Truth and Beauty (His Majesty's Theatre Book 3) Read online

  She wrung her hands. “I just didn’t want to be late.” She paced stiffly. “I’m so nervous.” She looked around the large bare room. The walls were pristine whitewash, but the bare wood floor needed sweeping. A wonderfully musty odour filled her nose, as sunlight poured through the windows, illuminating bits of flying dust. Chairs were pushed against one wall, two tables against another, and an old piano stood in a corner. She smiled, remembering acting class when the room was full of people.

  Rory did not look happy. Her throat tightened. “Are you angry with me?”

  He let out a big sigh and looked up. “Of course not. But I am jealous. I’ve been here a year, and O’Connell’s never given me a private coaching.”

  Her hands clutched together. “I’m sure he’s only helping me because it’s an emergency, and I’m so dreadful.”

  “You’re not dreadful. Quite the opposite. But it is ‘an emergency’. Eddy always puts in the understudies, but Eddy’s no teacher.”

  “I’m sure that’s the reason.”

  She was so sweet; he couldn’t help but smile back. “Do you want me to read with…”

  She stepped back, alarmed.

  “No! Right!” He stood to attention. “You’re not to speak a word, I remember. I do understudy ‘Cis’, and will probably rehearse with you, but…” He held up a warning finger, “…not today.”

  She tried to smile, but her lip trembled.

  “Don’t fret so. You’ll be fine.”

  “‘Never contradict and never agree.’ That’s what they say about him, right?”

  He chuckled. “That’s right, or at least it used to be. He seems mellower these days. Could be an illusion. You’ll know soon enough.”

  Her eyes went wide.

  “Stop worrying. He likes you.”

  She swallowed. “He’s been kind to me, but he still frightens me.”

  “He likes people to be frightened of him. That’s how he controls them, keeps them out of his private life.” He shook his head, remembering the night he stayed at Jeremy’s flat. “You can’t control him, so you may as well relax.”

  *

  “THEN WE’LL BLOODY WELL HAVE TO PAY FOR IT!” Hilda Bates could be the most pigheaded woman on the planet. Pennywise and pound foolish, after a decade of working together, she still mistrusted Jeremy O'Connell's judgment. It was he who brought in audiences and made her a small fortune. He had saved her husband's theatre, all those years ago, yet she still fought him. "I WANT THAT MOUNTAIN!" His voice sounded marvellous, bellowing through the hall as he left her office and bounded up the stairs to the rehearsal hall. His sharp footsteps clipped loudly as he entered the opened doorway. His boots were highly polished and his new pinstriped suit hung beautifully on his long frame. Rory Cook and Elly Fielding sprang to attention.

  Jerry pointed to Elly. “How is the new boarding house?”

  “Lovely, sir.”

  “Mr. Cook?”

  “First class, sir. Of course, we haven’t had a meal yet.”

  “Let me know tonight. I want to hear personally from everyone staying there.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll pass the word, Sir!”

  “Thank you, Mr. Cook.”

  Jeremy thought Rory was going to salute. Instead, he nodded and started to leave. “Mr. Cook!” He made an about-face. “It is almost 3:00. Come back at 4:30 and read ‘Cis’ with Miss Fielding.”

  “Yes, sir.” He winked at Elly and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Jerry turned to Elly. “So, Miss Fielding, have you read the play?”

  “Twice, sir. Not a word out loud.” Her voice was a whisper.

  “Good.” He smiled and pulled two chairs into the center of the floor.

  She watched him with glowing green eyes, stood absolutely still, and clutched her script. He turned towards her and her gaze lowered. She was terrified.

  He shook his head. “Come along, Elly. I’m not going to bite you.”

  “No, sir.” Her cheeks flushed as she took the chair he offered.

  He chuckled, “Not just now, at any rate.” Her face grew redder and he laughed full out. “Oh dear, I shouldn’t tease you so.” He sat down, casually opening his perfectly pressed suit jacket. “You embarrass so easily, it brings out the schoolboy in me.”

  She looked up to see his eyes dancing and a finger over his smiling lips.

  Releasing a nervous laugh, she looked him straight in the eye. Even in an old school frock, with her fabulous hair hidden behind her back, she was stunningly beautiful. Taller than most women and slender as a willow, light red hair framing perfectly symmetrical bone structure, she reminded him of a Renaissance angel. He picked up the script. “Page three, if you please.” She opened her script. “We are going to look at each other and say the words. Just say the words. All right?”

  “Yes, sir.” Ankles and knees tight together, she held her script high enough to watch him over the top.

  He kept his voice and face expressionless. “Beatie!”

  Taking a breath she put on her brightest smiled. “Cis dear, dinner isn’t over, surely?”

  Jerry closed his eyes. “Just say the words, Elly -- nothing more.”

  Her smile vanished. She swallowed and tried the line again. “Cis dear, dinner isn’t over, surely?” Her reading was still affected and false, so he stopped again. Her body stiffened.

  “Elly.” He pushed down her script. “Look at me and say the words.”

  She spoke with no thought of what she was saying. “Cis dear, dinner isn’t over, surely?”

  Jerry nodded and continued reading. “Not quite. I had one of my convenient headaches and cleared out…”

  Her next three lines were repeated in the same torturous manner. By the end of the scene he was no longer stopping her, but she was reading with no expression whatever.

  "So, my dear, what did that feel like?"

  She looked horrified. "Honestly sir? I feel like an idiot."

  “That’s fine, let us go again.”

  By the end of the second read through, she felt much calmer and the words were finding a natural rhythm.

  Jerry smiled. “Better. How did that feel?”

  “It was interesting.” She gave a nervous laugh.

  “How so?”

  “Well, sir,” she paused, finding the right words. “When we started, all the words came from here.” She pointed to her lips, then rolled her eyes. "Of course, where else could they come from?"

  He chuckled and watched her thoughtfully. "And now?"

  She took a big breath. “By the end, the words were coming from here.” She touched her abdomen. Her eyes went wide and she broke into a smile. “Right now, talking to you, the words are coming from here.”

  “Good. Now, tell me everything you know about Beatie.”

  She swallowed. “I don’t know much about her.” Her eyes narrowed as she concentrated. “We’re told that she’s ‘A young lady reduced to teaching music,’ and that she came to the Magistrate’s attention through a crime of some sort.”

  “What sort, do you suppose?” Jerry relaxed into his chair and took out his cigarette case.

  Wonderful ideas poured out of the girl. “Well, if she used to be well off, perhaps her father was an embezzler and lost all his money, and was brought to court, and the Magistrate who’s very soft hearted, saw Beatie in the stalls, discovered that she’s musical… Oh, and her father was sent up… and her mother’s dead… so now Beatie teaches music to Cis and other children the Magistrate recommends her to?” She waited for approval.

  Jerry lit his cigarette, raised his head and inhaled deeply. “I like that.”

  She sat back, relieved.

  He exhaled and smiled. “Very clever. So, in this scene with Cis, what does Beatie want?”

  “That’s easy. She wants to be taken care of. She wants to be loved and protected.”

  “You say that with certainty.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You are familiar with those wants?
”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And yet you ran away…”

  “I was never loved and protected, sir.” All the day’s tension exploded into tears. “Quite the opposite. Forgive me.” Weeping, she started to stand. He took her arm and held her in the chair.

  “Use those tears, Elly. Forget for a moment that this is a comedy. Beatie has those feelings, too.” They started the scene again, and she sobbed her way through the first lines. By the scene’s close, the tears had dried. She seemed confused, but Jerry quickly moved to Beatie’s other scene and they read it through. After that, he told her to take a break and spend ten minutes in the sunshine. She obeyed, returning after eight minutes.

  When they reread the scenes, she felt confident enough to ask, “Did that sound like a comedy?”

  “It sounded real. That’s plenty for you to think about right now. You have a naturally silly streak, which will make you very good at comedy, eventually. Don’t try to be funny, that will come of its own accord.”

  Slightly before 4:30 Rory appeared. He sat down and read the scenes with Elly. When they were done, he looked at Jerry. “I can’t believe it. Congratulations, sir.” He smiled at Elly. “You were all right, really all right.”

  She bit her lip and smiled back.

  Jerry asked, “What’s today, Saturday? -- The Scottish play tonight, MAGISTRATE tomorrow matinee. Monday’s a day off. Do you two mind working on your day off?”

  They were both eager to continue.

  “Let me see the two of you here, Monday at 3:00.” He started to leave. “Rory!" He looked up and Jerry offered his hand. “I almost forgot, welcome to the company.”

  Rory beamed and firmly shook his hand. “Thank you, sir.”

  "Since I'm at leisure until rehearsals for THE TEMPEST begin, is there anything you’d like to work on?”

  Rory’s mouth dropped open then turned up in a smile. “Oh, yes sir, a dozen things.”

  Jerry laughed. “I’m not sure I have time for a dozen.”

  Rory coloured. “Sorry sir, didn’t mean to sound hoggish, but I desperately need help with Hamlet.”

  “Hamlet?” Jerry nodded in approval. “Ambitious, good for you, it’ll be a pleasure.” He thought for a moment. “Of course for Hamlet, I should give you over to Simon Camden. He had far more success with the role than I ever did.”

  Rory’s face lit up then dropped. “Is he as good a teacher as you are?”

  “Very politic.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know you are, dear boy, and I honestly don’t know the answer. He’s an outstanding director, so I imagine he’s also a good teacher, but the two don’t automatically go together.” Jerry looked at the two young actors. “I should get him over here to do some coaching, at any event. He’s taking the winter to raise money for a year’s tour of India, so he could make himself useful. It’s good for all of you to have someone else’s perspective. Elly, you met Simon Christmas Eve; came on a bit strong, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, sir.” She shuddered at the memory, and he chuckled. “Not to worry, he’s harmless.” He reconsidered. “No, with you, I dare say he’s not harmless.” He cocked his head. “But you would have a splendid time. Feather in your cap, perhaps?” What a marvellous idea. If I give Elly to Simon, he might leave Katherine alone. There was a twinkle in his eye as he turned to go.

  The colour had drained from Rory’s face.

  Elly asked, “May we work on THE MAGISTRATE on our own, before Monday?”

  Jerry thought for a moment. “Better not. Continue reading the whole play over, and make up more background for Beatie. You did well today.” He beamed Elly a radiant smile and she sent an equally radiant one back. “Mr. Cook, I’ll see you on stage. Miss Fielding, I’ll see you later on.” He nodded his head, started out, and turned back. “I want reports on the boardinghouse.”

  Chapter Eight

  Darry House seemed miraculous. This clean, tidy boardinghouse was a ten minute walk from the theatre. At Mrs. Potter’s they had slept three-to-a-bed. Now, everyone had their own tiny room. Lester, Todd, Rory, and Elly had a happy reunion, while meeting nine other boarders. The six men and three women worked in nearby shops and offices. The other boarders were friendly, but cautious, talking to theatre people. They found it very odd that they were coming home from a long day’s work, and the actors were on their way out. The boardinghouse served one breakfast at 6:30 a.m. Now, there was to be a second breakfast at 9:00 a.m., for the five actors.

  Lester smiled warmly and looked around the table. He was short and chubby, with a round face and a mass of curly black hair. “Have any of you lot seen a play at His Majesty’s?”

  Only the landlords and two of the borders had been to the theatre, so Lester chuckled, “Well, the rest of you are in for a treat. I’m Lester Reid. My father’s a vicar and this gathering reminds me of Sundays at the vicarage -- happy times.” He shook hands all around. Everyone seemed to like him.

  Mr. Hogan smiled. "We've got tickets for Sunday’s MAGISTRATE matinee. It sounds like a good laugh."

  "Indeed it is. You won't be disappointed." Lester touched Elly’s shoulder. “This lovely is Elly Fielding, our newest acquisition, just come on for our next production, THE TEMPEST.” Elly smiled and nodded politely. The others smiled back.

  Lester moved behind Todd. “And here’s my gangling friend, Todd Sinclair.”

  Todd giggled a low, “How-d’-you-do.” He reached a remarkably long arm and shook hands with everyone.

  Rory leapt up before Lester could say something embarrassing about him. “I’m Rory Cook. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” He nodded politely at the nine borders. Rory was rather short, but blond and very handsome. The three women borders smiled back.

  One-by-one, the borders introduced themselves. They were just finishing when Meg flounced into the room, calling loudly, “ ‘ow d’j do everyone. So sorry t’ be late.” The four actors cringed with embarrassment. As always, Meg’s frock was cut too low and her skirt too high. Her bleached yellow hair was dry as straw, and her skin was stained with makeup. She looked like a tart.

  Lester was quick to intervene. “This, my new friends, is Margaret O'Malley. Quite the character, our Meg is.” He put his arm around her shoulder, laughed fondly, and invited everyone to think of her as a sort of pet.

  They were saved further embarrassment when platters of food arrived, and were quickly passed around the table. The actors were thrilled. Instead of dry bread and cold drippings, there was roasted meat, whole potatoes, vegetables, and soft bread with a real crust. No one left the table hungry.

  *

  A week later, Elly dressed in a pale-blue frock Lady Richfield had given her. She arranged her hair especially nicely, and carefully walked downstairs. Rory met her on the landing. "You look lovely. What's the occasion?"

  Elly smiled proudly. "Sam Smelling is taking me to lunch."

  Rory sneered, "That ass of a journalist?" When Elly pushed gently past, he sighed, "I'm sure the food will be good. I wish I had his money and connections." When she didn't respond, he teased, "Maybe I should find a rich woman and be her fancy man." When she still didn't respond, he rushed past her, down the stairs and out the door, in the direction of Hamilton Place.

  Minutes later, Sam helped Elly into the hansom, climbed in behind her, and closed the door. As the cab lurched forward, he smiled. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I’m so nervous, I’m not sure I can eat.”

  “If you can’t, I’ll take someone else.” He called up to the driver, “Stop the cab!” The horse pulled to a halt.

  She stared, laughing with disbelief. “You’re terrible.”

  “I know.” His blue eyes were dancing under his tousled brown hair. He called up, again, “Drive on, Cabbie!” Sitting back down, he pushed his hair from his eyes. It immediately fell back. “Still nervous?”

  “Much less.”

  “Getting hungry?”

  “Yes.” She smiled back. �
�Thanks, Sam.”

  “For what?”

  “For making me laugh.”

  “You need to laugh.”

  She lowered her eyes.

  “Like, right now.” He lunged to tickle her and drove his fingers into whalebone. “Oww!” He shook his hands. “You still wear those instruments of torture? No wonder you can’t eat.”

  “I’m sorry, did it hurt you?”

  He rubbed his fingers.

  “Don’t they wear them in America?”

  “Older women do. The younger ones, less-and-less.”

  “Wouldn’t that be wonderful. I can’t even imagine that kind of comfort -- to go all day without a corset.”

  “Try it some time.”

  “Really? You wouldn’t mind?” She twisted her mouth. “How stupid of me. Obviously, you wouldn’t mind. Other people might.”

  “What other people?” Still in pain, he flexed his fingers.

  She looked down shyly. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Seriously, who’s opinions do you value enough to suffer for?”

  “Everyone.” She looked up apologetically. “Anyone at all. I’m a wretched coward.”

  “I don’t think that’s true at all.” He spoke seriously. “You’ve been trained to comply, like all upper-crust British ladies, but you’ve got more nerve than most.”

  “Do I really?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m so pleased you think so.”

  “Most ladies don’t dance in green velvet one minute, then fall asleep in charwomen’s rags the next.”

  She put her hand over her mouth. “I was so embarrassed. I was sure Mr. Bates was going to sack me.”

  “How can he sack you, if he’s not paying you?”

  “He can put me out on the street. The new boardinghouse is expensive. I hear he’s not happy about it.”

  Looking very sad, he shook his head. “Poor Cinder-Elly.”

  Her eyes flashed as she playfully slapped him on the arm. He lurched back in exaggerated fear and laughed as the carriage pulled up to Simpsons.

  Elly felt like royalty when one white-gloved doorman held the carriage door, and another opened the wide door to the restaurant. The small, elegant lobby had a parquet floor. The walls were lined with gild-framed mirrors and fantastic flower arrangements. Pristine linen cloths, glittering silverware, cut glass, and more fresh flowers adorned the tables. As the maitre D’ held Elly's chair, she could feel the eyes of curious patrons burning holes in her back. She glanced over the menu and shuddered. Some of the items were in French, and she hoped the prices were in francs, rather than pounds.