Long Acre

by Claire Rayner

  It was as a result of this chatter that she now found herself here. Oliver had reminded her that Felix was a physician working at the Middlesex Hospital, and had told her without undue prompting — or any suspicion that she had a special interest in the knowledge — precisely where the hospital was. So that this morning she had been able to tell Fenton she had the headache, and send him off to rehearsal alone, leaving her to sally forth, wearing her rather daring cherry-red mantle over a deep blue gown and her brand new fur-trimmed, flat-crowned hat with its elegantly curly brim, feeling every inch the lady of fashion.

  All of which had sustained her until she had arrived in the courtyard of the hospital and realized just how shamefully she was behaving. And how foolishly. She had decided that Mr Felix Laurence was to receive an explanation, that he was to be told. But told what? And how could she frame any explanation of how she had been feeling this past week? And why should she? It was all too discouraging and now almost in tears, as her spirits slithered down from the heights in which she had been able to maintain them all morning, she stood up and began to thrust her hands back into their soft kid gloves. She would go and she would rehearse and she would tell herself that Mr Felix Laurence was a totally unimportant person, and one in whom she had no further interest.

  ‘Why, Miss Lucas!’ The voice came from behind her and she stood very still, feeling her face suffuse to a rich crimson. ‘It is Miss Lucas, is it not?’ the voice said insistently. ‘I do not think I am mistaken.’

  She took a deep breath and turned, doing her best to put on an insouciant smile. ‘Indeed it is, Mr Laurence. Good morning.’

  He stood there looking at her with his head a little to one side and his face as friendly as she had remembered it. His eyes were slightly narrowed as he smiled, and the cheerful glint she remembered most was very much in evidence. Perhaps, she told herself, with a sudden lift of spirits, perhaps he has quite forgotten how it was, and is not at all disgusted with me? a thought which cheered her so that she smiled now without any effort at all, and poured every atom of charm she had into it.

  ‘I am surprised to see you here, of all places,’ he said, still as pleasant as ever, and then looked round at the busy hall. ‘I collect you are here with Mr — ah — your friend from Nellie’s? Your coachman friend?’

  At once her mercurial spirits sank again. He had remembered! That hateful, shameful scene on the snowy steps in Tavistock Square was as vivid to him as it was to her. She was plunged back into the misery that had plagued her all week, and as he turned back to look at her his expression changed for the first time and he said in some alarm, ‘Miss Lucas! Are you well? What has happened? You look quite — quite desolated!’

  She swallowed and opened her lips to speak, and closed them again and bent her head, presenting a picture of confusion and distress that would have touched any heart, and he put out one hand and said quietly, ‘I think perhaps you had better sit down — come along. There is a quiet place just round the corner here —’

  She let him lead her, not looking where she was going, and trying to collect her emotions. It was not easy. His hand on her arm made her feel quite extraordinarily excited and yet shy at the same time, and although her embarrassment and confusion were undoubtedly real, deep underneath these emotions lay others; pleasure at being with this young man and hope that she would be with him a great deal more and sheer lifting exhilaration. All of which were feelings she could not quite understand; and why should she? For all that she had excited these same emotions in a great many male breasts in her time, Miss Amy Lucas herself had never experienced them.

  ‘Now!’ He pushed her firmly but not urgently down onto a bench, and then sat down beside her, turning his body so that he could look at her. ‘Just what is the matter? Why did you look so distressed in the hall? Is there anything I can do to help you or your friends?’

  ‘I — I came to see you,’ she said in a low voice and bent her head to look again at her gloved hands, clasped on her lap and with the fingers twining and untwining restlessly. But she could not forbear to peep up at him from beneath her lashes, and as she caught his glance reddened yet again, and looked away.

  ‘To see me? That is very kind in you, but is this not a — well, a strange way in which to make a morning call? I am working here, you know! I do not enjoy the luxury of time in which to make and accept mere social calls!’

  Stung, she lifted her chin. ‘Neither do I!’ she snapped. ‘I am far from being a lady of leisure, Mr Laurence! I am in fact working as an actress now, and should be at rehearsal this very instant!’

  ‘Ah, yes. The rehearsal for my cousin’s show — I am told he has devised a very pretty dance for you! You are acting as well, you say? Now, that I had not been told —’

  ‘Oh, you — you wretched man! So suppose my part is all dancing! It is not such a terrible thing, after all, and —’

  He raised his eyebrows a little. ‘But I agree, totally! I never said it was. It was you, as I recall, who felt it was such a dreadful thing for an actress to dance for her living. Ah, well, let us not quarrel over that. Tell me instead why you are here, if you are not paying social calls which I wouldn’t be able to accept in any case. Are you seeking some medical advice? I would have expected you to go to Nellie’s for such help as that —’

  ‘No, I am not seeking medical advice! I told you, I came to see you —’

  ‘Alone? That is even more strange! Or is your friend, Mr — ah — I am afraid I forget his name. Indeed, I seem to recall we were not precisely introduced —’

  Once more she felt distress rise in her, overcoming the spark of irritation as well as the pleasure in his company she had been feeling and her face reddened yet again.

  ‘It is — it is in part because of — because of that evening that I am here.’

  ‘Indeed?’ His face was as friendly as ever, his smile as relaxed, but she no longer found this comforting; instead it seemed to her that he was hiding from her behind a mask and she wanted to tear it from his face and see what he was really thinking of her. This sense of isolation made her feel cold suddenly and she drew herself away from him and said as carefully as she could, ‘I think — it seems to me that I should tell you that I am sorry about it.’

  ‘Sorry? But why should you be sorry?’

  ‘As I recall, you had been very kind to me, Mr Laurence.’ The chill in him sharpened her own voice a little. ‘You had supported me when I had behaved quite disgracefully — for which I also wish to apologize, and now do — and then you were good enough to concern yourself with my safe return home — and —’ She stopped and swallowed and with some courage — for his face remained as inscrutably friendly as ever, quite unchanging in its expression — went on, ‘And then, you were good enough to give me the opportunity to mend my new-made and new-spoiled friendship with you. I recall it if you do not. However, at that point, Mr Foster — well —’

  ‘Ah. Yes. Mr Foster. Our coachman friend —’ he murmured.

  ‘He is not a coachman!’ She flared up at the flatness in his voice. Had he been at all scornful, put any hint of disparagement in his tone, she would have found it easier to understand, but his quiet flatness gave away nothing. ‘He is a medical student and very — very kind, and caring of my welfare, if somewhat — well, that night he behaved very foolishly, and I wished to apologize to you for it and to explain that — oh — it does not matter! I am sorry to have bothered you —’ and she stood up and glowered down at him, still sitting there on the bench.

  ‘Now, why should you apologize to me because of him?’ he said. ‘I would have thought that he owes you an apology if anyone does — or is it that you perhaps have — shall we say, treated him in such a way that his behaviour that evening becomes fully understandable and therefore forgivable?’

  ‘You are unsupportable rude, Mr Laurence! How dare you say such a thing? How dare you — I have never been so —’

  ‘Oh, now, do come down out of your high trees, Miss Lucas! I mean
t no insult, and you are foolish if you find one in my words! If we are to be friends, you must accept that I am a very direct man. I have no use for the twirlings and moppings and mowings of what is called polite society. I believe that I should say what I feel needs to be said. You came to me to apologize for another man’s behaviour — a man who, after all, means nothing to me. I do not even know him! I tried merely to suggest a reason why he might feel constrained to behave as he did. Is that something to be so agitated about?’

  ‘You accuse me of — of playing games with a man’s feelings, Mr Laurence! Or as good as did so! I say as I believe, and I believe that is something a lady is fully entitled to find offensive!’

  He laughed aloud, with real amusement in his voice, leaning back on his bench and smiling at her in such a friendly way that they might have been discussing the latest theatrical comedy rather than exchanging angry words.

  ‘But my dear Miss Lucas, I have not the least doubt that you did play with his feelings! That you have bedazzled that poor young man and confused him, and made him your slave for ever! That you try to do so with almost every man you meet, and always succeed. Or almost always! That is not so wicked a thing, after all, of which to accuse you! From my own observations of polite society, it is something young ladies are constantly trying to do. The difference between you and others is that you seem to succeed more often than most.’

  ‘How — how dare you suggest that I —’ She was mortified, and once again she felt her face filled with that surging tide of colour and could almost have wept with rage because of it.

  ‘You are right if what you are about to say is that I hardly know you well enough to count your conquests for you. But, I saw you at my cousin’s party and saw you dance and, do you know, I feel I am able to make this much of a judgement of you on the basis of that short acquaintance. You are a heartbreaker, Miss Lucas, and well you know it! You cannot really be offended because I am aware of the fact.’

  And again he laughed up at her, and this time it seemed to her that the chill was quite gone, and he was the same friendly genuinely interested person he had been the night she had met him and was, in fact, paying her a genuine if sharp-edged compliment.

  She looked at him uncertainly for a moment, and then looked down at her hands, and then again peeped up at him and said with a pretty hesitation, ‘I do not know quite what to say, Mr Laurence —’

  He threw his head back and positively shouted with laughter this time. ‘There! You see? You are trying your tricks with me now! You are unable to behave otherwise! No wonder your poor Mr Foster was so —’

  Now she could not find any answer at all and after one furious glare at him turned and marched away down the corridor that lay ahead, pulling her cherry-red mantle about her with what shreds of dignity she could. He was insufferable, she hated him, she could not imagine why she had wasted her time or her consideration on him and she was going to rehearsal. Immediately.

  ‘You are going the wrong way, Miss Lucas!’ he called after her. ‘Unless, that is, you wish to find yourself in the hospital lecture room. If you seek the street, then you must return this way!’

  She stopped, and hesitated, and turned after a moment and came marching back, her chin up and her eyes staring resolutely ahead, but as she reached his bench he came easily to his feet and put out his hand and gently took her hand, and with one smooth movement turned to face the same direction and tuck her hand into the crook of his elbow.

  ‘Now, let us have no more of this! I am indeed very pleased you should have bothered to come and see me, and tell me about poor Mr Foster —’

  ‘Stop calling him poor Mr Foster! You make him sound like a — like a — puppy-dog!’

  ‘Well, that is perhaps not so false an idea at that — however, no more. He is forthwith plain Mr Foster, and no longer poor in my eyes. Let me say again, I am pleased you should have come. I think we could be good friends, and I would be happy if we were, as long as you realize that I am not a man who is interested in the pretty tricks of the stage, or the drawing-room, come to that. I am a direct person, Miss Lucas, and I tell you in my direct way that I like you. I think you have some wit and not a little good sense in you, if one can but find it. I hope we can continue to know each other without quarrelling. There now! Is that not what you came to arrange with me?’

  Indeed it was, but she was far too mortified to say so, and walked on beside him in silence as he led her across the crowded hallway, toward the hospital’s main door.

  ‘I am shortly to attend in the wards, Miss Lucas,’ he said, ‘and so cannot make time to find you a hackney to see you safe home. And the streets are still very snowy, are they not? I would not wish to see your elegant toilette spoiled by the weather for want of a little care on my part, however, so I must see if I can find someone else who will — ah!’

  He stopped suddenly, and she, perforce, stopped too, and tried to draw her hand away from the crook of his elbow, determined to show not only him but all those about them that she was aloof and unconcerned about him; but he, with no apparent effort, maintained his hold on her hand, and she could not, without an unseemly struggle, extricate herself. So she stood still, and looked across at the man at whom Felix was now beckoning with his other hand.

  ‘Charles!’ he called, and above the chatter that surrounded them the other man heard him and turned his head, and after a moment smiled broadly and made his way through the groups of people to their side.

  ‘Why, hello, Felix! How are you? It’s good to see you —’

  ‘I am well, I thank you, Charles. But my young friend here is in need of your aid. Miss Lucas, may I present Mr Charles Wyndham, a physician of this hospital at present, and but lately returned home from your own country. Charles, this is Miss Amy Lucas, of Boston, who is visiting England and shortly to appear in my cousin Oliver’s show at the Supper Rooms in King Street.’

  Amy bent her head with some regality; she was still simmering with anger at Felix Laurence’s behaviour and was hardly aware of the man standing before her and bowing with some theatricality.

  ‘I am enchanted to make your acquaintance, Miss Lucas! Particularly so as I have not only visited your country — indeed, I was involved in my own small way with your late hostilities, and happy indeed that I was able to contribute in some measure to the success of the Union — but because I am very interested in the theatre.’

  ‘Indeed, Mr Wyndham? How interesting.’ She tried again to pull her hand from Felix’s elbow, but he merely smiled down at her and held on, and she glared at him and turned to Charles Wyndham to bestow upon him the sweetest smile she could. ‘How extremely interesting! I have never before met a physician who sometimes acts.’

  ‘Ah, Miss Lucas, it is quite the other way about! I am an actor who sometimes physics!’ He smiled widely at her, and his full-lipped mouth was very mobile, and yet very studied in its movements. ‘At present, I do not scruple to tell you, I am here at the hospital only because I cannot find a good management to offer me work more suited to me. But as soon as may be, I shall be back on the boards, that is quite certain!’

  She looked at him with real interest now, noting his sleek dark hair and very lustrous dark brown eyes. He looked about thirty, self-assured and relaxed.

  ‘I too, Mr Wyndham, I too. My present engagement is far from being as — as satisfactory as it should be. Supper Rooms, you know — singing and dancing — far from my usual interest, I do assure you!’ And she threw a sideways glance at Felix to see how he had taken this gibe at the activities of a member of his family. But he merely smiled agreeably back at her.

  ‘I am sure you will have much to talk about with Charles, Miss Lucas. But at present, as I say, I must make my way about my business. Charles, will you be so good as to find Miss Lucas a hackney carriage? She is on her way to the Supper Rooms, dislike them though she may! And needs some conveyance.’

  ‘At once. With the greatest of pleasure, Miss Lucas.’ Charles turned to go.

&nb
sp; ‘One moment, Charles — I have a thought — as I say, you and Miss Lucas have much in common. Perhaps you will join us at a small dinner party at Bedford Row? Nothing very special, you know — Miss Lucas and her brother, also an actor, yourself, and perhaps my cousins. You remember the Misses Henriques? I introduced you at a tea party my Aunt Martha gave, I recollect.’

  ‘Of course I recall them. Charming ladies, both — but not, may I venture to say, as charming as your present companion, Laurence! Indeed it will be my pleasure to accept. Dinner, you say? Upon which evening?’

  Felix turned to Amy, his eyebrows cocked inquiringly. ‘The day, Miss Lucas! You have but to choose. I am sure that everyone else will fit in easily. Yourself and your brother are free — when?’

  ‘I really cannot speak for my brother, Mr Laurence,’ Amy said stiffly. ‘He is a busy person, you know, and —’

  ‘Well, perhaps I shall seek him out myself and arrange matters with him, then. I noticed that he found Miss Isabel Henriques’ company agreeable, and I am sure he will make efforts to find time for us —’

  Knowing full well what Fenton’s reaction would be should he discover that such an invitation on his behalf had been extended to her and not seized forthwith, Amy capitulated. She knew when she was defeated; and anyway, accepting it would mean she would see this tiresome, infuriating, altogether hateful Felix Laurence again. Which, she told herself stoutly, she wished to do entirely in order to put him firmly in his place.