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

by Christina Britton Conroy

  “I rode a pony named Billy, when I was a child.”

  “Really!” She giggled and sat up.

  “Yes. It belonged to a neighbor.”

  “Pony Billy and I spent days roaming the moors. It was so wonderful. My clothes were a shambles, my hair a mess of knots.” Embarrassed, she bit her lip. “I wore britches castoff from the stable boys.”

  He laughed, enchanted by her story.

  “One day everything changed.” Her arms pulled close to her body, making her thin frame appear even slighter.

  Robert’s heart beat with anticipation. “What happened?”

  She nervously pulled her legs under her. “Oh, it’s really of no account.”

  “It’s of account to you. Please tell me.”

  She forced a giggle and stayed still. When he continued waiting, his face full of concern, she took a deep breath. “Well, one day a visitor came.” Her eyes closed. “Sir -- John -- Garingham.” She spoke the name with painful deliberation and Robert’s eyes narrowed. “He wanted me to be a lady, so he took Billy away, and he brought a governess.”

  “The one who taught you that horrible apology?”

  She nodded. “That apology’s been very useful over the years. I’m always speaking out of turn. Sometimes I say that phrase and I don’t get punished.”

  Robert shifted uncomfortably. “I take it, you get punished a lot.”

  Elisa stared at the ground.

  “Does your father punish you?”

  “Oh, yes.” She sat up straight. “I’m sorry. This is a boring story.”

  “It’s an unhappy story, but certainly not a boring one. Tell me more.” He took off his suit jacket and carefully rolled it up for a pillow, then nestled against his tree stump, preparing to listen for a long time.

  Elisa stared in disbelief. “Please forgive me. I’ve never had a proper conversation with a man. I’m not used to it.”

  Robert pushed thick dark hair off his high forehead, crossed his arms, and smiled. “You’re doing fine. Please, go on.”

  She hesitated. “There’s really nothing to tell. Sir John visits. Father hates me.”

  “Hates you? Why, for heaven sake? Is it because of your mother?”

  “He’s never spoken well of my mother, or me, or his sister, my Aunt Lillian. I don’t know why he dislikes me, but he seems to dislike all women.”

  Robert shook his head. “I’ll never understand blokes like that.”

  “The worst day of my life was my fourteenth birthday. Sir John cornered me in the pantry. His hands were… When I ran crying to my Aunt Lillian, she said, ‘He’s you’re betrothed. He has the right.’ I didn’t believe her, so I asked Father. Soon after, I was sent to school. It was like heaven. I’ve been so happy here, I…,”

  Robert lurched up. “You’re betrothed to this man?”

  “We’re to be married in June.”

  “But you’re too young, and you hate him.”

  “I’ll be eighteen in December.”

  “Those bruises, on your wrist?”

  “Sir John’s always hurting me, but I’ll never find another man. My aunt and Mrs. Carrots both say that a girl with no dowry must be grateful if any man wants to marry her.”

  “You must have a dowry.”

  “No, I assure you.”

  “This man didn’t go to all the trouble of training you, and waiting all these years, if you have nothing to bring to a marriage.”

  She shrugged, nervously folding the handkerchief.

  Robert was insistent. “Who told you, you have no dowry?”

  “My aunt. She had none. That’s why she never married and had to stay with her brother.”

  He shook his head. “There’s something wrong with this story. Has no one…?”

  The chapel bell rang, calling everyone to the picnic. Robert sprang up and helped Elisa to her feet.

  "Shall I wash your handkerchief?" She dusted off her skirt. “I have to sing soon. I should have minded my frock.”

  Resisting the desire to take her in his arms, Robert took back the handkerchief. He gently pushed loose strands of copper hair away from her forehead. Her skin felt like warm porcelain under his fingers.

  She smiled shyly, and seemed to enjoy his touch.

  He whispered, “We mustn’t be seen together. Shall I go back, first?”

  “All right.” She gazed into his eyes. “Thank you for listening to me. I hope I didn’t…,”

  “You’re delightful. Thank you for sharing your story.” Knowing he had to ravish her or walk away at once, he chose the latter, hurrying toward the insistent sound of the chapel bell. He stumbled from the woods, slightly dazed, confused, and wondering just exactly what had happened. Obviously, he had had a brief conversation with a pretty girl. That was nothing extraordinary. The fact that his heart was racing and his face burning was extraordinary.

  Mrs. Carrots waved from underneath her tall sunflowers. He waved back and sprinted gracefully to her side. “Mrs. Carrots, you look a picture of health and beauty surrounded by your remarkable flowers.”

  She laughed at his compliment. “My flowers are doing very well this season. When I harvest their seeds, we’ll feast on them all winter. Do you like sunflower seeds?” She raised an eyebrow. “You appear to be in excellent health, either that or you have a fever. I’ve never seen your color so high. Did you enjoy your walk in the woods?”

  Robert paled. He didn’t know what to say, but had to explain why he had followed an un-chaperoned female student into the forest. Before he was able to answer, he saw Elisa walk through the trees. Her pale green frock was almost a camouflage against the foliage, but her flowing red hair blew in the slight breeze. She looked like a fantastic wood nymph.

  Elisa saw Mrs. Carrots with Robert, and stopped. Keeping her eyes low, she made her way tentatively towards them. Mrs. Carrots furiously pulled off her gloves and gathered her gardening tools into a sturdy basket. When Elisa reached the garden she couldn’t help smiling at Robert. He couldn’t help smiling back.

  Mrs. Carrots glowered at them both. “Elisa, you heard the picnic bell. I believe you will be singing soon. You’d best hurry.”

  “Yes ma’am.” She curtsied and hurried toward the picnic. Robert nodded to Mrs. Carrots and started after Elisa.

  Mrs. Carrots barked, “Mr. Dennison!” He stopped dead. She spoke through clenched teeth, “Kindly help an old lady with her basket.” She effortlessly lifted her basket of tools and thrust it at him. Looking very guilty, he took it from her and followed her into Nicholas House.

  She pointed to a spot by the door. “The basket lives there.” He obediently placed it on the floor and waited for her wrath. His momentary joy flipped to panic. He was sweating. His heart was beating out of his chest. Was this the end of his short career as an art-master? She had every right to report him to the headmaster and get him sacked. He braced himself for a verbal thrashing. Instead, she sighed deeply. Her eyes fill with tears. She blinked them away and pretended to look out the window.

  She spoke softly, “Be careful, Mr. Dennison. This isn’t Paris. It isn’t even India, and that girl’s fate is locked with cast-iron.”

  Robert whispered frantically, “But, it can’t be. She told me she’s betrothed to a sadist, of course she didn’t use that word, but he hurts her. Her father is just as bad. She has no mother, only a useless aunt -- I saw her wrist, when she first arrived. God knows what that fiend will do once he’s married to her. She has no idea what men…,”

  “No, she hasn’t, and it is not our place to educate her on such personal matters.” Robert started to speak again, but Mrs. Carrots raised a finger to her lips. He was surprised when she chuckled and shook her head. “Actually, it's very funny. Elisa always insisted that I alone should know about her engagement. She even refuses to confide in her best friend, Lucy Ann Minford -- yet she seems to have told you everything in a few minutes.” She wiped her eyes. “I agree with you, the situation is intolerable, and still we have no right to int
erfere.”

  Robert was frantic. “But there must be laws protecting…,”

  “…Protecting penniless girls from marrying rich husbands? I think not.”

  “Is she truly penniless? It makes no sense…,”

  “Her betrothed pays her tuition and spending allowance. If her family could afford the fees themselves…,”

  “But surely she can get away…,”

  Mrs. Carrots clenched her jaw and glared at him. “That child has slept under this roof for three years. I love her as my own. Do you honestly believe I haven’t thought of everything? I’ve even thought of taking her back to India with me, but eventually, she’d be found and returned to her betrothed, leaving me to die in prison. Not a pretty picture, that.”

  Robert stood, stunned. “I hadn’t thought of prison.”

  She waved a warning finger. “Do!” She washed her hands and face in the kitchen sink.

  For a few moments, the only sound was water from the tap. Robert noticed a painting on the landing and moved close to study it. Far in the background stood the Taj Mahal. In the foreground, soft dust blew past the figure of a lithe woman in a green sari, a baby on her back. Mrs. Carrots turned off the tap. She looked sad as she dried her hands and face. Robert studied the paining. “The Sergeant Major had talent.”

  “He had.”

  “Your child?”

  “Died from fever, soon after his father was killed in an ambush. That’s why I left, and came to England.”

  “Do the girls know that woman is you?”

  “Some do. Those who have asked. Elisa loves your class.”

  Torn between emotions, he nodded. “She’s very talented. She learns so fast.”

  “Then, that must be your gift to her. If she is doomed to a lonely life in a loveless home, she will be able to create and enjoy art. You will have given her that. You should feel proud.”

  He rolled his eyes. “That is hardly enough.”

  “It must be. You can not do more.” She moved to a mirror and straightened her hair. “And now, tell me, how are your pictures. Will they be ready for January?”

  He nodded. “I’m pleased with the ones I have, but you’re correct, and I need at least one portrait of a clothed model.”

  She looked sidewise at him.

  “Please, may I paint Elissa?”

  “It is pronounced, El-eez-a, and that is up to her.” She faced him full on. “If she agrees, and I doubt she will not, for both your sakes, work only in the studio, or somewhere equally public. Never take her into the woods again.”

  “I didn’t take her…,”

  “I know, I saw. You followed her -- so don’t follow her again -- and she roams there very often.”

  “Is she the girl who sneaks out at night?”

  She threw up her hands. “Oh, dear God!”

  “I shall never follow her into the woods again. I promise -- and we shall only be together in very public places.”

  “See that it’s so.” She hung up her smock, and gave herself a final once-over in the mirror. “Now, you may take my arm and walk me to the picnic. Everyone will think you are a chivalrous young man, kind enough to help an old lady. Make sure that is always what they think of you.”

  Robert bit his lip and bowed. “Yes ma’am. I shall do my very best.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The next two weeks flew by as Elisa prepared her audition for The Taming of the Shrew. Robert allowed her to keep the script open on her easel and memorize while she drew. She quickly knew both principal roles, Kate and Bianca, by heart. Enjoying her excitement, he encouraged her to stay after class and practice her audition scenes. He was shy to read aloud, but she convinced him to read the other characters.

  When the cast list was posted, Elisa read her name next to the character Kate, and screamed with joy. She pushed through boys and girls straining to read their names and raced to the studio. It was almost supper time, so the door was locked. On a chance, she ran through the woods, to the stream. Her heart leapt when she saw Robert sitting at a small easel, using pastels to capture autumn reds and golds.

  “Mr. Dennison!”

  He looked up and smiled at the youthful beauty rushing toward him. “What a pleasure, Miss Roundtree. Three times in one day.” It was too late to remember his promise to Mrs. Carrots.

  Elisa bubbled with excitement. “I’ve got Kate. I’m so excited. I was afraid Meredith Locksley would get the part, but she got Bianca. We start rehearsals tomorrow.” Giggling, she dropped to her knees and looked up at him. “Everyone else thinks I’m silly, caring so much about a play, but unless we do another in the spring, this will be my very last play ever, so I have to be good.”

  He frowned. “Didn’t you tell me you’d be living in Tebay, after you were married?” Elisa was startled and he quickly comforted her. “It’s just that, I’ve been to Tebay. It’s a big, wonderful seaside town. They’re sure to have amateur theatrical societies.”

  “That may be so, but Sir John hates theatre and concerts.” Her throat tightened. “He only lets me sing or recite when his guests ask me. He always says things like, ‘We’ll have none of that noise when your married to me,’ and, ‘You’ll learn to be silent when you’re married to me.’” She nervously bit her finger. “He hates it all. He hates me. I don’t know why he wants to marry me.” Her chin shook as tears filled her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry.” He reached to comfort her, then quickly sat back. “You were happy, and now I’ve made you cry. I feel like a cad.”

  She sniffed. “It’s not your fault. There’s nothing anyone can do. Women often marry against their will.”

  “Some women marry for love. Oh, my darling girl.” He dropped down off his stool and cradled her in his arms.

  Thrilled, she clung to him, looking up with sparkling green eyes. Without thinking, he turned his face and kissed her soft lips. She responded, pushing her body hard against his. He lurched back. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He jumped to his feet. “I’m terribly sorry.”

  A drop of rain fell on his cheek. They both looked up as a dark cloud drifted in front of the sun, releasing large droplets of water. He helped her to her feet. “You’ll be a marvelous Kate. I can’t wait to see you.” He quickly packed up his kit and they both ran for cover.

  Elisa hurried towards Nicholas House, but stopped when she saw Lucy Ann with five boys, laughing hysterically on the other side of the footbridge. Lucy Ann saw Elisa, and ran across. The boys ran in the opposite direction.

  “Elisa!” Lucy Ann grabbed her arm as they ran through the rain toward Nicholas House. “You should have seen it. I made a dead frog jump from a dissecting dish. I thought Dr. Jenkins would have a fit.”

  By the time they reached their room, they were wet through and shivering. They quickly stripped down to nothing, wrapped themselves in warm robes, and combed out their long wet hair.

  Elisa looked at her plain friend, still chuckling from the silly prank. “Lucy, you’re so lucky. All the boys like you.”

  “They hate me when I make top marks.” Lucy put a finger to her lips. She opened the door, peered out, closed the door, and tiptoed back.

  Elisa made a face. “Whatever are you doing?”

  “Shh,” she whispered, “This is what we were really laughing about.” She opened a heavy biology book, on her bed. “It’s about reproduction.”

  “Of what?”

  “Shh!! Of people.”

  Swifter than lightning, Elisa was next to her friend. Like guilty thieves, they huddled together and read through the chapter word by word. Lucy Ann had it nearly memorized. Elisa was appalled. Was that what Sir John was talking about? Is that what he would teach her to do?

  Lucy Ann closed the book, and put it on a shelf with a dozen others. “People like to do it, when they fall in love.”

  Elisa was still in shock. “Really?”

  “Yes. It feels nice. My father's pharmacy shop is below our flat, and he comes home for lunch when we children are i
n school. We always know the days he and Mummy take a midday tumble, because they smile all through tea. They have seven children, so they must have done it a lot.”

  Both girls dissolved in giggles. Elisa looked at her plain friend, slightly prettier with her long hair strewn loose around her shoulders. “You’re with boys all the time, Lucy Ann. How is it you never fall in love?”

  Lucy Ann rolled her eyes. “I want to be a doctor, Elisa, to go to university. I don’t have time for…” Suddenly embarrassed, she grabbed a comb and violently pulled it through her hair.

  Elisa’s mouth dropped open. “Lucy! Are you in love with someone?”

  She ripped out a rat’s nest. “Your trouble is you’re too pretty. Boys are afraid of you.”

  “Mr. Dennison isn’t afraid of me.”

  Shocked, Lucy Ann stopped. “The art-master?”

  Elisa looked away and started combing her hair.

  Lucy Ann whispered frantically, “Surely, you’re not as daft as that? If it were even suspected that you fancied each other, you’d be expelled. He’d be let go without a reference. He’d never find another position. Not ever.”

  There was a knock on the door. A girl handed in four letters.

  “Thanks, Molly.” Elisa took the letters as the girl continued down the hall. “Here Lucy. Three for you.”

  Lucy Ann took her letters. “I’m serious.”

  “I’m not.” Elisa forced a laugh. “I was joking. Why ever would a grown man fancy a silly schoolgirl?” Turning away, she lay face down on her bed, and tore open her pink envelope. Lucy Ann watched her, then sat down to read her own mail. Elisa smoothed out the pages and dutifully plowed through her aunt’s almanac of village gossip. After tedious listings of who had jilted whom, which apples were best this season and who’s cow had died, Lillian had added a postscript.

  “…You must promise not to say I told you, but a wonderful Christmas surprise is planned. On your birthday, December 23rd, you are to be married. Your father has decided that it is foolish to wait until the end of the school year. Sir John is very happy and has booked passage to Paris for your honeymoon. Oh, my darling, I am so happy for you!”