Not From the Stars (His Majesty's Theatre Book 1)

by Christina Britton Conroy

  “Yes, the new chaps.” Tommy bent double, laughing.

  Simon ignored him. “Please Jerry. For me. For old-time’s-sake.”

  Jeremy shrugged. “Well… I’ll do what I can for her.”

  “Thanks. You’re a real toff.” Simon heaved his suitcase into both arms and dashed from sight.

  Tommy wiped tears from his eyes. “Dear God. At least we know who took the tour in your place.”

  “Simon Bloody Camden. I didn’t even know he was back in town.”

  “He’s not. He’s gone again.”

  Chapter Three

  Jeremy hated playing Claudio in Much Ado About Nothing. He thought the character was dull and stupid. Rehearsals were agonizingly boring. He counted the hours until the show would open and he could concentrate on his next role. Katherine played Hero, in love with Jeremy’s Claudio. Every time Jeremy even glanced at Katherine, she stared back with huge, beautiful eyes. He hoped she was studying his acting, and cringed thinking she might be falling in love. She knew he and Tommy were lovers, but she watched his every move and blushed whenever they spoke. He kept his promise to Simon and gently encouraged her.

  The Strand Theatre Company rehearsed three plays at once. Much Ado’ opened first. A Midsummer Night’s Dream opened second, with Tommy playing Oberon. Henry V, Jeremy’s leading role, opened last.

  One morning, Tyler rehearsed the women’s scenes. He interrupted Katherine’s speech with, “Louder, Miss Stewart!”

  She looked startled, then screeched,“…of this matter

  Is little cupid’s crafty arrow made,

  That only wounds by hearsay….”

  “Enough. Let’s break for lunch.” He threw down his script. “Miss Stewart, do something with your voice.” He marched from the room and Katherine looked stunned.

  The actors stretched, chatted, and started leaving. Almost at the door, Jeremy remembered his promise to Simon and walked back to her. “Need some help?”

  “What’s wrong with my voice?”

  “Sounds like a fishwife. It’s your breathing. It’s all wrong.”

  “My breathing?”

  “Your whole posture. Before every entrance, you go up on your toes. It looks very strange.”

  She gasped. “But, people always told me I look beautiful. I always do that, it gives me…” She gracefully balanced on the balls of her feet, and lifted her arms like a ballerina ready to leap on stage.

  “You are not dancing now, so stop it. Just walk naturally.”

  “Oh.” She lowered her arms and stood like a stick. “How should I breathe? I never thought about it.”

  “You’re breathing too high. You have to relax your stomach, let the breath push your voice out.”

  “Push out my stomach? I couldn’t.”

  “Then you will never breathe properly.” He turned on his heel and started out. Tommy followed.

  Katherine scampered after them. “I’ll do it. Please show me how.”

  Tommy grimaced and checked the clock. “Come on, Jerry. We’ve only got an hour.”

  Equally miffed, Jeremy seized Katherine’s hand, held it against his stomach, and inhaled. She looked amazed by how much his stomach expanded. As he exhaled, his stomach pulled in, releasing a wonderfully resonant: “Ahhhhh…” He dropped her hand. “I’m hungry. Let’s go to lunch.” The men were almost at the door, before Jeremy looked back. Katherine had not moved. “You’re not eating?”

  “No.”

  “Saving tuppence to send home?”

  She flushed a flattering pink. “I’ll stay and practice breathing.”

  Jeremy muttered to Tommy, “She’s adorable. How could Simon just leave her here? He is such a slag.” They fled up the stairs

  Katherine was a quick study. Watching the older actresses, she learned to breathe while cinched into a tight corset. Her voice lowered and resonated nicely.

  One morning, she glided downstairs, expecting an uncomplicated rehearsal as Puck’s Fairy in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

  As she signed in, Fred whispered, “Nancy Ellison’s down with croup. Yer rehearsing Titania.”

  Katherine dropped the pen, whispering frantically, “But I don’t know the role, not all of it. Will Mr. Tyler let me use the script?”

  He wiped ink off her hand. “He won’t like it. Better try without. Just do yer best, love.”

  Minutes later she faced Tommy as Oberon. He took stage, crooning seductively:

  “I do but beg a little changeling boy

  To be my henchman.”

  She clenched her hands together and looked into his large gray eyes.

  “Set your heart at rest:

  The fairy land buys not the child of me.

  His mother was a…”

  Her mind went blank and her eyes grew huge.

  “Votress!” Fred’s voice boomed.

  Katherine swallowed.

  “…votress of my order:

  And, in the spiced Indian air, by night…”

  “Full hath!” Fred’s voice again.

  Katherine blinked hard. “Full hath…”

  Tyler slammed his hand on the table. “Miss Stewart, this is intolerable!”

  She was nearly in tears. “I’m sorry, Mr. Tyler. I’ve been learning the other roles. I never expected Miss Ellison…”

  “We never expect anyone to become ill, but they do. That is why we engage understudies. Skip ahead… Oberon: ‘Well, go thy way.’”

  Rehearsal ended at dusk. When Tommy and Jeremy rushed from the stage-door, Katherine was waiting for them. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Quinn. I ruined your rehearsal. Is Mr. Tyler going to sack me?”

  Jeremy whispered, “No, he will not sack you, but you must do better.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and Tommy impatiently patted her shoulder. “Just go home and study. You’ll do fine. Come on, Jerry.” He turned to go and Jeremy pulled him aside.

  “Tommy, love, I have to help her. She will drown if she doesn’t get some direction.”

  “Why do you have to help her?”

  “I promised Simon.”

  “To hell with sodding Simon.”

  Jeremy chuckled, affectionately pinching his leg. “Go home to the cuddlies. Give Neil a kiss for me and I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

  Tommy scowled as Jeremy seized Katherine’s arm and led her down the street. She gazed up like a grateful child.

  Jeremy was not particularly hungry, but guessed that Katherine was famished. They stopped into a grocer’s for bread, cheese, cold meats, apples, and wine, then walked a few streets to his small block-of-flats.

  “Wait here a minute.” He passed her the grocer’s bag. “If my landlord is home, I shall have to sneak you up the back stairs.” Katherine gasped as he loped up the front stairs, two-at-a-time. In a moment he was back, smiling. “It’s all right. He’s gone.”

  He retrieved the bag and led her through an ornately carved door paneled with cut glass, into a darkly wallpapered hallway. She followed him up a flight of stairs. Wall sconces flickered with faint blue gaslight.

  As Jeremy unlocked the door to his flat, he saw Katherine’s eyes lower. Her shoulders tensed. He guessed she had never been alone, inside a man's bedroom, and felt she was doing something immoral. Once inside, he closed the door and hung their coats on brass hooks in the wall.

  She looked around, shyly smiling. “This is beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I would never use that adjective, but it is certainly comfortable.”

  The L-shaped room contained a large bed, wardrobe, desk and chair, all made from the same dark wood, carved with designs of grapes and plums. A dark-green spread covered the bed, and matching curtains hung on two large windows. Small rugs covered most of the wide uneven floorboards. Rows of books stood on neat shelves. Everything was clean and tidy. One small corner was the kitchen nook. Jeremy took plates and glasses from cupboards.

  “Do you prefer wine or tea?”

  She laughed uneasily. “I’d better take tea. I would love so
me wine, but it would probably put me to sleep.”

  Jeremy chuckled, lighting the stove. “Tea for now, and wine later. How’s that?”

  “Lovely, thanks.” She automatically took charge of the food.

  After supper, he easily coached her through Hero. The role was simple: a young girl, in love, who thinks everyone else should be in love. She looked at him and spoke Hero’s tender words. They both knew she was not acting.

  Helping her understand Titania was much harder. After another hour’s coaching, Jeremy sprawled exhausted across the bed. “Of course they are angry with each other, but why?”

  Desperate to please him, Katherine’s body was tense as a rubber band. “I don’t know why they’re angry. They both had other lovers. That makes them even, doesn’t it?”

  Jeremy sat up, amazed. “You’re a very modern woman. So, what does Oberon want?”

  “The boy.”

  “Good. What does Titania want?”

  “The boy.”

  “No!” He threw up his hands. “She wants to punish Oberon. He has hurt her. That is why she went to Theseus.”

  She caught her breath. “Then, it’s about wanting his love and fearing she can never win it.” When he sighed with relief, she smiled and paced. “You are entirely correct. I was memorizing words when I should have been studying the characters and their wants. Oh, thank you, Mr. O’Connell.” She rushed to the bed and hugged him hard. He stiffened and she backed away. “I’m so sorry, I…,”

  "No worries." He forced a laugh. "I’ve been calling you, Kathy, all this while. Don’t you think you should call me Jerry? Kathy doesn’t actually suit you. You are more of a Kate. Yes, Katie, I think.” She was startled, but pleased. He took her coat from the hook. “You did first-class work tonight. Now, you need a rest.”

  “I don’t know how I can ever thank you, Mr.… Jerry. I know you’re helping me because Simon asked you to, but...,”

  “Actually, I had forgotten about Simon. Coaching you has been a pleasure.” He helped her into her coat, then took his own.

  “You don’t need to see me home.”

  “Of course I do. Since my landlord has come home, I must take you down the back stairs, into the alley. It is not pretty.

  A week later, Jeremy held a long-stemmed white rose and walked past the entrance to the Strand Theatre. Patrons queued at the box office. A placard read:

  STRAND THEATRE MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING

  OPENING TONIGHT

  Within blocks of the Strand, Londoners chose between legitimate theatres, opera houses, concert halls, music halls, saloons, and brothels, providing any sort of entertainment they could possibly want. Jeremy was surprised anyone would buy tickets for their small production.

  He signed in at the stage-entrance and the stage-doorkeeper handed him a letter. “Good luck, Mr. O’Connell.”

  Jeremy scowled. “Thanks loads. I’ll need it to pull off a role this boring.” He spotted the letter’s return address and chuckled with anticipation.

  Simon Camden

  Theatre Royal

  Manchester

  He trotted up the stairs, remembered the rose in his hand, and climbed an extra flight to the small dressing-room Katherine shared with three other actresses. He placed the rose, with a note, on her dressing table.

  To Katie,

  Break a leg!

  Jerry

  Three-and-a-half hours later, the make-believe conflicts were resolved. Benedick commanded, “…Strike up pipers!” Dancers skipped around the happy couples. As rehearsed, Jeremy took Katherine in his arms and kissed her. She clung to him and seemed startled when the curtain fell and he sprang away, to line up for the bows.

  For the next several hours, cast and crew, their friends and families, stayed at the theatre, eating, drinking, and waiting for their reviews. Tommy, Jeremy, and their friend Neil lounged on one side of the greenroom. Katherine huddled in a lonely corner.

  One by one, messengers arrived with newspapers, still damp from the presses. Actor-manager David Tyler opened each broadsheet, nervously reading the words aloud. The first two reviews were favorable, the third, wildly enthusiastic. Katherine sat up when they heard:

  “…The evening’s best surprise was Katherine Stewart’s Hero. Not only has this young lady beauty and poise, but an unaffected vulnerability, sure to make every man in the audience fall in love. Miss Stewart may prove to be the new find of the season.”

  The entire room cheered and applauded. Jeremy was ecstatic. “Hurrah for Katie! This calls for a celebration.” He hurried to her corner. “You look gloomy as a funeral guest. Whatever is the matter? You should be thrilled.”

  “I am, really.” She tried to smile, started to cry, and fled the room. He was close behind as she collapsed in the stairwell. “Oh Jerry, I’ve got to get back on the circuit. My father sent a letter. They’re in terrible trouble. They’re losing engagements. They’re starving.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  He was shocked. “But… you told me your sister’s dancing the solo.”

  “Mary can’t dance. Oh, she could, if she put her mind to it. I had Simon’s wonderful choreography and we loved to rehearse. Mary’s dancing partner’s a lazy sod.”

  “You’ve been sending them money.”

  “Not enough. Simon just sent another fiver.”

  “Then, they’re all right for a while?”

  She shrugged. “For a while.”

  “Please, Katie, don’t despair. Let me furnish you some money, just to tide them over.”

  “I couldn’t possibly accept…,”

  “After these reviews, you are sure to obtain a proper engagement next season, with a proper wage. Then you will be able to take care of them, and pay me back, with interest, if you like. You are such a lovely talent.”

  Thrilled by the compliment and desperate to believe him, she smiled and wiped her eyes. “Do you really think I’ll get…?”

  “Come along, starlet. This is your special night. We should celebrate.” He held out his hand. She took a tentative step, then rushed into his arms. He hugged her tight. When they broke apart, she clasped his hand. He led her back toward the greenroom, gently pulling his hand away.

  Chapter Four

  October 1889

  One Wednesday afternoon, a month later, Jeremy signed-in for the matinee and Fred the stage-manager pulled him aside. “I found Kathy sleeping on the floor of ‘er dressing-room. She’s wiv Tyler, and he’s steamin’.”

  “Damn! I knew she needed money, but never thought she’d do something brainless.” He rushed to David Tyler’s office. The door was open and he saw Katherine perched tensely on the edge of a chair.

  Tyler paced like an aggravated schoolmaster. “Bloody hell! This is a theatre, not a boarding house.”

  Jeremy hurried in. “What’s all this, then?”

  “She has been sleeping in her dressing room and she won’t promise to stop.”

  Katherine was near tears. “I’m not hurting anything. I never lit a candle.”

  Jeremy stood between them. “Not to worry, Mr. Tyler. She will not sleep here again. We will find her a place to reside.” He grabbed her arm and hauled her out.

  That evening, Katherine and Jeremy sat in a teashop, sipping sweet, milky tea. He shook his head. “I knew you had left the boarding house, but I never guessed you would actually…,” he shook his head and put a finger over his lips. “I feel responsible for this. I pressed you to stay.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake, Jerry, it’s not your fault.” She sighed, sorrowfully. “Nancy’s offered to let me ‘ghost.’”

  “You sleeping on Nancy’s floor?” He shuddered with horror. “No, I do not think so.” A crooked smile twisted his lips. “Well, Katie dear, it appears the only alternative is, at least for the present, that you cohabit with me.”

  Her teacup slipped, then leveled an instant before brown liquid slopped down her front. “But, how could I?”

  “I will just need to convince the landlord that w
e are married.” A twinkle came into his eye as he enjoyed a private joke. “Do you remember the last scene in The Bachelor’s Dilemma? I signed a marriage license. A-half-dozen counterfeit certificates were left after we closed, and I took them as souvenirs. If we sign our names, the deed will unofficially be done.”

  Her hands trembled as she returned the cup to its saucer. “But, it’s your home. What about your… your privacy?”

  He fluttered a hand. “Not to worry. Ages ago, I begged Tommy to move in with me. He refused. He prefers the house with Neil, and the other cuddlies, on Haymarket. I spend half my nights there, as it is.”

  An hour later, they were back in Jeremy’s flat. He sat at his desk, studying a sheet of paper. Very slowly, he wrote careful letters.

  Katherine unpacked her battered suitcase, and carried her second frock to the wardrobe. She hung the frock next to Jeremy’s suit jacket and lovingly ran her fingers down the sleeve. He noticed the gesture, thinking it was sweetly pathetic. She watched as he concentrated, bending over his desk.

  “You could have been a wonderful dancer, Jerry. You move like a panther: lean, and sleek, and elegant.” Afraid she wanted to hug him, he concentrated harder. She returned to her unpacking. “Jerry?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You said I should send my whole guinea home, but…,”

  “Do it. I am hardly a wealthy man, but I have funds enough to keep us both. Let us say that I am investing in a future star.”

  “I do so want to make you proud of me. And I’ll help wherever I can. I’m a good housekeeper. I’ll do all the shopping and the washing up, and I can mend anything. My last pair of dancing tights was more mend-than-mesh, but no one could tell.”

  “I am sure you will be invaluable. Come here a minute. I need you to sign this.” He leaned back so she had a clear view of the counterfeit marriage license.

  At first glance, it appeared genuine. She read aloud, “On this third day of December, in the year of our Lord eighteen-hundred-and-eighty…,” she squinted. “I can’t read the year.”