Gail Whitiker

by No Role for a Gentleman

  ‘Yes, it would, but revenge is a dish best served cold and I have no desire to make an enemy of Templeton. As it happens, I think he’s a damn fine producer, though I’ll deny it if you ever say as much. Besides, I know why you did what you did, Mr Bretton,’ Sir Michael said, ‘and even a hard-hearted critic like myself would find it difficult to find fault with your motives. But tell me, does your sister intend to write any more plays?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know,’ Laurence said, still reeling from the shock of finding out that Loftus already knew he wasn’t Valentine Lawe. ‘She has taken to writing children’s stories and seems to enjoy that very much.’

  ‘Pity. Writing for children may be rewarding for the soul, but I doubt she will find it particularly lucrative. However, married to Alistair Devlin, that won’t be a consideration. Still, it is not the end of the world. If you are able to continue writing plays the calibre of The Silver Chalice, Valentine Lawe needn’t die.’

  ‘But I’ve just told you I’m not him.’

  ‘And I’m telling you it doesn’t matter who Valentine Lawe really is,’ Sir Michael said. ‘Only that he is perceived to be the playwright. It may surprise you to learn that some believe William Shakespeare was only a pseudonym. This is no different.’

  ‘I cannot lie to the people I care about,’ Laurence said. ‘Not any more.’

  ‘Fine. Then be honest with those you love and lie to everyone else. The theatre is not meant to be taken seriously, Mr Bretton. It isn’t a place of law or punishment. It is a place of entertainment and farce. A place where a man goes to forget about his troubles for an evening. What does it matter if you are truly the author of plays that in a few years’ time society will have forgotten all about?’

  Laurence got to his feet. ‘It matters to me.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure it does, but what of your family? Do you not care about them any longer? Your eldest sister is part of a noble family now and your younger sister is not yet married. Are you prepared to see them suffer so that your conscience can be clear?’

  It was the question he still battled with, Laurence acknowledged, the question for which he did not have an answer.

  ‘No, I thought not,’ Sir Michael said quietly. ‘And that is not a bad thing. A man should care about his family and wish to protect them. For that reason, I suggest we strike a bargain.’

  Laurence raised an eyebrow. ‘What kind of bargain?’

  ‘One that works to the benefit of everyone involved. I respect what you did today, Mr Bretton. It took courage to tell me the truth and I understand your desire to acquaint Lady Joanna with the facts given that you’re in love with her and likely hopeful of marrying her. But beyond that, I suggest you make no further declarations of the truth,’ Sir Michael said. ‘The fact your plays are going in an entirely different direction from those of your sister will be a sufficient point of differentiation. Even if you suddenly start writing plays as Laurence Bretton, society will still think of you as Valentine Lawe. And while there will be those who don’t like your new plays as much as your old, there will be just as many who like them even better.’ Sir Michael crossed the short distance between them and held out his hand. ‘The main thing is that we continue to produce plays that continue to be profitable. Are we in accord?’

  It made sense, Laurence admitted. While still not being entirely honest, it did protect those he loved from censure and he had Sir Michael’s assurance that any new works would be published under his own name. More importantly, it allowed him to go to Joanna now and tell her that the identity of Valentine Lawe was no longer a secret.

  But would it be enough? Would she be able to forgive him for the lies he had told, or was it too late to regain her respect? Because without her respect, there wasn’t a hope in hell of winning her heart.

  * * *

  Joanna had no desire to go shopping with her aunt. The days following her unhappy meeting with Laurence and her unpleasant argument with Captain Sterne were far from cheerful and the last thing she felt like doing was making frivolous fashion decisions. But after being told that her complexion was the colour of uncooked pastry and that the circles under her eyes were making her look like a street waif, she decided an outing might not be a bad idea.

  If nothing else, it would be better than sitting in her room, brooding.

  The arrangements were made for her to call at her aunt’s house on a day suitable to her, at which time the three of them—Jane being included on the expedition—would set out for the shops.

  Joanna dressed and arrived at her aunt’s house on the prearranged day and at the requested time, and was informed by the butler that Mrs Gavin and her daughter would be down shortly. But when she was shown into the drawing room to wait for them, it was to find the room already occupied.

  Laurence Bretton was there, standing with his back to the fireplace.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Joanna demanded.

  ‘Waiting for you,’ he said quietly. ‘Since you refused to meet with me or to read any of my letters, I was left with no other choice.’

  ‘You planned this?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘With my aunt’s help.’

  ‘I could not do it without.’

  ‘How dare you!’ Joanna said, her embarrassment turning to anger. ‘I don’t know who to be the more upset with.’

  ‘Please do not blame your aunt, the idea was entirely mine,’ Laurence admitted. ‘I asked Mrs Gavin if she would be willing to allow a meeting to take place and, against her better judgement, she granted me five minutes to state my purpose. If, at the end of that time, I have not managed to change your mind, I will leave and not bother you again. But I wasn’t about to let you go on with your life without telling you how I felt, or assuring you that the guilt you are feeling is entirely misplaced.’

  ‘On the contrary, it is entirely justified,’ Joanna said, turning away from him. ‘I have sullied your reputation. You have no reason to be so tolerant or so forgiving.’

  ‘If I am forgiving it is only because the circumstances demand it. And before another day goes by, I will have honesty between us, Joanna,’ Laurence said. ‘And the truth is I am not Valentine Lawe.’

  Joanna briefly closed her eyes, torn between frustration and anger. ‘Mr Bretton, there really is no need to maintain this pretence. Sir Michael Loftus told me who you were the day I called at your uncle’s house. You were there. He held up your play and said it was exceptional. As good as anything you had previously written. Or are you going to tell me now that The Silver Chalice is not your play?’

  ‘No, it is mine,’ Laurence said. ‘But it is my first play rather than my fifth. Victoria wrote the first four because she is Valentine Lawe.’

  ‘But you talked to me about those plays,’ Joanna said, turning back to face him. ‘You knew everything there was to know about them.’

  ‘I had to in order to be convincing. But I did not write them, Joanna,’ he said, taking a step closer. ‘Victoria did. She simply wasn’t willing to admit to it in public.’

  ‘But why did you become Valentine Lawe? And why admit it to me now? Your sister’s first play came out four years ago. Why did it take so long for the truth to come out?’

  ‘To be honest, it wouldn’t have come out at all if not for an unfortunate rumour started by a spiteful young woman,’ Laurence admitted. ‘I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that last year, Victoria and Mr Devlin, then just a friend, encountered one of the actresses from my uncle’s troupe with a gentleman she should not have been with at a society event to which they were not invited. When Victoria politely suggested the actress leave, she took offence. Not long after, a rumour began to circulate that Victoria was Valentine Lawe.’

  ‘And a scandal broke out as a result,’ Joanna said.

  ‘Yes. Winifred was being courted by Mr Fulton at the time and was furious when his attentions suddenly turned elsewhere. We even began to fear that Mr Devlin’s regard for Victoria might be in j
eopardy. Naturally, Mama was beside herself. She accused Victoria of ruining the family’s name and went on to predict doom and gloom for both my sisters in the marital arena. So the rest of us, my aunt and uncle, my father and myself, decided that the only way to fight the rumour was to maintain it wasn’t true. And that’s what we did,’ Laurence said. ‘We didn’t think it would hurt anyone, and in hindsight, it wasn’t the smartest choice we could have made, but once it was embarked upon, we had no choice but to carry on and hope in time that it would all blow over.’

  ‘But it did not,’ Joanna surmised.

  ‘No. Matters came to a most unfortunate head when Sir Michael Loftus appeared at our door one day and asked Victoria point blank if the rumours were true and if she was, in fact, Valentine Lawe. It was particularly awkward given that Devlin was there too, having arrived only a few minutes earlier to speak to Victoria about that very subject. So, in the fleeting moments between Sir Michael asking the question and my sister answering it, I made a decision. I knew no one would question the propriety of a gentleman being a playwright, so I stepped forwards and said I was Valentine Lawe. Once Sir Michael let that be known, the die was cast and, overnight, I became a famous playwright with four wildly successful plays under my belt. Suddenly, I was in demand at literary gatherings and soirées, and while I was able to hold my own, I would be lying if I said I was comfortable in the role.’

  ‘You were very convincing at Mrs Blough-Upton’s soirée,’ Joanna murmured.

  ‘Yes, and you have no idea how much I regretted that appearance after I saw you there that night.’

  She blinked. ‘You cared what I thought even then?’

  ‘Good Lord, yes. I wanted you to believe I was the earnest student of history you’d met in the bookshop,’ Laurence said. ‘The one eager to learn as much about Egypt as he could. But the next time you saw me, I was Valentine Lawe, the famous playwright, and two more different men I cannot imagine.’

  A smile came unbidden to Joanna’s lips. ‘No, I dare say you cannot. I decided you must have been using the book as an excuse to approach me.’

  ‘I was...but only because I heard you talk about Egypt and realised we had a common interest. From that point on, the situation evolved into what it is now. I wanted to tell you the truth about my not being Valentine Lawe weeks ago, but the timing never seemed right,’ Laurence said. ‘Then when Winifred came home and told me Mr Fulton had asked her to marry him because of what I’d done, I realised I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t know what you would do with the information and I couldn’t risk being the cause of Winifred’s unhappiness.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have said anything,’ Joanna said softly. ‘It would never have occurred to me to betray you like that.’

  ‘I know that now, but I didn’t at the time. I thought you were so angry with me you would have done anything you could to disgrace me. I reminded myself that even had I told you the truth, it wouldn’t have mattered. I was neither titled nor wealthy, and I knew you had to marry a rich man so I decided to keep silent, knowing how important it was to my family that I maintain the façade.’

  It was a fascinating story and now that she knew it all, Joanna could well understand why Laurence had done what he had. ‘So, this latest play. The Silver Chalice. Is it really yours?’

  ‘Oh, yes, and I was very pleased when Theo told me it was good.’

  ‘As I recall, the word he used was outstanding.’

  ‘He does tend to overstate things.’

  ‘Not, I suspect, in this case.’ Joanna looked at him for a long time, aware that he was baring his soul to her and that no matter what happened now, there would never be any need for lies or deception between them again. ‘No wonder you were so angry with me when I accused you of wanting to be famous,’ she said. ‘I know now that nothing could be further from the truth. But why have you told me all this now?’

  ‘Because if you would admire me, let it be for the man I am rather than the character society believes me to be,’ Laurence said quietly. ‘I could no longer live with the knowledge that I was lying to you. Not given the fact that I—’ He broke off, frowning. ‘Miss Gavin!’

  Joanna spun around to see Jane standing in the doorway, her eyes growing wider by the moment as she glanced from one to the other. ‘Mr Bretton! I’m so sorry! Mama didn’t tell me you were here.’

  ‘That’s because I didn’t think he still would be here,’ Mrs Gavin announced, marching into the room. ‘I do believe that was ten minutes, not five, Mr Bretton,’ she added with a pointed glance in his direction.

  ‘And I was, in fact, just leaving,’ Laurence said, heading for the door. ‘I was simply keeping Lady Joanna company until you and Miss Gavin came down.’

  It was a flimsy excuse and Joanna knew it. The fact Laurence had been found in her aunt’s drawing room raised one set of questions; the fact he had been caught alone with her raised another. But she didn’t care. Not after what he’d just told her. ‘Mr Bretton—’

  ‘Come along, Joanna,’ Mrs Gavin said briskly. ‘We have an appointment to keep. Good afternoon, Mr Bretton,’ she added, shooing him from the room and closing the door behind him. ‘Such a forward young man. I would appreciate you not making any mention of this to Lady Cynthia, Joanna,’ she said. ‘It is bad enough she is so critical of your behaviour. I really do not need her to be condemning of mine as well.’

  * * *

  Needless to say, Joanna was on pins and needles by the time she got home. Four hours of shopping for shawls had done nothing to erase the memory of Laurence’s words. It had only given her four more hours to think over everything he’d said in an effort to assuage her doubts and to finally clear the air between them.

  He was not Valentine Lawe—but his reasons for pretending to be were the most admirable in nature. How could she condemn any man for putting the welfare of his family first?

  ‘Ah, Joanna, you’re home,’ her father said, walking into the room. ‘I was hoping we might have a chance to talk. Am I to understand that you have refused Captain Sterne’s proposal of marriage?’

  The mention of the man’s name was unwelcome, but Joanna knew she had to deal with it. In all honesty, she was surprised the subject hadn’t come up before. ‘I’m sorry, Papa, but I had no choice. I know you were counting on his fortune to pay off our debts, but I could not marry him after finding out what kind of man he was.’

  ‘I take it the two of you argued?’

  ‘He lied to me,’ Joanna said. ‘He said he would allow me to go to Egypt with him if we were married, but then I found him interviewing someone else for the artist’s position and realised he’d never had any intention of taking me with him. He expected me to accept his proposal, but would have insisted that I remain at home. So I refused.’ Joanna sighed. ‘I take it he’s spoken to you about what happened?’

  ‘Oh, yes. He told me his own version and demanded that I remind you of what you—and I—stand to lose if you do not reconsider his proposal.’

  ‘I cannot, Papa,’ Joanna said, slowly shaking her head. ‘I’m sorry, but I will not marry him.’

  ‘Of course you won’t marry him,’ her father said firmly. ‘I told Sterne as much myself. Just as I told him that he is no longer welcome on my expedition to Abu Simbel.’

  Joanna raised her eyes in astonishment. ‘He isn’t?’

  ‘Certainly not. I cannot like a man who goes behind my back, even if he believes his reasons for doing so are commendable. I made it very clear that I decide who goes on the expedition and who does not, and said he had no right to interview someone on my behalf. I told him I have no desire to see him again and, given his treatment of you, I feel no regrets about it whatsoever.’

  ‘But what are we to do about the bills? How will we manage?’

  ‘Actually, that is the other matter I wished to discuss with you,’ her father said, looking, to Joanna’s surprise, a little embarrassed. ‘I’m not sure if you remember, but there was a lady at your aunt’s dinner party. A widow by th
e name of Mrs Taylor.’

  ‘Yes, I remember her,’ Joanna said. ‘Aunt Florence told me she was very nice.’

  ‘She is. And I have seen her...a number of times since that evening,’ her father said, sounding even more embarrassed. ‘And while it is still early days, I am hopeful of Mrs Taylor and I becoming even closer in the future.’

  ‘Closer?’ Joanna repeated in delight. ‘Are you telling me you wish to marry Mrs Taylor, Papa?’

  ‘The thought had occurred to me,’ her father said, smiling in a way Joanna hadn’t seen him smile in a very long time. ‘But how would you feel about it, my dear? I know how much you loved and miss your mother, and it would never be my intention to try to replace her—’

  ‘But you wouldn’t be replacing her, Papa,’ Joanna said gently. ‘You would simply be finding someone else with whom to share your life and I am more than happy at the idea of you doing that. I want to see you happy again.’

  He looked both relieved and a little uncertain. ‘I must say, this is the first time since your mother died that I’ve felt any kind of attraction towards another woman,’ he acknowledged.

  ‘I know that, Papa, and you must be sure to act upon it,’ Joanna said, giving his arm a squeeze. ‘Because if you find Mrs Taylor attractive, I guarantee other men will too, especially if she is as wealthy as they say. Oh, dear—’ She broke off, gazing at her father. ‘That’s not why you wish to marry her, is it?’

  ‘Good Lord, no! I’ve never been motivated by money and even in light of our present circumstances, I would not marry Mrs Taylor if I did not care deeply for her,’ her father said. ‘I’ve told her of my circumstances, preferring that she hear it from me, and said that if she wished to put an end to our association I would understand completely. But the lady seems not to mind my pecuniary difficulties and has assured me that she would be happy to make available whatever funds might be necessary...if she were to find herself in the position of being able to do so.’

  ‘Oh, Papa, it sounds as though the lady would be very happy to marry you,’ Joanna said, elated by her father’s good fortune in having found a lady worthy of his love.