiness.
All around him activity was slowing, men were stopping, standing back to eye what they had achieved, slap each other on the back. It was done. Even the ladies seemed satisfied at last, putting down scissors and wire and reaching out for one last tweak at vases of nodding blooms.
Now all that remained was to clear away the tools, sweep up and for the caterers to take over. Eden raised his voice. ‘Thank you! I suggest that everyone who is not involved in catering or cleaning leaves now. Beginners…that is, the committee, back here at six, if you please.’
Three hours for them to bathe and dress and rest. Three hours for him to transform himself as his theatre had been transformed and to show Maude, so very clearly, that the notorious Eden Hurst was not a suitable companion for her.
‘What on earth are you doing, my dear?’ Lord Pangbourne enquired with a chuckle, emerging on to the first floor landing to find Maude clutching the balustrade and muttering.
‘Practising my piece for this evening,’ she said. ‘Oh dear, I wish I had joined in with the others; my singing might be poor, but at least no one would have known if I had just mouthed the words.’ But it was not the act of performing that was making her insides tie themselves in knots and her hands shake, it was the thought of what Eden’s reaction to what she was saying might be.
‘You will be fine,’ her father said firmly. ‘What are you performing?’
‘Just a short piece from Shakespeare,’ Maude said vaguely. She had said little more than that to Eden, other than to add, ‘It will only take a few minutes. I will go at the very end, before the string band’s last piece’, before escaping under the pretext of taking delivery of the hothouse blooms.
‘Most suitable, I am sure. You look very lovely,’ Lord Pangbourne added. ‘That soft green suits you.’
‘Thank you, Papa.’ She had chosen the gown with care, selecting a simple column of green silk over an underskirt of soft cream crepe. Anna had piled her hair high, dressing it with pearls to match those in her ears and circling her throat.
It was, Maude thought, considering her appearance with ruthless detachment, the most elegant and also the most seductive garment she possessed, the low bodice cupping her breasts, the cunningly cut sleeves seeming on the point of slipping from her shoulders. If everything went well, they would slip from her shoulders under the pressure of Eden’s hands and his mouth would find the lush curves they guarded. And if she failed, then Anna would unfasten it with care, hang it up to air and then fold it away again in silver paper and lavender—she would never want to wear it again.
Two hours later she was sitting applauding her male friends and their soldier chorus while the Unicorn shook with cheers and clapping. ‘It’s a wild success!’ Jessica was on her feet, clapping. ‘Everyone is loving it.’ She collapsed back again on to her seat and fanned herself. They were using the Templeton box for their party so they had the best view of the whole theatre. Some people were promenading, others seated, eating. Parties had taken boxes and had crammed them with their friends and the wine was flowing like water.
Ashe had had the idea of charging for champagne, deliberately inflating the price, and guests were vying to be seen buying with a lavish disregard for cost in support of the charity. The rows of bottles in front of parties was becoming a matter for competition, and it was certainly helping the amateur performers overcome their nerves, adding an extra dimension to some of the more comedic pieces as performers literally tripped on to the stage to roars of laughter from their friends.
But the ladies, and most of the older men, were providing enough dignified entertainment to leaven the jollity and Eden was managing the order and presentation of the acts with flair.
He was also playing his role of showman to the hilt. Maude had told him she would like to see his impersonation of the old-school actor-managers and now she was wondering if he had remembered that and had dressed accordingly.
She watched, a fond smile on her lips, as he walked out to introduce the next act. ‘My lords, ladies, gentlemen! The lovely, the distinguished, the talented Lady Patronesses of Almack’s!’
They filed on, grouped themselves with the elegance of three Greek goddesses at the centre of the fore-stage and bowed. Jessica craned to see the four who had not agreed to perform. ‘Mrs Drummond Burrell is sucking lemons,’ she reported. ‘I am she wishes now she had agreed to take part.’
But Maude was watching Eden signalling to the string band to strike up the accompaniment for the song. His hair was glossy with oil, curled, dressed so its length was very obvious. His skin was golden in the gas light, his eyes so dramatically dark that she knew he must have outlined them with kohl. He had never looked so Italian and in his flamboyantly frilled shirt and his jet-black suit of tails she thought he had never looked quite such a dangerous male animal before either. Diamonds winked everywhere, including both ears, and the audience seemed to love him. He exactly fitted their mood for the evening—different, exotic, decidedly scandalous—and his uncompromising control of the stage seemed to steady the nerves of the most anxious performer.
Ashe, Theo and Gareth came in, larger than life after their success, grinning and demanding praise for their act. ‘And we have a surprise for you,’ Ashe added, flinging the door to the box wide. ‘I give you Her Serene Highness, the Grand Duchess Eva, and Lord Sebastian Ravenhurst!’
Maude was so swept up in the excitement of the new arrivals and the need to find chairs, settle them in the box, explain what was going on and demand news, that her planned half-hour of quiet rehearsal, when she had intended to slip away backstage by herself, was quite forgotten.
Eva, magnificent in ruby silk, waved to her friends all around, in between explaining their unexpected arrival. ‘The wind in the Channel was just right, we seemed to fly across, then the children were so good we just pressed on from Dover and arrived at five this evening and of course you’d told us about this in your letters, so we put the children to bed, got changed and here we are.’
‘Aren’t you exhausted?’ Bel asked over the clamour of a demonstration of Scottish sword dancing by three officers of a Highland regiment.
‘Not in the slightest,’ Eva pronounced. ‘Who have we missed?’
‘All of us except Maude, and she is the last act.’
The officers left the stage to cheers and Eden walked back on. Eva raised her quizzing glass. ‘What a very dramatic young man.’ Maude saw Jessica kick Eva’s ankle warningly. ‘Are we supposed to pretend he doesn’t exist?’ she asked provocatively with a sideways look at Maude.
‘What have they been telling you?’ Maude asked, resigned to Jessica and Bel having regaled Eva with the entire story, episode by episode, in their letters.
Instead of teasing her, Eva lent over and touched her cheek in a fleeting caress. ‘That you have lost your heart and it is hard for your friends to see how it is not going to be broken.’ Maude swallowed, shaken by the tenderness in Eva’s voice. The Grand Duchess could be so autocratic and overwhelming that the gentle understanding in her eyes brought tears to Maude’s own. ‘There are those who said I made an unequal marriage—the bridegroom included,’ she whispered. ‘But love gives you courage.’
Maude hung on to those words as the evening passed and the moment arrived when the act before her own came on to the stage. ‘You had better hurry down,’
Bel whispered.
‘No, I am staying here,’ Maude said, getting to her feet. ‘Please can you all move back a little and dim the lamps on that side?’
Puzzled, they did as she asked. Maude stood back in the shadows, waiting. Lady Calthorpe and her daughter came to the end of a charming duet and Eden walked back on stage.
To Maude’s eye he was puzzled, obviously wondering where she was, but, with a glance back into the wings, he announced, ‘Lady Maude Templeton!’
There was silence, then Maude stepped to the front of the box in the light of the only remaining lamp and spoke Juliet’s words, her voice clear across the crowded space.
Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards Phoebus’ lodging…
Chapter Twenty
“…come night, come Romeo, come thou day in night;
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night,
Whiter than new snow upon a raven’s back.
Come gentle night, come loving black-browed night,
Give me my Romeo…”
The theatre was hushed as Juliet’s words, the plea of a woman whose lover has been wrenched from her by a cruel twist of fate, who knew all too bitterly the barriers keeping them apart, floated out above them.
Maude spoke them from her heart, her eyes locked with Eden’s. He stood, stock-still, looking up at her, his face white.
“…and when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he shall make the face of heaven so fine,
That all the world will be in love with night…”
It was almost ended, he was still there, still intent upon her lips.
“O here comes my nurse…what news?”
And Maude stepped back into the shadows and into Eva’s arms. The silence stretched on, then the applause broke out and the tension was broken.
