Truth and Beauty

by Christina Britton Conroy

  She gasped. “So that’s the scar on your chest.”

  “Yeah, it was kind o’ like last night. I was bleeding like a pig. At the hospital I refused to lie down and it made the doctor crazy. Then, when I was fresh out of the hospital, a society matron was giving a gala birthday party for a foreign friend. My story made me the hottest new thing in town so I was invited. I didn’t want to go, but my girl Rebecca made me.

  “We got to the party, and you were the guest of honour. You were wondrous.”

  Isabelle chuckled, stretched and yawned. “I turned thirty that night. Soon, I’ll be thirty-three.” She felt his cheek. “You’re flushed but there’s no fever.” I’ll get you that tea, and some food.”

  He stared lovingly as she glided out the door.

  *

  Elly and Sam passed the next two days sleeping, reading, eating, and talking. They gained strength and felt restless. Sam appreciated Lord Richfield’s luxurious hospitality, but missed the privacy of his rented rooms. He had the material for his serialized story, Episode II: the painting of Autumn Lady and Episode III: Elly’s first month in London. She was finally ready to tell him Episode IV: the abduction.

  Elly was still bruised and sore. Just turning from side-to-side was painful. Her dreams were often frightening, but she no longer screamed in her sleep. She was frantic to get back to rehearsals before they replaced her with another pretty girl. Constantly rereading THE TEMPEST, she memorized everyone’s part.

  Rory visited as often as he could, and kept her up-to-date on rehearsals. “It’s amazing. Jerry used to give us a sketchy description of what he wanted, then scream when we got it wrong. Now, instead of torturing us, making us play it over-and-over, he glares at Miss Stewart, yells, ‘Katie, fix it!’ and moves to the next scene.

  “She takes his notes, and between rehearsals, carefully explains what he wants. When he watches the scene again, we do it right. He stares and says nothing.” Rory shook his head in disgust. “His way of complimenting Miss Stewart is to say nothing. You know he’s the only one who calls her Katie. She’s Kathy to her other friends. At first we were afraid to even say, ‘Katie.’ Now, we all yell, ‘Katie, fix it!’ every time something goes wrong. It’s become a mantra.”

  *

  After the Sunday matinee, Jeremy stayed at the theatre for a meeting about smoke effects with Jamie Jamison. Pyrotechnics were needed for lightning during the storm, and island mists.

  The Richfield family invited Katherine, Evan, Rory, Robert Dennison, Sam, and Elly for tea. Katherine studied the pale green bruises on Elly’s face. “Don’t worry darling, you’ll soon be as beautiful as ever. You’ll probably look better.” She trilled a laugh. “Our faces are the reflection of our experiences, and the more experiences we have, the more interesting we look.”

  Little girls Lucy, Cindy, and Bella rushed in, hugging Elly all at once. She hugged and kissed them in turn. Lucy whispered, “It’s going to be fun, your living here. You’ll be like a big sister.”

  “You’re right.” Elly giggled. “It will be fun.”

  Over tea, Sir William chuckled as his young daughters competed for Evan’s attention. Quite the little gentleman, Evan loved the female adoration.

  Katherine talked about rehearsals for THE TEMPEST. “Everyone’s been terribly worried about Elly. It’s remarkable. They all ask after her and send regards.”

  Elly sighed happily. “I have so many sweet notes and gifts in my room. “I have a lot of thank-you notes to write.”

  Katherine buttered a scone. “Wednesday morning, when you hadn’t shown up for rehearsal, Jerry was livid. Then Isabelle called, hoping you were with us. Of course, no one knew where you were. Jerry was so disturbed, he dismissed us an hour early. Can you imagine Jeremy O’Connell cutting a rehearsal short?” she laughed. “He may have felt guilty for wanting to scold you.”

  Elly was terrified of asking, “Has anyone been doing my part?”

  Katherine and Rory burst out laughing. Rory said, “Actually, Meg’s been standing in.”

  Elly’s mouth dropped open, picturing the buxom, over-painted bleached blond.

  Katherine laughed so hard she could barely speak. “She’s exactly the opposite of the lithe nymph Jerry has in his mind. Meg knows she’s all wrong, but she’s the only unpaid, unemployed female body available. Watching Prospero gaze up to what’s supposed to be his higher consciousness, and then close his eyes in dismay, is terribly funny. Eventually, we have to engage a proper understudy for you. When are you coming back?”

  “Tuesday.”

  Isabelle raised an eyebrow. “Only if the doctor says you’re strong enough.”

  Katherine scowled. “Seriously, the sooner the better.”

  Miss Caldwell, Lord Richfield’s typewriter, appeared with her shorthand book. Evan and the little girls went upstairs. Sir William, Rory, and Robert retired to the smoking room. Sam, Isabelle, Katherine, and Elly followed Miss Caldwell into the drawing room.

  Katherine took Elly aside. “I know this is going to be hard for you. If you’d rather I didn’t hear it, I won’t stay.”

  Elly trembled. “Would you like to stay?”

  Katherine shrugged. “I care about you. I’d like to know what happened.”

  Elly nodded. “Then, please stay.” She looked at Sam. “The whole world will know in a few days, anyway.”

  Sam nodded. “At least a few weeks.” His dark blue eyes were dancing and Elly smiled back.

  Per Sam’s design, he and Elly sat in cushioned chairs across from each other. Elly’s ankle was propped up on a low stool. A pile of handkerchiefs sat next to her. Isabelle, Katherine, and Miss Caldwell sat behind, with strict orders not to make a sound.

  With his good hand, Sam pushed the hair from his eyes, and positioned the plaster cast so it rested on the arm of the chair.

  Elly grimaced. “Poor Sam. Does it hurt very much?”

  “I don’t know anymore, I’m used to it.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Her throat tightened and she closed her eyes.

  “You’re not to blame, but go ahead and keep your eyes closed. Just relax. Now, in your own time… Tell me about last Wednesday morning.”

  For almost two hours, Sam calmly and insistently asked Elly questions. He sensed each time she left out a painful detail, and pushed her to squeeze out every possible memory of that frightful day.

  Sitting behind Elly, Miss Caldwell scribbled madly, filling page after page in her shorthand book. Katherine and Isabelle sat tensely, listening to the ghastly story. Occasionally they reached forward to comfort Elly, and Sam shot them threatening looks, making them sit back. Katherine squirmed, hearing about Peg and Tommy, two actors she knew well and once cared about. She barely remembered a large, handsome supernumerary named Mick.

  The story ended with Sir John’s boot catching the hoop of Elly's skirt and pulling her out the window. Sam knew the rest.

  When it was over, everyone was exhausted.

  Sam smiled. “Well done, sweetheart.” He winked an eye. “Thanks.”

  Elly sat very still. A shroud of heavy sadness had swallowed her completely.

  Miss Caldwell stretched her cramped fingers. With half-closed eyes, she asked, “Mr. Smelling, how soon do you need this typed?”

  “How soon can you do it? I know it’s a lot.”

  “Sir William told me your work should take priority. I’ll have most of it by tomorrow night.”

  “That would be great, thanks.”

  Miss Caldwell spoke to Elly. “You’re a brave girl, Miss Fielding. Good night, M’ Lady, Miss Stewart.” She rubbed her eyes, opened the wide double doors, and left the room.

  The clink of billiard balls sounded from the games room and Isabelle tilted her head. “Elly, your beaux are still here. Why don’t you let them cheer you up?”

  “No, thank you.” Elly blew her nose. “After all this crying, I must look horrible.”

  Sam shook his head. “Vanity, vanity.” He stood up and wobbled to keep his b
alance. “If you ladies will excuse me, I’m about to fall asleep. I’d better find a bed to do it in. Good night.” He started down the hall.

  Elly called after him, “I’m coming too.” She lowered her sore ankle from the stool, and was careful not to make a face as she stepped on it. She had to convince Isabelle it didn’t hurt.

  Elly and Sam started up the stairs together. He stopped halfway and leaned against the railing. “You were great down there. Thanks.”

  She stared at the floor. “You’re welcome.”

  “You went through a lot and you’ll probably be feeling pretty sad for a while. It might be good if you went back down and had some company.”

  Elly sighed and shook her head. “You’re sweet, but I need to be alone right now.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I’m terribly tired.”

  “I know you’re tired.” He winked. “Just give your guys a half-hour. They deserve it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “All right.”

  He led her to the games room and leaned in the doorway. “Fellas, I’ve got a present for you.” He gently pushed her inside.

  Rory and Robert dropped their billiard cues and raced to the door.

  Half-asleep, Sam staggered back past the drawing room. Isabelle shovelled coal onto the fireplace. “Isabelle, surely you have servants enough to do that?” He tottered into the room.

  She stirred the coals. “I thought you were going to sleep.”

  “Katherine and Evan gone home?”

  “Hmm.” She nodded. “She took some Opium Lettuce tea for Jerry, says he hasn’t slept in days. Pull the bell, Sam, I want some cocoa. Join me?”

  He laughed a giddy, sleepy laugh. “Cocoa? What a terribly comforting idea.” He pulled the cord. Within moments a servant appeared.

  The fire started to draw, and Isabelle sat on the sofa, watching the crackling coals. She slipped off her shoes, stretching her long legs.

  He sat down next to her. “Isn’t it unusual for Lady Richfield to be spending so many evenings at home?”

  “It’s totally absurd. I haven’t been home this many nights in a row since my last confinement. What a bore that was. Even when the children are ill, I only nurse them through the worst. Then, I leave them to the nannies.”

  “You spend a lot more time with your children than most women -- of your class.”

  “I do. But they’re so marvellous. I really don’t understand women who go through all the horror of pregnancy and childbirth, only to ignore their children until they’re seventeen. My mother kept us around her all the time. She’s a truly great herbalist -- a marvellous teacher. She even kept Ned schooled at home until he was ten. You’ve never met my little brother, the dashing Sir Edward Hereford.”

  “He mailed Elly’s letter from Paris.”

  She chuckled, “Yes.”

  “Sounds like a man with a sense of adventure.”

  “And a sense of humour. You’ll like each other. He’s coming for THE TEMPEST.”

  “Good. Does your family know Elly’s becoming your ward?”

  “Yes, I’ve written everyone.”

  “What do they think?”

  “They’re surprised.”

  A servant arrived with the cocoa. Sam tasted the hot, sweet creamy chocolate. “God, that’s good.”

  Isabelle sipped her cocoa, sat back, and breathed deeply. “I’m surprised myself, about Elly.” She smiled. “The only one who doesn’t seem to be surprised is Bill. He said that he expected it.” She shook her head. “I have no idea why that girl’s become so important to me. No rational idea. She’s darling, of course, but that doesn’t account for it. The morning she was abducted, I called my solicitor and told him to draw up the papers. At the time, it seemed like the most logical thing in the world. I’m glad I did it, but it was certainly impulsive.”

  Sam leaned his cheek on the sofa, happily listening to her. Even the way she sipped cocoa was sweetly sensual. “So, you don’t think Elly’s your cousin?”

  “I’d love that to be true, but how can we ever know?”

  Sam’s eyes were half-closed. “You’ve been like a crusader through all this. Absolutely fabulous.”

  “Elly’s been fabulous.” She shook her head. “Hearing her story just now, I’m not sure I could have gotten through an ordeal like that. Do you think she’ll be all right?”

  “She’ll be fine. I left her in the games room with the guys.” Sam’s eyes squeezed shut and his face contorted with pain. He put his hand on his chest.

  Isabelle sat forward, “What is it?”

  His face relaxed and he took a deep breath. “It’s gone… Comes and goes… The doctor’s watching it.” Tears filled her eyes and he smiled. “I’m flattered you care so much.”

  She let out a sigh. “I do care about you, a great deal.” He raised an eyebrow and she looked away. “Sam, listen to me. I’m the luckiest woman I know. I…”

  “We make our own luck.”

  “Perhaps, but I have everything a woman could want.” She sipped her cocoa, her brows drawn together. “A friend once asked if Bill had ever been cruel to me. I found the question absurd. I can’t imagine him being anything but gentle and kind. Elly was continually abused by men. Men who felt it was their right.” She finished her cocoa and stood up. “I’m tired.”

  He watched her, hoping she would say more.

  Finally, she half-whispered, “Sam, I adore you. Please, let’s leave it at that. Get some sleep. If that pain persists, send for the doctor.”

  He nodded, then saluted with one finger. “Good night… little mother.” She looked surprised and he smiled. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

  She smiled and went upstairs, the dark-blue of his eyes lingering in her mind.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tuesday morning at 9:45, Sir William’s driver delivered Elly to the stage door of His Majesty’s Theatre. She ached all over, but lied and said she felt well. Dr Cummings believed her. Isabelle did not. She allowed Elly to go to rehearsal, but not return to Darry House with the other apprentices.

  Elly promised she would sleep at Hamilton Place, be driven to the theatre each morning, and brought straight home afterwards. She loved the Richfields, but felt very guilty she was no longer poor. Going hungry had been horrible, but everyone at Mrs. Potter’s Boarding House had been hungry. Darry House served proper meals, apprentices were no longer starving, but they still received no wages. Would they still like her, now that she lived in a mansion with servants?

  The driver held the car door and Elly scurried inside the stage door. Quick as her sore ankle allowed, she greeted the stage-doorkeeper, and carefully climbed the stairs to the noisy rehearsal room. Actors and crew joked and studied their scripts. Lester, Todd, and Eddy Edwards set up platforms to approximate the stage set. Lester was the first to see Elly. He let out a war whoop, ran over, and lifted her off the ground. She loved it, but her shoulder hurt and she whimpered.

  He quickly put her down. “Oh, I forgot you’re injured. I’m so sorry.”

  She laughed, slowly rotating her sore shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m glad you’re happy to see me.”

  “Happy?” He beamed. “I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my entire life.”

  A dozen actors and crew surrounded her. They all talked at once.

  “IF IT’S TOO LARGE, CUT IT DOWN OR MAKE A NEW ONE!” Jeremy O’Connell’s voice boomed down the corridor. “I STILL DON’T CARE WHAT IT COSTS!” A hush fell over the hall. “I STILL WANT THAT BLOODY MOUNTAIN!”

  Owen Richards put a hand over his eyes. “That’s a perfect opening line for the week.”

  Ross Hamlin crossed himself and comically prayed, “Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison…”

  Michael called out, “Katie, fix it!” and there was sniggering all around.

  Rory closed his eyes. “Thank God Elly’s back. Maybe she’ll help his mood.”

  Ross scurried to Elly’s side. “Aren’t you lovely. I’
m Ross.”

  Quick feminine footsteps announced Katherine Stewart’s arrival. “Morning all.” She saw Elly. “Welcome back dear, as you can see, nothing’s changed.” She hurried to the director’s table and set out diagrams.

  Jeremy’s clipped step approached the door and a dozen actors held their breath. He charged in, made a sharp quarter turn in Elly’s direction, and stared at her. She trembled. He had only engaged her because she was pretty. Now her face was bruised. Would he sack her?

  He narrowed his eyes, walked up to her, put a hand under her chin, and studied her face.

  She forced herself to look him in the eye.

  His grimace relaxed. “Thank God you’re safe.” He kissed her forehead and walked to the table. “Act Two, Scene One ladies and gentlemen, if you please.” A dozen actors scurried into place.

  *

  Throughout the week, Katherine and Eddy put Elly into scenes that had been staged while she was away. In two scenes she played Ariel’s double, and she loved working with Michael. The rest of the time she was what Jeremy called, “a symbol for all that is beautiful on the island: Miranda’s innocence, Prospero’s magic, and all those things that must be left behind.” She had to be in specific places, standing, sitting, or reclining in specific poses, on specific dialogue cues. Sometimes she was to freeze like stone. Other times she travelled around the stage. She learned quickly, moved with catlike grace, and seldom missed a cue.

  Katherine directed Elly always to concentrate on Prospero. Elly loved watching Jeremy. She thought his every move was like poetry, and every word from his rich voice was like sweet music.

  Jeremy gave her very few corrections and seemed to forget she was on the stage. Since he ignored her, she felt sure he was displeased. What was she doing wrong? If she knew, she could improve. Desperate to gain his approval, her eyes darted fearfully, and her body was tight as a rubber band.

  During one long rehearsal, Eddy called a break. The actors scattered for a few minutes rest. Elly found a quiet spot on the stairs. Lester played a schoolboy joke. Sneaking behind her, he covered her eyes with his hands. She screamed and he leapt back. “My God! I’m so sorry.” He sat next to her clutching her flailing arms. “I’m sorry. It was only a joke.”