by Mary Nichols
‘It is too bad of her,’ Constance said. ‘I never did want to take a part, as you know. It is easy enough to learn lines, but that is not all there is to it, is it? I have such a little voice.’
‘But a very pleasing one,’ Lord Haverley said, gently. ‘And Mr Greatorex found no fault, did he?’
‘He knew I was only a stand-in. I cannot portray emotion in the way he does.’
‘But he is a professional actor,’ Emily Hastings said. ‘We are amateurs.’
‘That does not mean we cannot learn from him, as I have said to Lady Lavinia,’ Lord Wincote put in, smiling urbanely. ‘I have invited her ladyship to come to a performance of Romeo and Juliet with me to see how the professionals do it.’
Lavinia gasped. He was forcing her into a corner, and now James would think she had agreed and that must, in his eyes, indicate that she meant to accept Lord Wincote’s proposal of marriage as well. It was time she told him the truth. But when and how could she introduce the subject without making a great drama of it? On no account must he know that her decision was anything to do with him. It would be too mortifying.
It was then she hit on the notion of making an evening at the theatre a party for all the cast, a way of thanking them for all the hard work they had put in and to encourage them to continue to rehearse. Lord Wincote could not expect her undivided attention and she might find an opportunity to speak privately to James and tell him she had turned Lord Wincote down. ‘We could have supper at Reid’s in St Martin’s Lane afterwards,’ she said. ‘Shall we say next Wednesday? It will set us up for the twenty-eighth.’
She dressed with more than usual care for the visit to the theatre, in a gown of pale blue mousseline de soie which had tiny puffed sleeves and an oval neckline edged with pearls. Her hair was piled up and braided with strings of pearls à la Didon, but apart from those she wore no jewellery. The skirt of her gown was short enough to reveal silk stocking-clad ankles and dainty velvet slippers. A blue velvet cape, long gloves, a silk fan and a brocade reticule completed her ensemble.
‘Lovely,’ Daisy said. ‘You will have Lord Wincote swooning with love for you.’
It was not Lord Wincote she needed to impress, though how to convey that to James without making a complete ninny of herself, she did not know. She could not come right out with it, could she? She could not say to him, ‘I love you, not as a sister, but as a woman.’ It would appall him. He would be particularly alarmed if he really was contemplating marriage to someone else. Was he? That would be the ultimate irony.
But she could not give up; it was too important. Somehow, a way must be found to make him see she was no longer the schoolgirl she had been when he first met her, that since then she had grown up, become a woman. A desirable, vibrant woman who needed him and, given the chance, could make him happy.
The Duke and Duchess, both of whom were also joining the party, were waiting for her when she went downstairs, the Duke in a black evening suit and the Duchess in a soft dove grey. Seeing her descending the staircase, both smiled. ‘I suppose, I should say you are worth waiting for,’ her father said. ‘You look very beautiful, my dear.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled and dropped him a brief curtsy.
‘Now we must be off,’ Frances said, as Duncan joined them. ‘Or we will have everyone there before us and that will not do at all. We are, after all, the hosts.’
The auditorium was already filling with noisy theatre-goers when they arrived. Some were speculating whether Lancelot Greatorex might follow some of the other theatre managers and change the performance to a specially written farce, lampooning the Royal family. Lavinia hoped he would not; her father would disapprove and he might not agree to Mr Greatorex taking part in the play at Stanmore House.
But that was not the only thing on her mind. She was thinking of James, who had not yet arrived. Everyone began taking seats and she found herself sitting between her stepmother and Lord Wincote, while the others of the party took the chairs on either side of them, spilling over into the next box, which the Duke had taken in order to accommodate everyone. It was not at all what she had intended and her disappointment was so great she could hardly concentrate on the stage as the curtain went up for the first act.
She had set such store on this evening, as though it was the key to her whole future, and the man in the forefront of her mind had not even deigned to put in an appearance. She heard the opening words of the tragedy in a numb fog of misery which enveloped her like a cocoon. It was over before it had begun, this love of hers.
Chapter Ten
James had been delayed by a visit from Donald Greenaway, who arrived only minutes before he was due to leave. The major informed him that he had been unable to trace Lady Willoughby’s diamond clips to any of the receivers he knew. ‘I am bound to say, James,’ he told him, ‘that the chances of nailing the man now are fast fading. There is not a shred of evidence so you must consider the possibility that Wincote is innocent. That is the law of the land, innocent until proved guilty, and that goes for the death of his brother as well as the theft of the jewels.’
‘Damn his hide! He has everyone wrapped about his thumb, even the Duke of Loscoe, who has told him he is prepared to pay Lady Lavinia’s dowry as soon as they are married.’
‘James, I am sorry, but are you sure you are not letting your dislike of the man cloud your judgement? Without evidence to the contrary, we must assume Wincote is genuine in his affection for Lady Lavinia and it is customary to pay the dowry upon marriage.’
‘And what about his plans to run away with Lady Rattenshaw?’
‘Run away with Lady Rattenshaw?’ Donald echoed in surprise. ‘What makes you think he was contemplating doing that?’
‘She told me so. Now it appears it is all off and he is back pressing his suit on Lavinia and toadying to the Duke and Duchess.’
‘Have you told Lady Lavinia of this?’
‘Of course not. In any case, she saw them together, but he convinced her it was all very innocent and so she has forgiven him.’
‘Then there is nothing you can do but wait and see what happens. Unless, of course, you offer for her yourself.’
‘Do you think I have not thought of that?’ he demanded irritably. ‘She would be mortified. I am her dear brother, the scapegrace who amuses her and makes her laugh.’
‘The ability to laugh together is a plus, my friend, and one many couples lack.’
‘But it is not enough.’
‘No, I suppose not, but you will never know, if you do not make the venture.’ He paused. ‘Do you wish me to continue my enquiries?’
‘Yes. Do whatever is necessary. Now, you must excuse me. I am late for the theatre.’
They shook hands and parted. It seemed to James that Edmund Wincote had got the better of him and the knowledge stuck in his throat. Now he had missed the first act and the last thing he wanted was a quarrel with Lavinia over his tardiness.
When the curtain came down for the intermission, everyone began talking about the production and how Mr Greatorex, though no longer a youth, had brought such reality to the part of Romeo that his age did not matter. Edmund, on Lavinia’s right, leaned towards her. ‘A master at work,’ he said. ‘I can never hope to emulate that.’
‘No, we none of us can, but then we are not professional actors, my lord.’ She turned and smiled at Lady Rattenshaw, who had arrived very late on the arm of Sir Percy and had apparently recovered from her indisposition. ‘Though between them, Mr Greatorex and Lady Rattenshaw have brought out the best in all of us.’
She meant her ladyship to know that she was not in the least put out by her absences from rehearsal or the fact that she had seen her in the company of the man who was supposed to be her suitor. Soon everyone would know that was not the case. And then it would all be over, the Queen’s trial and her own. If she could not pierce James’s armour, she would go home to Risley and live quietly in seclusion.
‘Oh, no, my lady, that is you,’ Edmund pro
tested. ‘Your enthusiasm and commitment are the virtues which have brought us to the pitch we are. I am persuaded we shall make a great deal of money for the Duchess’s good cause.’
‘It is very kind of you to say so.’
He seized her hand and conveyed it to his lips. ‘My lady, I shall look forward eagerly to that day and contain myself with as much patience as I can muster.’
She squirmed almost visibly. He was still hoping. ‘My lord,’ she murmured, afraid that everyone round them had heard the remark and would put quite the wrong interpretation on it. ‘I am not going to marry you. Why can’t you accept that? There are other young ladies—’
‘But only one Lady Lavinia Stanmore.’
‘Please, my lord, I beg of you. Do not press me. My mind is quite made up.’ If only James would come. She longed for him with every nerve and sinew, even though he would probably do no more than roast her. At least she could have some bantering exchange with him which, despite it breaking her heart, would nevertheless save her from having to listen to the intensely earnest man at her side, who refused to believe she meant what she said.
As if on cue, the door of the box opened and he was there, dressed in a magnificent evening suit of black brocade. His shirt-collar points, stiff as soldiers on parade, and his cravat, a froth of pristine white lace, made her wonder if he had dressed to meet a lover. He came forward, spoke briefly to the Duke and Duchess and then slid into an empty seat just behind Lavinia. ‘My lady, my apologies, I was unavoidably delayed.’
‘Was she beautiful?’ asked the imp on Lavinia’s shoulder.
‘She is beautiful,’ he said, solemnly. ‘Beyond compare.’
‘And are felicitations in order?’
‘Not yet.’
She managed an over-bright smile. ‘I have just been telling Lord Wincote that I have come to a decision…’ She paused, watching his face, but though his grey eyes momentarily darkened and a frown creased his brow that he was smiling again so quickly, she thought she must have imagined it.
‘Oh? What is that?’
‘What do you think?’ Wincote put in before she could reply.
‘I have no idea,’ James said, affecting indifference, though Wincote was clearly very pleased about it, judging by the oily smile on his face. Lavinia had accepted him! Why could the fellow not have gone off with Miss Doubleday and saved him the heartache? He looked across at the lady sitting beside Sir Percy. Had she decided she could not go through with their plan? Had Wincote guessed who she really was?
He did not hear Lavinia’s sharp intake of breath and her whispered words, saying she had something to tell him later. His mind was numb and he heard and saw little of what was happening on the stage. When the play ended and everyone was making their way out of the theatre to their carriages for the short ride to St Martin’s Lane, he contrived to fall into step beside Sir Percy and Lady Rattenshaw. ‘Percy, I have my carriage, may I offer you both a lift?’
‘I would be very glad if you would take Marianne,’ Percy said. ‘My gut has been out of sorts all day and I would prefer not to go on to supper. Make my excuses, will you?’
‘Of course. But will you be all right?’
‘Oh, yes, it’s nothing but a little colic. My housekeeper will make me up a powder. Go and enjoy yourselves.’ He turned and hailed a passing cab.
Once they had seen him safely inside, James took Lady Rattenshaw’s elbow and guided her along the road to where his coachman had the carriage waiting.
Lavinia saw them go and stood staring after them as if she could not believe her eyes. They looked so absorbed in each other, their heads close together as they walked, completely unaware of anyone around them. Was this James’s mysterious lady? She was certainly not spurning him. Even then she might have dismissed the whole notion, but she was so keyed up with her own emotions, so sensitive to everything James did, she found herself looking for other signs and of course she found them.
Both had arrived at the theatre very late and James had not denied he had been with a lady. And thinking back to Lady Rattenshaw’s first appearance and Constance’s ball, she remembered James had been very taken with her and she had teased him about it. Later, when Lavinia had been upset about seeing her ladyship with Lord Wincote, James had as good as laughed at her suspicions. No wonder, when it was not Edmund who had designs on the lady, but James. Beyond compare, he had called her. Oh, what a gudgeon she had been!
James helped Lady Rattenshaw into the carriage and climbed in beside her, saying nothing until they were on the move. ‘Now, Miss Doubleday, I need to know what happened. You were supposed to elope with Wincote.’
‘Not elope my lord, that suggests a wedding and that I never intended.’
‘Call it what you will, it did not happen.’
‘No. It was all arranged, but then he suddenly changed his mind. Oh, he was very apologetic. He told me he could not disappoint Lady Lavinia, that he was honour bound to go through with the wedding, if he were not to be ostracised by the haut monde. It seems, my lord, he is more chivalrous than you gave him credit for.’
‘No, his mind was altered by a short conversation with the Duke of Loscoe.’
‘The Duke threatened him?’
‘No such luck. He promised him Lady Lavinia’s dowry immediately on their marriage.’
‘Oh, there is little I can do to counter that.’
‘No, but I thank you for your trouble.’ He paused. ‘But you could do something else. Ask him about his family and his childhood, how well he dealt with his grandfather. Ask him in a casual way, but note his answers. He might give himself away.’
‘And the play? If I do not go to rehearsals there will be little opportunity to meet him, but with Lancelot becoming involved, I thought it best to stay away.’
‘Can you trust him? Mr Greatorex, I mean.’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Then tell him you are impersonating Lady Rattenshaw to win a wager. That way you can also continue with the play. I am sure it would break Lavinia’s heart if you should withdraw at this late stage. Where would she find another Helena half so good?’
‘Flatterer.’ She was laughing at his compliment as they left the carriage outside Reid’s, where the rest of the party was also arriving. James, handing Lady Rattenshaw down, glanced at Lavinia, who had just descended from the Loscoe carriage and was standing on the road, staring at them. She looked away immediately but not before he had seen the bleak look in her eyes and the tight set to her lips. What could she be thinking?
But he had no time to dwell upon it because everyone was making their way into the hotel dining room where a long table had been booked for them. It was not until they were all seated, that James noticed Lancelot Greatorex, sitting alone not ten feet away. It was a hotel frequented by stage people and they often came straight there from a performance, but it was too late now, Lavinia had seen him too.
‘Why, Mr Greatorex, I did not know you would be here, or I would have invited you,’ she said. ‘Please join us.’ She indicated an empty place next to Lady Rattenshaw, the one Sir Percy should have occupied.
James held his breath as the actor looked round the company and his gaze rested on Marianne Doubleday. He opened his mouth to speak to her, but at an imperceptible shake of her head stopped him. Instead he smiled affably and said he would be delighted. James breathed again, though he could not relax.
‘You know everyone, I believe,’ Lavinia said. ‘Except Lord Wincote, who is our Lysander.’ She indicated Edmund and the two men acknowledged each other. ‘And Lady Rattenshaw. She is lately from India and has been a true find for us. You will see, when we resume rehearsals, what a good Helena she is.’
‘Oh, I am sure she is, if you say it.’ A smile flitted across his face and his eyes lit with amusement as he gave Marianne an exaggerated bow. ‘How do you do, my lady.’
‘Very well, sir, I thank you.’
Lavinia noticed the look that passed between them and for the second time
that evening she was startled. Did Lady Rattenshaw have that strange effect on all men? There was Sir Percy, Lord Wincote, James and now Mr Greatorex, all exchanging knowing glances and smiles. What was it the woman had that attracted men to her like bees round a honeypot? If the lady were not so amiable, she could almost hate her.
‘We have just been to see tonight’s performance of Romeo and Juliet,’ Lavinia explained, as half a dozen waiters arrived with the dishes of food.
‘If I had known you wished to see it, my lady, I would have sent tickets.’
‘It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Everyone is so sick and tired of that performance in Westminster, we thought we would like to see something more enlightening.’
‘And was it? More enlightening, I mean.’
‘I cannot begin to describe how edifying I found it. I am sure we all feel the same. It will put new heart into us.’ She glanced at Lady Rattenshaw as she spoke. ‘My lady, I hope you will be able to continue.’ It was a direct reference to her absence from the last rehearsal.
‘Yes, I am looking forward to it.’
‘And you, Mr Greatorex, may I count on you and your players to join us?’
‘I would not miss it for the world,’ he said and laughed lightly.
‘Do you think we will be ready by the twenty-eighth?’
‘I do not see why not. You have all memorised your parts, it is only a question of saying them with feeling, knowing your cues and moving about the stage confidently.’ He turned to Lady Rattenshaw. ‘Do you not think so, my lady?’
Lavinia looked from one to the other. Why did she think something was going on which she was not supposed to know about? Everyone was behaving strangely. It was not what they said, which was innocuous enough, but the emphasis they put on their words, the looks they exchanged, the studied nonchalance on the part of the men and Lady Rattenshaw’s unease. She was tense; her laugh a little too brittle, her expressive hands more than usually active. She had almost knocked a dish out of a waiter’s hand. ‘Me?’ she said. ‘I know no more about it than everyone else.’
