by ILIL ARBEL
MISS GLAMORA TUDOR!
The New Chronicles of Barset:
Book One
By Ilil Arbel
Originally published by the Angela Thirkell Society of North America
Miss Glamora Tudor!
Copyright© 2008 by Ilil Arbel
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States; originally published by the Angela Thirkell Society of North America
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author.
Cover by Deborah Conn
INTRODUCTION
Ladies and gentlemen, may we present:
Miss Glamora Tudor!
While a lady should never adhere too strictly to dates, one fact must be clarified. The events in Miss Glamora Tudor! occur in 1954. The story begins in August, a year and two months after the June coronation of Queen Elizabeth the Second, who (or should we say whom?) we greatly admire for one of her more unusual accomplishments. During the later part of WWII, Her Majesty (then a lovely young princess) not only trained as a second lieutenant in the women’s services, but she actually drove and repaired trucks! But enough of these divagations, and let us go back to the explanation of the dates.
As it occurs in 1954, the book is not strictly a chronological sequel, but rather a leap in time into a period we preferred. In these days of “prequels” (their word, not ours!), this is perfectly normal. Besides, it might allow us further ventures into the delightful Barsetshire Universe at various time points
Each Thirkell book describes events that have happened a year before publication. The 1955 book is Enter Sir Robert, and it involves people who have nothing to do with the cast of characters in Miss Glamora Tudor!. Since life continues in Barsetshire even when it’s off stage, who is to say that the events in this book did not take place simultaneously with the events described in Enter Sir Robert, namely, in 1954? Should our calculations seem wrong to any of our readers, please forgive us. It is easy to make a mistake or two in the pleasant atmosphere of the “Cloud Cuckoo Land,” as Angela Thirkell herself described her novels. And is it really all that important? Paraphrasing the words of the immortal Alice, shouldn’t we all believe in six improbable things before breakfast, or at least before tea?
Throughout the novels, Glamora Tudor is always off stage. We only hear about her latest film and her new handsome co-star. Yet we have always sensed a delightful and interesting personality just waiting to emerge into the Barsetshire scene. Why was she never there in person? We think that the omission may have two reasons. First, it could have been a simple oversight. Second, Glamora does not live in Barsetshire, so she can’t show up. The solution to either possibility is to find a good reason for Miss Tudor to visit Barsetshire! Let her march boldly in wearing the glamorous New Look, since she must have ordered her clothes in Paris, let her be British, even though we do not agree that she was based on Anna Neagle, and let her bring some interesting friends of which we have never heard before. So here she is in Glorious Technicolor, and as Miss Jessica Dean would say, let the games begin!
Ilil Arbel
ACKNOELDMENTS
We would like to thank, in proper alphabetical order, the three wonderful people who made this book possible: Ms. Kathleen Fish, Ms. Barbara Houlton, and Ms. Louanne Wheeler. Without them, we would have never dared to venture into the Barsetshire Universe.
ALSO BY ILIL ARBEL
The Lemon Tree
Maimonides: A Spiritual Biography
The Cinnabar Box
Witchcraft: A History of Wicca
Madame Koska and the Imperial Brooch
Their Exits and Their Entrances
On the Road to Ultimate Knowledge
Anunnaki Ultimatum: End of Time
The Cinnabar Box
Chapter One
It was unusually early for the phone to ring at nine-thirty in the morning, but Miss M. knew Miss Merriman’s voice immediately. Two heads of states would recognize each other on the Red Phone, and these two ladies were no lesser entities than any president or prime minister. Furthermore, Miss M. sensed a tone of panic in the usually calm voice and poised conversation one expected from Miss Merriman.
“I am afraid I am calling very early, Miss M.,” said Miss Merriman, “but I must speak with Miss Dean as soon as possible.”
“Hello, Merry,” said a cheerful voice before Miss M. could answer. “I am not asleep. Despite what the world thinks, actresses are not necessarily lazy.”
“Miss Dean, we have a problem at Pomfret Towers. A true emergency,” said Miss Merriman.
“What happened, Merry?”
“Well, the Bishop invited Miss Glamora Tudor to open the Fete next week. She had graciously consented, and naturally the whole town is looking forward to it. As you know, she is much admired by the working classes, and being so famous, even some of your own circle is interested in seeing her in person. Suddenly the Bishop, his wife, and quite a few of their servants came down with severe influenza.”
“Why don’t they postpone the Fete?” asked Jessica.
“No, the Fete must go on, there are so many other participants; everything is arranged – the roundabout, the tea tents, and quite a few performances by the locals. As for Miss Tudor, we cannot reach her even if we tried. She is somewhere in South America, finishing the shooting of her latest film, Fever in Peru, which is about the doomed love affair between Simon Bolivar, the Liberator, and a raven-haired Spanish noblewoman who deserts her people to help him during the revolution. I understand that her dying scene at the end of the film, as she commands Bolivar to leave her body in the jungle and go on to his glorious fate, will be considered the crown of her career to date. She is coming with her new leading man, Hank Granite.”
“Heavens, what a name! An American, I imagine.”
“Of course it is not his real name, Miss Dean. You know how they usually change the names of film stars to fit some glamorous idea. However, he is not an American at all. You may even know him, his name is Edmond Keith. He is a London relation of the Keith family, and Sir Noel Merton introduced him to the Bishop and Miss Tudor while attending a party, I believe. So Mr. Edmond is coming with Miss Tudor for the Fete.”
“What a treat for the populace, having the great Glamora and a handsome boy. I imagine he will stay with Lady Merton, but where will Glamora stay? I cannot imagine her getting on too well with Lydia.”
“They will both be staying at Pomfret Towers. It is a most delicate situation, since Mrs. Hermione Rivers is also coming. As soon as she heard that Miss Tudor is opening the Fete, Mrs. Rivers invited herself to Pomfret Towers. She said she had her heart set on meeting Miss Tudor. It seems that Mrs. Rivers thinks she could persuade Miss Tudor to develop one of her books into a film script, and then act in it. It is her newest book, Send Me No Lilies. I understand she is bringing the book with her for Miss Tudor.”
“It won’t happen, Merry. Glamora will never consent to play a middle-aged woman. In all her films she has played a girl between twenty and thirty, even though she is now well past the age of discretion… and you know that all of Mrs. Rivers’ heroines are middle-aged women who are having unconsummated affairs with younger men. And even though all of Glamora’s leading men are younger, it is not admitted in public. Do you know what the book is about?”
“Yes, I have read it in preparation for seeing Mrs. Rivers. She would naturally expect me to show an interest. The story is about the wife of a horticul
tural mogul, who is also an Earl and a Member of Parliament. His flowers are shipped all over the world. She is a beautiful, though reserved woman, who feels that her husband is so involved with all his activities that he has long ceased to pay attention to her deep and delicate feelings. She still loves him, but she is quite unhappy and lonely. One day, at an embassy ball, she meets an incredibly handsome young man of mystery. He won’t tell her who he is, but they spend an enchanting evening together, walking by the river. He only reveals that he is boarding the Orient Express on urgent business two days later. She is so intrigued that she decides to board the same train, without telling him. It goes on from there.”
“The usual story, then. But it should all be rather amusing. Why are you so worried? Surely Sally can handle these two divas?”
“This is the problem, Miss Dean. Lady Pomfret is away, in Italy, visiting some relatives for the first time in decades. There is a reconciliation going on, so she cannot cut her visit short. Lord Pomfret will have to entertain these two ladies without a hostess! He is too busy and not well enough to do so. I placed a trunk call to Lady Pomfret in Rome, and she suggested that I invite you to be the hostess. She feels that you are the only one who could resolve it.”
“I know Glamora slightly,” said Jessica, considering. “We have met a few times, mostly at the Wigwam. Yes, she will devour poor Gillie for breakfast, and Hermione will goad her into frenzy with her allusions to age. Yes, I see you really need me. However, I must bring someone with me. A young cousin of Aubrey is on a school holiday which she is spending with us, but Aubrey had to go to Hollywood. A producer is interested in turning some of Aubrey’s plays into films. A big studio, but I must confess I forgot the producer’s name.”
“Why, Miss Dean! This is so kind. We would love to have Mr. Clover’s cousin, and I have no words to tell you how grateful I am for your help.”
The sun shone brightly on the monstrous building as Jessica and Aubrey’s young cousin, Emma Lover, pulled into the driveway. Lord Pomfret and Miss Merriman came out to welcome them.
“So kind of you to come, Jessica,” said Lord Pomfret. “I don’t know how I would have dealt with this situation without you.”
“Emma and I will love it,” Jessica said cheerfully. “Everyone, meet Miss Emma Lover.” They shook hands with the charming eighteen year old girl, a pretty, slim creature with cloudy dark hair and brilliant dark eyes.
“Now, Gillie, stop worrying and leave everything to me,” said Jessica. “When is she coming?”
“Who, Miss Tudor or Hermione?”
“Both. Or should I say either?”
“Miss Tudor is arriving this afternoon. Hermione should arrive tomorrow,” said Miss Merriman. “I will take you to your rooms to get settled, and then we can have lunch.”
“And plan our strategy,” said Jessica, laughing, as they went upstairs.
A huge white car stopped in the driveway, and an extremely handsome, tall young man, boasting blue eyes, black hair, and the square jaw that was de rigueur for all of Glamora Tudor’s leading men, stepped out of it. Elegantly, he handed out a blonde vision in a blue summer suit, wearing shoes whose heels were so high that the other ladies looked at them with suspicion, expecting the gorgeous vision to fall flat on its face. But Glamora Tudor apparently thought nothing of them. She could most likely negotiate them in the jungle, let alone on a smooth driveway. A cloud of delicate, expensive perfume wafted through the air. The orange-red lipstick named “Hibiscus Frenzy” that was produced by a giant American corporation, which Glamora was paid to wear so that every factory and office girl in England and America and possibly Australia who aspired to look like her would buy it, glowed under the sun.
“Jessica, darling, what are you doing here?” shrieked the famous actress. “Do introduce me to this handsome, distinguished gentleman!”
“So nice to see you, Glam, darling. This handsome and distinguished gentleman is your host, Lord Pomfret. Please also meet Miss Merriman, who runs the entire known universe, and Aubrey’s cousin, Emma.”
“Charmed,” twittered the actress. “So pleased to meet all of you.” She eyed the young, lovely Emma with some hostility, and then took Lord Pomfret’s arm, hanging on it rather heavily as evidenced by Lord Pomfret wincing in some pain. “And I want you to meet my leading man, Hank Granite. We had such a marvelous time in the jungles of South America!”
“Please call me Edmond,” said the young man to Emma, who stood behind as the adults walked into the house. “In Barsetshire, I am much better known as Edmond Keith than as Hank Granite. Can you imagine such a name? It’s humiliating.”
“I know, but you have to put up with such things if you want to have a film career,” said Emma calmly.
“But I am not really interested in a film career,” said Edmond. “At least, I am not interested in acting. I had the opportunity when Sir Noel Merton introduced me, much against his better judgment, to the Bishop and Glamora at a party, and she took a liking to me. I just did it for the money. I wanted to finance my own studies – my father is not very wealthy – I want to learn how to write plays. For the stage, primarily, but of course I won’t mind writing scripts for Hollywood, should such an opportunity ever arise.”
“Does Miss Tudor realize that?”
“Who cares? She only makes one film with each leading man. I will be free after Fever in Peru is released and all the promotion is over.”
“Are you sure of that? Is it not possible that she would like to retain you for a second film?”
“Well, it never happened before, so I can’t imagine why she would want me again.”
“If you want to write plays, I must introduce you to my cousin, Aubrey Clover,” said Emma.
“I worship your cousin’s plays,” said Edmond. “Style, class, beauty, wit... I can go on forever talking about him. Yes, please, I would very much like to meet him. And of course, Miss Dean is an incredible actress, and does full justice to his plays. Such talent. Next to her, Glamora is… well, I don’t know what she is like, but honestly, I can’t stand the woman. On top of everything else, do you know she made great friends with the Bishop’s wife? I had to sit with them for an entire evening at the Bishop’s hotel. They gave me practically nothing to eat.”
“Well, that explains a lot,” said Emma. “I have never met the Bishop or his wife, but I understand that she is a Beast.”
Tea was served under the trees, the unusually warm weather making it a real pleasure. Miss Merriman felt a deep gratitude to Providence that for once had consented to give the tired English people a real summer. Of course, there were those who complained that it was too hot and dry, but all sensible people appreciated the warmth and the deep blue sky. The nasturtiums that Sally had so cleverly used instead of bedding begonias glowed under the sun, and the Green River, that marvelous grass path created so long ago, meandered beautifully into the distance.
Glamora Tudor came down a little late, making an entrance into the garden. She wore a distinctive red and black New Look dress, which unfortunately emphasized a waist that was no longer the eighteen inch phenomenon, so widely publicized when she played the Southern belle in the film Lincoln, My Beloved with her then leading man, Bob Flint, telling the story of beautiful Tara, Abraham Lincoln’s estranged love from Atlanta, whose stormy relationship with Lincoln was the real reason behind the Civil War. She probably looks her best under artificial lights, thought Jessica. The bright sunlight shows too many tiny wrinkles. Herself wearing simple though elegant country clothes and flat, good leather shoes, Jessica decided that knowing Glamora Tudor helped one feel better about aging gracefully. Of course it wouldn’t happen for many years, but Jessica made a pact with herself that when she got older she would never try to pretend to be an ingénue, nor wear a red orange lipstick.
“Miss Tudor,” said Lord Pomfret, “a relative of mine is coming to stay for a few days, just to meet you.”
“Is that so?” Glamora Tudor looked coy, lowering her long dark eyelashe
s. “Who is the gentleman?”
“It’s a lady, actually,” said Lord Pomfret. “You may have heard her name. She is the writer, Hermione Rivers.”
“Never heard of her,” said Glamora Tudor, obviously disappointed that it was a mere woman who wished to know her. “I don’t have much time to read books, what with all the millions of scripts I am being sent every day.”
“She gets no scripts,” whispered Edmond to Emma. “They are sent to her agent. She would not have a clue which one to choose…” Emma laughed. “Let’s go take a walk in the garden,” she suggested. “May we go for a walk, Cousin Jessica? We have both finished our teas.”
“Certainly,” said Jessica, smiling at the girl’s good manners. “A nice child,” said Miss Tudor, looking suspiciously as the girl was leading her own leading man away.
“Hardly a child,” said Jessica. “At her age I was already on the stage, vamping the audience.”
“But it was different for you, Jessica. You were an Actress,” said Miss Tudor peevishly. “We are exposed to the world much earlier than your little country girls…”
“Well,” said Lord Pomfret, “I might as well warn you, Miss Tudor. Mrs. Rivers wants to show you her latest book. She thinks it has the perfect part for you.”
“Oh, they all do,” sighed Glamora and looked at her host through her eyelashes. “They all do. They never let me rest…”
The next day the party was lingering over breakfast, except Glamora, who did not come down at all. According to the housemaid, who was sent down with a message, she preferred to have her breakfast in bed.
