His Secret Mistress

by Cathy Maxwell

  Because she had set her heart on performing The Tempest, she’d had to rent a theater with a royal patent. Months earlier, she had negotiated leasing the Drury Lane on Catherine Street for one week between the shows they were mounting. The pressure to make her mark in that short period of time was significant. She prayed she didn’t buckle from the weight of it.

  Of course they could not use the theater to rehearse so she rented a hall. She marked off Drury Lane’s stage just as she had the ground in Maidenshop. She also paid for a room for the men and one for Mary and herself. Tiny rooms without air and beds that were less comfortable than the cot she slept on when traveling. Three weeks to rehearse and build Brandon’s sets, one week to perform.

  In The Tempest, Kate had chosen the part of the fairy Ariel. Silas would be the magician Prospero and Nestor, the evil Caliban. Mary was given the role of Miranda, daughter to Prospero and Robbie would be the handsome Ferdinand.

  One of the first actions to upset her plans was John’s leaving the company. He didn’t like London. It wasn’t for him and he headed off to Manchester where he said he had family.

  They were two actors down what with Kate having dismissed Jess.

  She hurried to find replacements and several more to fill out the parts in The Tempest. Silas, Robbie, and Nestor set to work on Brandon’s designs for the stage pieces while she and Mary sewed costumes. Besides the Shakespeare, they would perform several of her Aesop’s Fables. London audiences expected a full evening.

  Her dream was an expensive endeavor. By the end of the second week of rehearsals, Kate was squeezing every penny.

  She was going over her expense books when Silas charged into the room she and Mary shared. Kate sat at a table, squinting at numbers by candlelight.

  He slammed his hands down on the desk to gain her attention. “I’ve found Jess.”

  Kate looked up. “And this interests me because . . . ?”

  “She is at Covent. She’s playing Ophelia across from Kemble.” John Kemble was one of the finest actors in England.

  That commanded her attention. “Jess?”

  “Aye.” Silas reached for a stool and dragged it over to sit. “Kate, her first performance was Monday. Here it is Wednesday and they are singing her praises. They call her the ‘Golden Goddess.’”

  “Oh, please.” Kate put down her pen. “The names they come up with. They lauded me as the ‘Aphrodite of London.’”

  “I can understand that, but Jess—?”

  “It just means she has captured male attention.” She picked up her pen. “This has nothing to do with us.”

  “I thought you’d wish to know.”

  “I do. I had no doubt she would land on her feet. May she carry on happily and stay away from our door.” Silas nodded, rose, and started to leave, but Kate stopped him. “How were the reviews?”

  He sighed heavily. “Fair. Of course, everything she knows, you taught her. And her winning the part has little to do with talent. The rumor is she has an important benefactor. They met at a posting house. The original actress came down sick and, well, there was Jess.”

  “I don’t wish her ill.” Kate turned her attention back to her ledger and Silas made his exit. However, after the door closed, Kate almost collapsed.

  Doubt seemed to be her constant companion lately.

  Too often, she thought of Brandon.

  She missed him. Her life had lost its luster and he’d been more of a steadying influence than she’d realized. Now, here was Jess of all people receiving acclaim.

  Kate wondered what Brandon would have to say about this turn of events. She knew he would reassure her and tell her to keep going—which was hard to do when one discovered her heart was somewhere else.

  Not for the first time did she think she might have made the wrong choice that last night in Maidenshop. London was hard. The challenges were larger than she had anticipated. She wasn’t afraid of them . . . she just questioned how important they were. What had once seemed vitally important now paled to the memory of having him close to her.

  And, when there were a thousand details in her mind and everything seemed too confused and difficult, she relieved the pressure by dreaming about what was going on in Maidenshop. Probably the same thing that happened every Wednesday in the village, or every Thursday, every Friday. Such was the simple life, and she missed it. The village was surprisingly close to her heart. “But you wouldn’t have known what it had meant, if you hadn’t tried this,” she reminded herself, speaking aloud.

  And there was no turning back now. She’d put everything she owned into this one endeavor and her pride would never let her back away.

  Brandon’s set pieces garnered a good deal of interest around the theater. Mr. Arnold, Drury Lane’s manager, studied the drawings and took a personal interest in the way they were being built. “Ingenious,” he kept saying. “Did you do these?” he asked Silas.

  “No, sir. A Mr. Brandon Balfour created them.”

  “Ingenious.”

  Mr. Arnold rarely spoke to Kate. She sensed his tacit disapproval of her was for no other reason than she was the one making decisions—and she was a woman. She seemed to make him uncomfortable. Every time there was something to discuss, he always went to Silas first.

  That changed the Friday before the performance.

  They were in the rehearsal hall. Kate had just finished putting her actors through their paces when she discovered Mr. Arnold watching her from the doorway.

  She walked to him. “Yes, sir?”

  “I didn’t know if you have seen this.” He offered her a page of The Morning Chronicle. She didn’t understand why anything in today’s paper should interest her when she was so busy, until she noticed an article titled, The Cruel Miss Addison Feared My Talent: An Interview with the Golden Goddess. A subtitle claimed, Actress attempts to destroy younger version of self.

  “What?” Kate skimmed the article. She had spoken loud enough she’d alerted Silas and the others that something was wrong. They came to read over her shoulder.

  “This is ridiculous,” Kate murmured.

  “Unfortunately, it makes for rather salacious reading,” Mr. Arnold said. “People enjoy rivalries. You know, good versus evil. I hope that you are the evil one doesn’t put the audience off.”

  “What is this about, Kate?” Silas demanded.

  Kate faced her actors. “It is Jess. She has a story here about how I conspired for the affections of the ‘Duke of W’ and she had to perform miracles to save him from a misalliance. All the while, she makes herself out to be a defenseless waif.”

  “Jess?” Nestor laughed his retort. “Wolves couldn’t pull her down.”

  “Well, according to this article, I’m the wolf.” Kate waved the paper at them. “She claims that I was threatened by her youth and beauty and will do anything to destroy her. I sound like an ogre. And the reason I went after the Duke of W? I hate the nobility. She even says she is motherless and saw me as the mother figure she’d always wanted. I’m not that old.”

  “And don’t breathe a word of this to her mother in Crewe,” Silas said.

  “Perhaps that her mother lives in Crewe isn’t true,” Kate suggested. “Maybe she made up a mother for us? Or made up being from Crewe?” She looked down at the paper in her hands. “This is all lies and yet there is just a hint of truth. Anyone reading it would think I am some she-devil. She says I purposely followed her to London to open a play to compete with hers, that I wish to destroy her. She even claims I encouraged Arlo to elope with the vicar’s daughter because I hate the church. This is outrageous, overly dramatic nonsense.”

  “I suspected it wasn’t true,” Mr. Arnold said.

  “I don’t know what to do about this,” Kate admitted. “She is blackening my name with half-truths.”

  “While she is the innocent little bird. Do you want me to talk to her?” Silas asked.

  “Or me?” Nestor chimed in.

  “I want to ignore the whole thing,” Kate
replied.

  “That is actually the best,” Mr. Arnold agreed. “These theater matters, it is all tit for tat. No one cares . . . usually. Let it rest. It will likely spark curiosity and bring an audience our way. Why, if Lord Dervil wasn’t her protector, she wouldn’t have received the part of Ophelia. The actress who was playing it took ill and I understand money changed hands. She must be keeping Lord Dervil happy.”

  “The public doesn’t know that,” Kate said. “And how did she meet Lord Dervil?” She’d heard the name before, and then remembered Brandon talking about how Lord Dervil had ruined his opportunity with the bridge commission. “He’s an enemy of Lord Marsden.”

  “The earl?” Silas said. “I can’t see him with any enemies. He is too good a fellow.”

  “Dervil is one of those you don’t cross,” Mr. Arnold said. “He shows up in places most of us would rather he not be.”

  “Well, I’ve done nothing to him,” Kate said.

  Mary spoke. “Perhaps if we went to the papers and you told your side of the story, Kate?”

  “They would be overjoyed,” Mr. Arnold predicted. “And they’d make up more lies. The public would feed off of it. That is how these things work. My advice is that you ignore it. You’re only here for a week as it is.” He waved his hand as if everything would disappear.

  “You are right,” Kate said, and prayed that was the end of the matter. She even ignored Silas’s muttered dark warning that all Arnold wanted was her money.

  In spite of the old soldier’s theory, as the day wore on, Kate was troubled to notice small gatherings of people outside on the streets in front of the rehearsal hall. They appeared to watch the door, their faces suspicious and distrusting. She chose not to go out.

  One of the new actors, Harry, confirmed her suspicions when he reported he’d overheard the onlookers talking about Jess. “They are loyal to her. They carry on as if you have harmed her and they protect her.”

  “I didn’t do anything to Jess,” Kate answered. “I wouldn’t.”

  “I believe you,” Harry said, hands in the air as if to ward her off. “Except they act as if they know her personally.”

  “Some people are a bit proprietorial about their favorite actress,” Kate said. “It’s nothing to cause concern.”

  And she wanted to believe that, except the next day for rehearsal, Harry didn’t show. One other actor went missing as well. They played minor characters and could easily be replaced. Still their leaving without a word was disturbing.

  Later that afternoon, another new member of the company came in with a pamphlet that was being distributed outside with the title, The Evil of One Miss Kate Addison. It was full of the same rubbish that the article had been, only this one suggested that Kate practiced the dark arts.

  “The dark arts?” Kate threw the pamphlet down. “Who believes in the dark arts?”

  No one answered.

  Placing her hands on her hips, Kate demanded, “And they can print lies about me every day?”

  Again, there was silence.

  “I am not going to give in to this,” Kate vowed. “Come, we need to transport the props we’ve been using to the theater. Who will come with me?”

  Robbie, Nestor, Mary, and Silas stepped forward. Reluctantly, most of the new actors joined them. They picked up tables and chairs designed specifically by Brandon for The Tempest and set out, Kate at their head.

  Those lingering on the streets didn’t approach her. There was grumbling in her direction. She chose not to hear it. Still, she could feel their eyes following her with ill intent as if she truly was some witch needing staking.

  “Their minds are smaller than the Matrons of Maidenshop,” Kate muttered.

  Nestor responded, “Actually, I would be happy to be back there. It was a good village.”

  Kate agreed.

  She was also not pleased to hear reports that Hamlet at Covent Garden was playing to huge crowds. Everyone apparently wished to see the Golden Goddess. One paper reported that, although the acting was indifferent, not a bad comment should be made about the sensitive young actress “who has suffered greatly at the hand of those older and past their own prime.”

  Meaning Kate.

  “I haven’t even stepped on the stage and I’m being dismissed,” she complained to her actors.

  No one disagreed with her. Silas spoke up then, “You will have to show your mettle, Kate. We all will.”

  It was a grim pronouncement, and a true one.

  Wednesday dawned with a clear day. A promising omen and Kate needed it.

  Today, she would either be a success or ruined. She’d know by nine that evening which one it was.

  She and friends arrived at Drury Lane by ten. The performance would be at six and the doors opened at five. She was surprised that there was already a crowd gathered in front of the theater.

  “Do you suppose this many people are anxious to see The Tempest?” she asked Silas.

  “I’m looking for turnips,” he answered.

  Kate was herself.

  Nor was Mr. Arnold particularly relaxed. “It is the publicity,” he said as if trying to convince himself. “All the talk has people interested.”

  “Of course that is true.” Kate tried to sound confident.

  Another actor did not show without word. It was late afternoon before they realized he wasn’t coming.

  Robbie claimed he could don a wig and play the very small part before returning to Ferdinand. Kate agreed, thankful for the courage of those who did show up for her. No actor liked being attacked while on stage. London’s audiences could be the most hostile in the world. They considered themselves part of the entertainment if they weren’t happy. It took courage to play before angry people.

  Certainly it was going to take all the courage Kate had.

  As the hour approached five, she put on her costume. She always felt there was a bit of ritual to taking on a character and the costume was the most important part.

  She and Mary had refashioned one of her Juno gowns into a fairy dress by sewing layers of gold, blue, and green ribbons. Mary had created a crown of greenery and Kate wore her hair curling down around her.

  When they had both finished dressing, Mary as Miranda left to go over one of her scenes with Robbie. “He’s nervous. I am as well,” she confessed before slipping out the door.

  Kate relished this moment alone. Ariel was one of her favorite characters. Shakespeare referred to her as an “airy spirit.” He also referred to Ariel as a male, but Kate was ignoring that direction. She also chose to play Ariel as a reluctant, almost rebellious collaborator with Prospero. She believed her changes gave the character more depth, which could be troubling if the audience expected a more traditional playing of the role. What had seemed bold two weeks ago now appeared foolhardy.

  “One week,” she said to herself. That was all the time she was committed to this role. She needed good houses for one week. Then she could pay off the theater and have enough to decide what she wanted to do in the future . . . because she discovered she was losing her taste for the stage.

  For years, she’d battled petty rivalries, small jealousies, and disappearing actors. She’d slept on a cot and gone without eating. She’d endured insults—and for what? Because she liked to playact?

  She looked at her fairy reflection in the glass and wondered if perhaps there wasn’t something else out there for her? She’d never asked that question before—

  A knock sounded on the door. Assuming it was Mr. Arnold to tell her how full the house was, she said, “Come in.”

  The handle turned. The door slowly opened and in the glass she saw Brandon Balfour standing behind her.

  Kate stood paralyzed. He looked good. Too good.

  He was dressed in black evening attire. He held a bouquet of roses. Lush, vibrant roses. The scent swirled through the air.

  She turned. Her first impulse was to run into his arms, and then she remembered how cruel she had been at their last meeting. He�
�d offered his heart and she’d refused him.

  “Hello,” she managed. It was hard to speak past the shame in her throat.

  He appeared to feel as awkward as she did. They both acted rooted to the floor. “I wanted to let you know I was here,” he said. There was a beat and then he added, “I bought these for you.”

  She nodded without looking at them. “They are beautiful.”

  They both stared at the flowers. She found it was easier than meeting his eyes that always seemed to look right into her soul.

  Silence fell heavy upon them, and when she could stand it no more, she started, “Brandon—” just as he said, “Kate—” as if he, too, had felt an urge to reach out to her.

  They stopped, went still. At last, she met his gaze. “Brandon, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I was rigid the last time we were together. I’m sorry that I cut you off.”

  He walked to her then, intent upon her. “I’m not sorry.” He stopped a foot away from her. She wanted him closer and yet something prevented her from taking the action herself.

  “You made me take a hard look at how I behaved. I want to think I’m better for it for the lesson.” He gave a self-deprecating smile. “I might not be. I’m stubborn when it comes to change.”

  “I don’t wish you to change. I like you the way you are. I’ve missed you.”

  The tension left him. He leaned back as if he could not believe his luck. “My life has seemed empty since you left. I had a second chance and I learned—”

  Before she could hear what he’d learned, Mr. Arnold appeared at the door, his hand up ready to knock until he saw that it was open, and that she had a guest, a male one. “I’m sorry, Miss Addison. Wanted to tell you the house is full. We are turning them away.”

  Brandon looked at her. “This is what you wanted. You’ve done it, Kate. You have made it happen.”

  “Yes,” she said uncertainly, not sharing her fear that it was a hostile house. She didn’t want Brandon to know that. He was here. That was what was important.