Cries came from every direction, and Samantha wondered how anyone could tell what was going on with so much noise on all sides. But the people around her did not seem to mind the noise or the crowds. They moved with ease among the throngs, purposeful looks on their faces.
Samantha sighed wistfully. Soon she too would be able to move about London’s streets just as though she’d always lived here. “Look, Hester. Just look at the people. So many.”
“Humph!” Hester’s opinion of the city needed no more words. It was obvious that she had no use for such an iniquitous place.
“Now, Hester. You’re here and here to stay.” Samantha smiled at the old maidservant. “You might as well make the best of it.”
Hester snorted again. “I said as I’d come an’ I did. Can’t let you come to such a place alone. But I don’t got to like it. And I won’t.” And with this ultimatum Hester resumed her position of eyes straight ahead, back ramrod straight.
“I really do appreciate your coming with me,” soothed Samantha. “I can’t tell you how much.”
To this Hester made no reply, and Samantha said no more, once again giving her attention to the streets around her. And then the carriage drew to a halt.
Samantha climbed out and supervised the unloading of their boxes to the pavement. She gave the coachman his fee and then stood looking around. She was directly in front of number 36, Leadenhall Street, where her father’s solicitor, Mr. Pomroy, kept his office. But it was not to that building that Samantha’s eyes were drawn, but to number 33. In the niche above the door stood a helmeted statue of Minerva leaning on a tall spear, shield in her other hand. Through the door came several well-dressed ladies who paused to nod at a pair of gentlemen on the pavement. Here was another of the London landmarks that her father had mentioned. “Look, Hester. It’s the building of the Minerva Press. Their lending library is there too.”
Hester looked, and what appeared to be a smile curved her thin lips. She had no use for the theatre, but the printed word was quite another thing. Hester’s only vice, if such it could be called, was the reading of romances. Samantha had at first found this appetite of Hester’s rather incongruous, but then, considering her own obsession, she had wisely decided to let Hester enjoy her kind of literature in peace.
A shop boy came running out of Mr. Pomroy’s office and tugged the boxes in. Samantha and Hester followed, and before long they were seated in the solicitor’s private office.
Mr. Pomroy nodded at Samantha. She had not seen him for several years, but he had not changed. He was still the short, stout, bald man who had been her father’s solicitor and her friend.
“Your letter did not give me any indication of the time of your arrival,” said Mr. Pomroy with a worried frown. “I would have sent someone to meet you.”
“That wasn’t necessary,” said Samantha with a warm smile. “I could not know for sure when we would arrive.”
Mr. Pomroy shook his head. “You do not understand the city, Miss Samantha. It is not a place for a young woman to go about alone.”
“I am not alone,” Samantha replied. “Hester has come with me.”
Mr. Pomroy shook his head, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “You are two women. No insult intended to Miss Hester, but two women alone in the city -”
“I ain’t insulted,” said Hester firmly. “I been telling her the same thing myself.” Hester’s thin lips pressed together primly. “But she’s a stubborn one, won’t listen to nobody.”
Mr. Pomroy’s round face creased momentarily into a smile. “I’m afraid you’re right, Miss Hester. She is a stubborn one, but between the two of us perhaps we can protect her.”
“Humph!” Hester snorted indelicately. “I got my doubts ‘bout that. Wait’ll you hear what she’s planning to do.”
Mr. Pomroy looked slightly uncomfortable and wiped at his wet forehead with a large white handkerchief. “What exactly are you planning to do?” he asked Samantha.
“It’s really quite simple.” She smiled at him reassuringly. “I plan to devote my life to the theatre.”
Mr. Pomroy’s round face reflected dismay. “An actress! Miss Samantha, such a course of action is impossible.”
“No, no, Mr. Pomroy. I don’t wish to be an actress. I know that that takes an early start. I simply mean to get a job behind the scenes. Perhaps as a seamstress or a dresser. That way I can be backstage. I can know the actors and actresses. I can see the plays come to life.” As she spoke, Samantha’s eyes began to glow and her face to grow animated.
“Miss Samantha.” Mr. Pomroy seemed almost unable to speak. “You - you cannot take such a job. Why, why it would expose you to the worst elements of London.”
“Actors are now respected people,” said Samantha with a spark in her eye.
“I don’t speak of actors,” said Mr. Pomroy. “I speak of the bucks that congregate in the greenrooms.”
“I have no use for lords,” said Samantha. “I shall not be bothered by them.” This was not quite the truth, for the solicitor’s words had evoked in her mind a very vivid picture of the darkly handsome features of the Earl of Roxbury. It was not a picture designed to put a young woman at her ease, since her imagination insisted on presenting her with a picture of the earl when he had been regarding her with that strangely piercing look. Still, she meant what she said. She had no use for lords, Roxbury least of all!
Mr. Pomroy swallowed several times uncomfortably. “Please! Miss Samantha. You do not understand. You are a young woman - if I may say so - an attractive young woman. And these lords - they would not be aware of your rightful station in life.” He swallowed again. “One does not expect to find a young woman of breeding employed as a menial in such a place. You - you will be insulted.”
“Nonsense! I am quite capable of taking care of myself.” Samantha was not as convinced of this as she sounded, but she was not about to cry craven when she was this close to her goal. If any toplofty lord approached her, she would give him such a cool setdown that it would be months before he badgered a poor female again. She turned all her charm on the little solicitor “Really, Mr. Pomroy. I have quite made up my mind. You cannot dissuade me from my purpose. I am quite firmly set on it. Now! Will you help me find rooms, or must I do that myself?”
“My dear Miss Samantha.” Now Mr. Pomroy was plainly distraught. “Of course I will help you. You know whatever I say is for your own good.”
Samantha nodded. “Yes, my dear friend, I know that. Now” - she made her voice firm - “I want rooms as close to the theatres as possible. Someplace near Drury Lane - or Covent Garden.”
Mr. Pomroy looked about to protest but thought better of it. “Very well, Miss Samantha.” His forehead wrinkled again. “It would be much more sensible to take some rooms around Piccadilly or St. James’s Square. But perhaps we can find something suitable on Bow Street. I know of a respectable landlady there. Yes, yes. Bow Street it shall be. But Miss Samantha, please, you really must have a male servant on the premises. A lady in London simply cannot exist without a male servant.”
“All right, Mr. Pomroy, you may find me a male servant. But please, no young footmen who aspire to be more of a lord than their master. I want no such in my establishment.”
“No, no, Miss Samantha. I’ll send you one of my own men. Jake has been with me for a long time. He will serve you well. He’ll be company for Miss Hester, and he knows his way around the city.”
“Fine, Mr. Pomroy. You’re a true friend. I greatly appreciate your help in this matter.”
Mr. Pomroy almost beamed. “It’s nothing, nothing. I’m glad to do anything I can to be of assistance.”
He moved toward the door. “I will just inform my clerk that I am going out for a while. Then we’ll take my carriage to Bow Street. Let me see, her name is Mrs. Gordon, a fine woman, a widow. Her husband was a friend of mine. A good man, but a trifle impecunious. I helped her set up in this house, and she rents lodgings. A good woman.”
“That sounds
fine,” Samantha replied.
* * **
Mrs. Gordon turned out to be a buxom, bustling little woman with a cheerful smile and a wonderful welcoming way about her. “Why, of course I’ve rooms for a friend of Mr. Pomroy’s,” she said, clasping her soft white hands over her plump stomach. “You just come right in, my dear. Right in. It’s just a lucky thing, my former tenant left a week past, and I hadn’t found anyone to replace her. It’s hard these days. I run a respectable house, you see. And so many young ladies these days -” Mrs. Gordon sighed deeply. “It’s just not like the old days. Young women wanting to receive gentlemen in their rooms!” She raised an indignant eyebrow. “It’s indecent, that’s what it is.”
“There is no need to worry about gentlemen as far as I’m concerned,” said Samantha strongly. “I know no gentlemen in London, nor do I intend to make the acquaintance of any.”
Mrs. Gordon seemed slightly taken aback by this statement. “Well now, I don’t mean to be overstrict. That is to say, if you want to receive a young gentleman, and your maid was to stand by - Why, I guess there wouldn’t be no harm in that.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Gordon, but really I don’t believe there will be any callers. I have not come to London to become a social butterfly. I am here to do some very serious work.”
“Ah, yes, I see.” Mrs. Gordon strove valiantly to set her features in a serious mold, but the cheerful roundness of her cheeks and the friendliness of her eyes made such an attempt ineffective. She was, however, silenced, and with the help of Mr. Pomroy’s coachman they got their boxes up to the rooms.
Samantha accompanied Mr. Pomroy to the door. “I have one more favor to ask of you,” she said.
Mr. Pomroy looked slightly apprehensive, but he replied immediately. “Of course, Miss Samantha. What is it?”
“I want to go to the theatre as soon as possible. Can you get seats for tomorrow evening, and will you accompany me?”
The little solicitor’s relief was obvious. “Yes, yes. I shall take you to see Kean. He’s doing Richard III. The man is superb. Such fire. Such power.”
“Why, Mr. Pomroy.” Samantha gave him a teasing smile. “I had no idea that you were a devotee of the theatre.”
The solicitor looked somewhat sheepish. “Of course I keep up with the stage. How could I do otherwise, living in the city as I do? But I do not carry my devotion so far as you, my dear. Really -”
Samantha raised a detaining hand. “Please, Mr. Pomroy, I have made up my mind. I intend to work in the theatre in whatever capacity they will have me.”
“Very well. Very well. I shall be by for you with the carriage shortly after six.”
“Good. And thank you.”
Samantha closed the door and turned back to Hester. “Well, we had best get to work. I want to get settled in today.”
Hester barely refrained from answering this with one of her snorts, but she removed her bonnet and set to work unpacking boxes.
So it was that some time later, when a brisk knock on the door announced the arrival of Mr. Pomroy’s man, Jake, all the contents of the boxes had been sorted and put away. Samantha went to the door herself, since Hester was occupied in the bedchamber. The man who stood there was certainly not young. His gnarled hands and lined face spoke of years of labor. There was something about him that Samantha immediately liked.
“My name is Jake,” he said with a grin. “Mr. Pomroy sent me.”
“Come in, Jake.” Samantha found herself grinning in return. “We’ll be glad to have your help in getting around the city.”
“And I’ll be glad to give it, miss. I been in the city many years, and I knows my way around.”
A slight sound behind her caused Samantha to turn. There stood Hester, her face set in a strange expression that Samantha finally recognized as a smile. “This is Hester,” she said. “You and she are my entire establishment here in the city.”
“When you got the two of us,” Jake said with another grin, “you don’t need nobody else.”
“Good,” replied Samantha. And so it was that Jake became a member of the household.
Chapter 2
Next evening Samantha stood before the old cheval glass with a smile. Her dream was about to come true. She was going to see a Shakespearean play, a real play on a real stage!
They had not had many callers in Dover, but they had received several London papers. The Morning Chronicle, she remembered, had been rather strong in its praise of Kean in the role of Richard III. “He is more refined than Cooke, more bold, varied and original than Kemble,” the Chronicle’s reviewer had written. And now she was going to see the great man in action.
She eyed her best gown. It was not exactly new, having been purchased several years previous, but it still fit well and it was not stained. She wondered if such plain white muslin gowns were still in fashion, but the thought was not particularly disturbing to her. She was going to the theatre to see, not to be seen.
She grabbed up bonnet and gloves as the sounds of altercation echoed from the small room that served as a sitting room. She was grateful for Mr. Pomroy’s offer of the man Jake, but it was obvious that Hester and Jake did not deal well together. The new man was not at all reluctant to voice his opinion on household matters, and Hester was not about to surrender her prerogative in such things. Their present difference of opinion seemed to be centered on the placement of a particular chair, she saw as she entered the room.
“You ain’t got the idea a-tall,” said Jake in a voice of such smug reasonability that Samantha wondered that Hester did not throw something at him. “If you set the chair here, Miss Samantha can have the morning sun at her back. Over there, it’s gonna hit her smack in the peepers.”
Hester gave him a disdainful look. “You don’t know nothing about such things,” she said firmly. “Miss Samantha ain’t going to be sitting in this room in the morning. In the morning women’s got work to do.”
Jake shook his head, but his grin remained wide. “You’re a stubborn one, Hester. I grant you that.”
“Stubborn I may be,” said Hester grimly, “but I don’t need no city man telling me so.”
Samantha decided it was time to interrupt. “Hester. Jake. Must you always be at each other? You’re like a couple of hissing cats.”
Jake turned a smiling face toward her. “We don’t mean nothing by it, miss. It serves to pass the time, that’s all.”
Samantha suspected the truth of this statement, but she did not reply to it. “Come, Hester, tell me if my hair is secured properly. Do I look all right?”
“You should get one of them new haircuts,” said Jake. “Alla Titus, they calls ‘em. Short and curly and all tumbled up.”
“Miss Samantha got beautiful long hair,” said Hester stiffly. “Why for should she cut it all off?”
“To be fashionable,” said Jake. “All the ladies in the ton dotes on fashion. They can’t talk about nothing else.”
Hester snorted. “That shows what sense you got. Anyway, Miss Samantha don’t set up to be no lady.”
Jake winked. “That don’t make no never mind to me. I ain’t been in London all these years without knowing a lady when I sees one.”
“Thank you, Jake.” Samantha smiled. “This is a special night for me. My first time at the theatre.”
The lines on Hester’s face deepened. “That terrible abomination! I wish you’d never heard of that Shakespeare person.”
Samantha was about to speak out in defense of her dream, but she was forestalled by the loquacious Jake. “The theatre’s a great place,” he said. “Ain’t no ‘bomination there. Me, I go whenever I can. After the third act, when the price is lower.”
“Kean,” cried Samantha. “Have you seen Kean?”
Jake nodded. “Course I have. ‘Tis a great man he is. Little, mind you. Not taller than yourself, I’d guess. But, oh, when he’s a-playing a part, why you’d swear he swells up to bigger ‘an normal. Oh, I ain’t never seen such a great ‘un.”
; “The two of you is both tetched in the head,” scolded Hester. “Them plays is wicked. People pretending to be what they ain’t. It’s wrong.”
“But, Hester, you don’t understand. The theatre is good.” Samantha felt frustration again. She and Hester had been over this so many times, and to no avail. “What’s wrong with pretending?”
“Sure there’s nothing wrong with a man fergetting his troubles fer a little while, now is there?” said Jake.
Hester considered this but did not reply.
“Sometimes the play makes me laugh,” continued Jake. “And sometimes it makes me cry. But it always makes me feel better.”
“Foolishness,” said Hester grimly. “Pretending to be what they ain’t.”
“Have you ever seen a play?” asked Jake suddenly.
Hester drew herself up stiffly. “Course I ain’t. Don’t intend to neither. I only come to London to look out for Miss Samantha in this wicked place.”
“If you seen a play,” said Jake, “if you seen Kean, you’d soon change your tune.”
“Well, I ain’t -” Hester began, but she was interrupted by a noise below stairs.
“That must be Mr. Pomroy,” said Samantha. “Quick, Hester, my cloak and bonnet.”
Hester hurried forward with the required articles, and when Mr. Pomroy reached the little room, only slightly red in the face from his exertions on the stairs, Samantha was ready to go.
“It’s really kind of you to do this for me,” she began, but Mr. Pomroy waved aside her thanks.
“Nonsense, Miss Everett. I love the theatre. And to witness your first exposure to Kean will be quite a pleasure for me.”
“Like to see that myself,” said Jake in a voice clearly audible.
A slight frown creased Mr. Pomroy’s forehead, but he made no comment to his former servant. He turned to Samantha. “We’d best be going. The doors open at six thirty, and the crush will be just dreadful tonight. This is Kean’s first night as Richard this season. Everyone will be there.”
Love Plays a Part Page 2