The Beringer Heiress

by Jan Constant

  Emma was amused. “Well, no, madam, you did not. I believe you described me as a sow’s purse when last we met. ” Molly Rourk laughed gaily, wagging one finger at her listener. “We actors, you know,” she said roguishly. “You must allow us a little license. I remember you as my most promising pupil. If it had not been for that unfortunate little accident with my turban, we would have played to full houses for a week—I know it! ’ ’

  Emma doubted this, but the old excitement began to fill her, and looking at the two hopeful faces turned to her, she knew that she would not refuse owing, as she did, the return of a favor.

  “I’ll do it,” she said. “Let me take the book home with me. . . . But how can we rehearse? Lady Beauvale, with whom I stay, would never allow me to step on a stage.” Accepting this, Sergeant and Mrs. Rourk put their heads together. “We are booked for the day after tomorrow,” she was told. “Can you be word perfect by tomorrow afternoon, and can you contrive to be here then?”

  “I don’t know. ...” Emma began, but seeing the despair on their feces, hurriedly agreed.

  “Three of the clock—and we will take you through it,” the sergeant said, running his fingers through his thinning hair. “Oh Miss B, do not, I beg of you, fail us.”

  “I won’t,” Emma vowed and knew that come what may, she would keep her word.

  Scurrying across the wide expanse of Covent Garden, she had the uneasy feeling of being watched, but on scrutinizing her surroundings she could see no one she knew, only a group of gentlemen in the for comer, deep in conversation in the entrance to the coffeehouse.

  Reaching Cumberland Square in safety, she rang the bell and slipped inside as soon as the door was opened, returning Frobisher’s scandalized expression with a brilliant smile and was about to run upstairs when the study door opened and Sir Julian appeared.

  “Good afternoon, ’ ’ he said pleasantly, crossing to her side. “It seems so long since I saw you, that I half believed you to have been a figment of my imagination. ”

  “A very solid figment,” she could not refrain from pointing out, untying the long strings of her bonnet and removing it.

  To her surprise Sir Julian took her chin in his hand and, turning her face to the light, examined it gravely. Standing as patiently as she could, she returned his regard, growing a little pink under his scrutiny.

  “You are looking better,” he announced. “You have been a little pale lately.”

  At last her chin was free, but instead of stepping back, she stood still, an expression of blank surprise on her upturned face.

  “Miss Beringer—Emma?” There was a puzzled, questioning note in his voice, which brought her back to her surroundings.

  She lowered her gaze, blinking rapidly and hoping that her sudden realization had not been noticed. “H-have you been to the Greek exhibition?” she asked quickly to hide her confusion. “Elvira and I vastly enjoyed it.”

  ‘ ‘So she tells me. I understand that Vivian Devern accompanied you both.”

  “And Johnnie Gray,” she answered, aware of the defensive note in her voice. “You can have no exception, surely?”

  “I will not say that it pleases me.” Julian Leyton stepped nearer again and took her hand in his. ‘ ‘Have a care, Emma, he said softly. “Devern has hurt one of my family already— oh, yes, I know it was years ago, but I would not have it happen again—especially to you. ...”

  Aware of the growing tumult of emotions that had come with the realization that her feelings for her erstwhile guardian were far from impersonal, Emma became flustered, afraid that he would recognize the symptoms of her unexpected

  malady. Intensely frightened that he would be amused by her fragile emotions, she hastily assumed a world-weary air.

  “La, sir,” she said languidly. “I vow that you sound like a bore. Remember, pray, that you no longer have care of me.” And at once could have bitten her tongue.

  Sir Julian dropped her hand and withdrew a pace, his expression cold and remote. “My apologies,” he offered coolly. “I had thought us friends enough to give and accept advice. I see I was mistaken. ”

  With a frosty bow he left her, and Emma, who would have given much to recall her ill-chosen words, retired to her room to calm her shattered equilibrium. Deciding to fill her life with good works rather than contemplate uneasy thoughts, she took a book and went to entertain Maria, who was fast growing impatient of her invalid’s life.

  “Ooh, miss,” she greeted her mistress. “Whatever’s wrong? You look as if you’d lost sixpence!” Looking more closely, she saw Emma’s pink nose and wet eyelashes. “Here, you’re not taking a nasty chill, are you?”

  “I’m perfectly all right,” Emma assured her, ignoring the disbelieving sniff this information produced. “I’ve brought a book to read.”

  Maria seemed unimpressed. “What is it?” she inquired suspiciously. “I don’t care for those where nothing happens except folk prosing on. ”

  “You’ll like this one,” Emma promised, opening the covers of Northanger Abbey. “It’s about a girl who goes to Bath and likes just the kind of Gothic novel you do. ”

  That night Emma retired early, taking “The Sultan’s Slave” with her and when she awoke next morning, despite being heavy-eyed and tired, was fairly confident that she knew her part.

  “Can you cover for me?” she asked Elvira over breakfast and quickly made known the reason.

  Elvira gazed at her wide-eyed and open-mouthed. “You

  can V! ’ ’ she protested as soon as she could speak. “Aunt Diana would never allow it.”

  “Precisely—that is why I have no wish to make my intentions public,” Emma replied.

  “Ju would be furious,” went on the other girl, sounding tom between fear and relish.

  “I know,” agreed Emma, hanging her head, “but I must do it—the Rourks were kind to me when I had nothing. I cannot fail them now. The benefit is really important to them—”

  “If it got about that you had appeared on the stage, you would be ruined! ’ ’ stated her friend positively. ‘ ‘And Heaven knows what Julian would say—or do!”

  “Don’t keep on about your brother,” cried Emma, momentarily losing her attempt at calm. “I know he will be angry if he finds out. . . . And I shall just have to hope that he does not.”

  Elvira sighed heavily. “Just when I thought things might be going well between you two—with the paragon out of the running, I quite thought that you might become my sis—”

  “Elvira!” cried Emma. “How can you say so? The thought has never entered my head.”

  “Pooh! I’ve seen you both looking at each other when you’ve thought no one would notice. And, don’t tell me that you did not arrange that business at the theater, for I will not believe you!”

  Flushing, Emma looked away. “I did not precisely engineer it,” she protested. “I’ll agree that I may have pushed things along a little, but purely because I felt her the wrong person for Sir Julian. ’ ’

  “How noble,” murmured the other, “and how innocent you look.”

  The teasing note in Elvira’s voice made Emma smile faintly, and under the other’s quizzing gaze, she finally gave a little nod. “Well—perhaps it was partly for myself—but the truth is that until yesterday I did not realize that I cared

  for him. He took my chin and turned my face up and— suddenly my heart was pounding, and I felt quite faint.”

  Elvira nodded in agreement. ‘‘Just how I feel every time I see Johnnie,” she said with satisfaction.

  Emma looked up. ‘‘What about Bevis?” she could not forebear asking curiously.

  ‘‘Bevis?” repeated Elvira, as if she had forgotten the name. “Oh, Bevis.” She considered before shaking her dark curls decidedly. “No—nothing like. I think I must have been in love with the idea. What a silly girl I was. I can quite see how annoyed Ju must have been—and what a good thing he refused us leave to marry. Imagine, I could have been wed by now. . . . And dear Johnnie would hav
e been denied me, and I him!”

  She looked about to cry at the thought, and Emma hastily repeated her original question. “I don’t want you to accompany me—indeed, I would rather you did not, for it would distract me,” she added candidly. “But if we could leave the house together . . . ?”

  Elvira looked thoughtful. “I have a fitting for a new gown,” she admitted slowly.

  “The very thing!” cried Emma before she could alter her mind. “You could drop me off at the theater, and I’ll make my own way back. With luck no one except us will be any the wiser.”

  “What about tomorrow night? How will you account for your absence for a whole evening?”

  “I’ll think of something,” said Emma, more positively than she felt. “Anyway, it won’t matter afterward.”

  “It will if Ju finds out,” her companion muttered darkly. “He will not take kindly to it, you know. ”

  “Then we shall have to hope that he never knows. Once it is over, I will have paid my debt—and that will be an end to it.”

  In reality she was unhappy at the thought of Sir Julian’s reaction to her escapade, knowing that he would not approve

  and suspecting that he would have little understanding of her agreeing to such an undertaking. While suddenly finding herself wishing for his approbation, she was in the position of having to take a course of action which she knew would do nothing but bring his censure down upon her, and she felt decidely miserable at the prospect.

  With a few moments to spare before luncheon, she ran up to the attic with the intention of amusing Maria but was surprised to hear sounds of laughter coming from the open door. Peering curiously into the room, she was surprised to see Sir Julian sitting on the invalid’s bed, while a game of spillikins was the cause of the merriment.

  Hearing her entrance, two laughing faces were turned to her, and she was invited to join the game. Not having played since she left school, Emma was somewhat rusty and found herself beaten in acquisition of spillikins by both Maria and Sir Julian, who had a well-developed expertise in the game abetted by a very steady hand. Finding themselves both about to be well and truly trounced, the two girls took to cheating and, by a little judicial nudging and shaking at the appropriate moment, managed to acquire a less shameful score.

  The vigorously beaten luncheon gong sounded through the house, and to almost universal disappointment, Hetty arrived bearing the invalid’s tray.

  “Oh, I enjoyed that ever so! I did, indeed,” Maria said earnestly.

  “We’ll come again,” Sir Julian assured her. “But I, for one, am in need of my lunch. And Mrs. Frobisher would never forgive us if you did less than justice to her lamb cutlets and the apple pie.”

  With a wave and a promise to return, Emma preceded Julian Leyton downstairs and was somewhat surprised to find herself drawn into an inconspicuous comer of the hall and detained in the shadows.

  ‘ ‘Miss Beringer—Emma, we must talk, ’ ’ Sir Julian began, retaining her hand and speaking with a hesitancy which was

  unusual. “I feel—that the fates have conspired against us, making us antagonists when we—when /, and I hope you, would rather be on friendly terms. ”

  Emma longed to agree with him but found herself tongue- tied. Taking her silence for consent, Sir Julian went on, ‘ ‘I am aware that I am not the easiest of men, and, to be honest, I have found my term of guardianship onerous—” He gripped her fingers tighter as she turned an indignant gaze upon him. “Not because I disliked the duties or their cause,” he hastened to reassure her, ‘ ‘but because as your guardian, I had, of honor bound, to keep proper distance.”

  Emma was still silent, staring up at him wide-eyed and amazed, her quick breath ruffling the lace of her collar. Emboldened by her stillness and lack of remonstrance, Sir Julian smiled down into her wide blue eyes. “Dearest girl, it is time we became better acquainted,” he said, “and with that in mind I have booked a box at the theater tomorrow night. Elvira and Lady Beauvale will accompany us—”

  Emma’s heart bounded at first with delight and then with dismay. ‘ ‘The theater! ’ ’ she cried and, in her agitation, could only think of one theater. “Oh, no—I cannot. Do not ask me!”

  Turning aside to hide her face, she pulled her hand free, and Sir Julian made no attempt to retain his grip.

  “I—see,” he said quietly. “I am sorry if I have caused you distress. I had hoped that you returned—” Pulling himself up abruptly, he closed his mouth on the words he had been about to say, instead finishing formally, “My apologies, Miss Beringer, I see I was mistaken.”

  Emma blinked back the tears that threatened to fall and shook her head. “No—no, do not think, I beg of you ... It is only that I cannot!”

  “Pray do not upset yourself. I see that I should not have spoken. Let us forget that this interlude ever happened.” The smile that accompanied this speech nearly broke her resolve, and she was within an ace of confessing all and begging for his help, but, determined to put an end to the embarrassing episode, Sir Julian tucked her hand into his elbow and led her across the hall, and the moment was lost as they joined the others for the midday meal.

  “Well, I cannot think of an excuse for tomorrow evening,” commented Elvira, sounding quite cross, as they left Cumberland Square that afternoon. “Aunt Diana will think it most odd, especially now that Ju has booked a box at the theater—”

  “Not Sadler’s Wells?” cried Emma, voicing a fear that had worried her for hours. “Surely you are not going there?” She sounded so panic-stricken that Elvira hastened to reassure her. “No, no, never fear, we aren’t going to be in the audience for your benefit. But, what are you going to do, Em?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted the other distractedly. “I can’t think of a single valid reason for being absent for the evening. I’ll have to arrange to be kidnapped, or something. I don’t think pleading a headache would work again.”

  “No indeed,” agreed her friend as they arrived at the dressmaker’s establishment. ‘ ‘Shall I call for you? ’ ’ she asked doubtfully, preparing to descend from the vehicle.

  Emma shook her head. “No. I shall make my own way home. . . . And in the meantime I shall be grateful if you would give your mind to finding an excuse for me. ”

  They parted at the door, Elvira to her fitting and Emma to walk the short distance to the theater. Here, she found all in readiness for the rehearsal to begin. Tom and Molly Rourk gave an almost perceptible sigh of relief at her entrance, the sergeant hurrying forward to greet her with exclamations of delight and an extravagant bow.

  “I shall prompt from the wings,” announced his spouse, hobbling to a sofa which had been placed in readiness and arranging herself in as graceful a pose as her plastered leg would allow along its somewhat drab length. “A still, small voice in the dark, so to speak.”

  “I think I know my words,” said Emma nervously.

  “Then—to work. The actors are as before, so there is no need for introductions. So—to work, ” cried Sergeant Rourk, eager to begin, and he quickly set the scene to refresh her memory.

  To her relief Emma found that with the help of aide- memoire pinned strategically to props and even the scenery and furniture, she could manage creditably. The booming voice of Mrs. Rourk issuing from behind the scenery proved a little distracting, but altogether she felt that she would be able to acquit herself with more than reasonable aplomb, and after several hours of intense work, Tom Rourk called a halt, declaring that he was satisfied.

  “Don’t you agree, my love?” he inquired anxiously, peering into the wings.

  “Indeed I do, Mr. R,” his wife called. “A sufficiency would be too much—we must leave it now, while the iron is hot and bring it to the boil tomorrow night. ”

  “How right you are, Molly, my dear,” agreed her husband, apparently understanding this confusing speech without difficulty. “Until tomorrow evening then, Miss B.”

  “Child,” called the actress thrillingly from her couc
h. Obeying the summons, Emma found her with an arm outstretched in a dramatic gesture and allowed her own hand to be taken and clasped to the other’s bosom. “Child!” repeated Molly Rourk in even more thrilling tones. “You have a gift—I declare I see another Sarah Siddons in the making. Your princess may even equal mine. I can say no more.”

  “You have said enough, my love, ’ ’ announced her spouse. “Only a true Thespian could be so generous in praise of another!”

  Mrs. Rourk accepted this with a beatific smile and said complacently, ‘ ‘Our little Miss Emma will prove a pupil worthy of me, mark my words, Mr. R. A veritable Queen Midas, I promise you.”

  “I certainly hope that I have the golden touch, for your

  sakes,” agreed Emma. “I must own to a degree of nervousness. ...”

  ‘ ‘Without nerves one cannot claim to be an actress, ’ ’ Mrs. Rourk told her grandly, while the sergeant nodded sagely. “A little honest fright will put the edge upon the blade, so to speak, polish your shield to perfection and turn your chrysalis of talent into the beauty of immense achievement!”

  Emma blinked under this flow of rhetoric. “I daresay that you are right, Ma’am,” she said weakly, and made good her escape before Mrs. Rourk could confuse her further.

  The afternoon was far advanced, and dusk had begun to fall with faint gray shadows as she left the theater. Hurrying through the streets, she gave her mind to the problem of an excuse to stay behind the following night and so did not notice the ragamuffin figure following her, until the child suddenly ran past, grabbing at her reticule as he went.

  Hanging onto the strings with one hand, Emma fetched the half-grown figure a telling clip over one ear with the other, eliciting a yelp of pain from her would-be assailant. Taken by surprise, die boy clutched his ear and burst into loud sobs.