by Eva Shepherd
‘Let me show you to your rooms,’ Oliver said, leading her up the stairs. She caught Nellie’s eye, who gave her an encouraging smile and nod. But Nellie would have to accept disappointment. They would not be staying at this house, and she would soon be explaining this situation to Oliver.
He opened the door to her room and smiled at her. ‘I hope this is satisfactory.’ If she was actually staying, it would be more than satisfactory. The spacious room, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the garden courtyard, had a light and airy feel. It was a delightfully feminine room, with delicate red and cream wallpaper with a Japanese blossom motif, Persian rugs on the wooden floor and a large four-poster bed. Nellie was right, this would be a very comfortable place to stay. And, once again, her rooms would be adjoining Oliver’s with only an interconnecting door between them.
That was another very good reason for her to not stay at his town house. How many other women was Oliver going to entertain in the room next door to hers? She had promised him freedom, but it did not mean she wanted to be present to witness him exercise it. She shuddered, despite the warmth of the summer’s day. No, that would be asking too much of her. She would have to get used to the thought of him with another woman, but she wanted it all to happen out of sight, then hopefully, it might just be out of her mind as well.
‘Well, I think I’ll go straight to the theatre.’
Oliver moved to one side as she barged past him. ‘But surely you want to get settled in first,’ he said to her retreating back.
She headed towards the stairs. ‘No, the letter said they’re starting rehearsals immediately, so I don’t want to miss a single day.’
‘Then I’ll accompany you.’
‘There’s no need.’ Arabella quickly rushed down the stairs. She did not want Oliver at the theatre. She most definitely did not want to risk some other actress capturing his eye. ‘Honestly, there really isn’t,’ she called back to him.
He caught up with her at the bottom of the stairs. ‘I’d like to accompany you. I love watching you perform and I’ve never seen a play in rehearsal before.’
Arabella paused at the entrance, trying to think of an excuse as he asked a footman to arrange for his carriage to be brought to the front of the house. She could hardly tell him the real reason she did not want him to accompany her. She had already told the other actresses that their marriage was to be one in name only and she knew there were several who more than adequately fitted Oliver’s requirements of wanting to have fun with no commitments. If he was going to have other women in his life, she would rather it not be any she knew.
It looked as though her resolve was about to be sorely tested. With the greatest reluctance she nodded and tried to ignore his obvious smile of delight.
Chapter Eighteen
Arabella’s father had been true to his word. He had promised to inject much-needed funds into the Limelight Theatre and, looking up at the once crumbling façade Oliver could see the transformation. The flaking plaster had been removed, the exterior freshly painted and the broken brown and cream tiles in the entranceway replaced. It now looked like a professional theatre ready to welcome its eager patrons.
The interior was as much a revelation. The previously shabby chairs in the auditorium had been re-upholstered in plush red velvet, a gold-ruched curtain was suspended above the stage and a new, thick purple and gold carpet had been laid to replace the old, threadbare floor coverings.
He looked around the walls and could see modern electric lighting had also been installed. Arabella’s father must have had men working round the clock to complete the renovations before he left for America. It was an impressive sight. The Limelight now rivalled any theatre in the city in terms of opulence.
The cast were assembled on stage and Arabella rushed forward to join them, as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. He took a seat in the auditorium to watch his wife embrace her new life, one that didn’t include him.
As soon as she appeared on stage, she was surrounded by excited actresses, all eager to see the rings on her finger and from Arabella’s awkward stance they were also presumably asking her about married life. Her taciturn answers told Oliver just how reluctant she was to share any information and how uncomfortable she was with their questioning. The director hushed the chatter and Oliver saw a look of relief pass over his wife’s face.
But what else should he expect? Neither of them had wanted to be married. It was hardly a love match or a whirlwind romance. It had all been arranged against her will. She was unlikely to be acting like a love-struck newlywed, all girlish blushes and coquettish simpering.
Their marriage was simply a convenient way for Mr van Haven to get the title he wanted and for Arabella to continue to live the independent life she wanted, unrestricted by the demands of either her father or a husband. Oliver had been true to his word by marrying her. Now it was time for him to step out of her life.
He settled down more comfortably into the plush chair. It would hardly matter if he watched just one rehearsal first.
The cast began a read through of their lines. After a few tentative glances out into the auditorium Arabella seemed to forget about him and he watched as his wife transformed herself before his eyes. She became completely lost in her part, taking on the appearance and the mannerisms of her character, that of a poverty-stricken young woman trying to protect her family from an evil landlord.
Oliver felt himself swell with pride as he watched her performance. There was no denying his wife was extremely talented. He was also pleased he had played a small part in ensuring that she was able to continue doing what she loved and that the world would be able to share her talent, too.
But he wasn’t completely invisible to her. Each time the director interrupted with instructions, she looked out into the auditorium. He sent her what he hoped was an encouraging smile, although he doubted she could see him in the darkened theatre.
* * *
When the rehearsal came to an end the cast all gathered around, talking and laughing, excited by the progress they had already made.
Oliver joined them on stage and everyone except his wife appeared pleased to see him. She was standing alone, staring down at the script clasped in her hands. He would have assumed she was still engrossed in learning her lines, if it wasn’t for the quick, furtive glances she kept sending in his direction.
Slowly the hubbub died down and people started taking their leave, with much kissing of cheeks and theatrical waving of hands.
‘Right, your carriage awaits, m’lady,’ Oliver said with a low bow, getting caught up in the theatrics surrounding him. ‘Shall we return home?’ He extended his arm for her to take.
‘Um...actually, I’ve decided I’ll stay at the boarding house with the other actors.’
Oliver’s extended arm dropped to his side. ‘You’ll what?’
‘It’s just that I don’t want the others to treat me any differently,’ she said, her words coming out in an embarrassed rush.
She had nothing to be embarrassed about, just as he had no right to feel disappointed. It was her choice how she decided to live her life. But that didn’t make it any easier. They would not be spending any more time together. She would not be sharing his bed each night.
‘As you wish,’ he said, trying hard to disguise his disappointment. ‘But allow me to escort you to your new accommodation.’
She shook her head. ‘No. If I’m to try to act like one of the crew, arriving in a carriage with your crest on the door would hardly be appropriate.’
Oliver laughed. ‘I very much doubt if it will be the first time a carriage bearing a duke’s crest has delivered an actress home.’
Her mouth drew into a tight line and she scowled. He had said the wrong thing.
‘If it will make you feel any better, I can offer other members of the cast a ride as well.’ He looked around and gestured
towards the group of actresses watching them with interest from the wings.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ she said hurriedly, frowning in their direction. She inhaled deeply. ‘I’m sorry. Yes, thank you, Oliver, I would like you to give me a ride to my lodgings and if you could please arrange for my trunk to be delivered as well, I would be grateful.’
* * *
The boarding house was even shabbier than Oliver had expected. He accompanied her into her room and tried to hide his shock. With bare wooden floorboards, it was much smaller than her bedchamber at his town house, but contained four single beds. It seemed she would be sharing with three others. The one window, which let in minimal light, looked out on to the brick wall of the neighbouring building, and from the musty smell he suspected the dark paint on the bedroom walls was disguising damp and possibly mould.
And she chose to live here, rather than with him at his town house. Unbelievable.
‘Are you sure about this, Bella?’ He patted a mattress, feeling how thin it was and causing the rusty springs to creak.
‘Yes, of course I am.’
There was a hesitation in her voice. It was clearly his opportunity to convince her of her mistake.
‘You don’t have to stay here. You can always come home to my town house. No one will think any less of you. I’m sure if any of the other actresses had the opportunity to exchange this...’ he gestured around the room ‘...for their own suite of rooms in Mayfair they’d jump at the chance.’
She pulled back her shoulders and glared at him. ‘I don’t care what any other actress would or would not jump at. This is where I want to be.’
He shook his head in disbelief and stared at her. She held his gaze for a moment, then turned and looked out of the window at the non-existent view. He was tempted to argue with her, to insist she come home with him, but he knew it would fall on deaf ears. And who was he to tell her what she could and couldn’t do? She was an independent woman who could make her own choices.
She turned from the window. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get settled in. Will you please arrange for my trunk to be delivered?’
He stood helplessly in the middle of the room, unwilling to leave, even though she was making it clear that his presence was no longer required or wanted.
But leave he must. ‘As you wish.’ He remained standing, unable to move. Once again she looked out of the window at the brick wall.
He gave a slight bow, even though with her back turned she couldn’t see it, and headed down the narrow wooden stairs to his waiting carriage.
It was ridiculous. She was being ridiculous. He climbed into the carriage and looked up at the shabby exterior. She really was determined to do things the hard way. If she didn’t want to stay at his town house, the allowance he had allocated to her meant she had enough money to stay in any of the best hotels in London if she wanted to. Was she also reluctant to take his money? It would seem so. It was obvious she wanted nothing more from him.
Oliver returned to his town house alone. He was now, once again, a free man. He could do anything he wanted.
He looked around the drawing room. It appeared different somehow, as if something was missing, but it was exactly how he had left it just a few weeks ago. He quickly poured himself a glass of brandy, the crystal decanter clinking against the glass. He knew exactly what was missing. Arabella was missing. He had expected them to spend some more time together, had wanted to spend more time with her. He had not tired of making love to her, far from it. He had expected to have her in his bed tonight and for many nights to come. He had hoped to continue what they had started at his Surrey estate. Instead he would have to find other ways to entertain himself. He poured another glass of brandy, tossed it back and wondered how he would spend his evening.
Perhaps he should ask his wife to dine with him.
She didn’t want to live in his house, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to spend time with him. And once they had finished dining, maybe she would like to come back to the town house for a nightcap, and then, perhaps, he could encourage her to stay the night. After all, what harm would one more night together do?
He dismissed that idea. It was ludicrous.
That was not what she wanted. She had made it clear they were now to live as if their marriage had never happened.
And if that was what she wanted, then there was one thing he was certain about. He could not remain at home alone. He had never been a man to ruminate or agonise over what might or might not have been and he wasn’t about to start now.
He grabbed his hat and gloves and asked the footman to hail a cab. He would start at his club and then let the night unfold the way countless other nights had in the past. He might be a married man, but Arabella was getting on with her own life, so it was time he did the same.
* * *
Nellie stood at the entrance of the bedroom, looking just as disapproving as Oliver had earlier that evening.
She placed her suitcase on one of the beds, turned to face Arabella and tilted her head, waiting for an explanation.
‘I know, I know, Nellie, it’s a bit grim, but I had to let Oliver know that I expect nothing from him. And that meant I wouldn’t be living at his town house, nor would I be taking his allowance. I want to do this on my own, to prove to everyone I’m capable of making my way in the world as an actress.’
Nellie sat on the bed, grimaced as it emitted a pained creak, and stood up again.
‘An actress with her own lady’s maid? That’s a bit unusual, though, don’t you think?’ Nellie ran her finger along the dusty mantelpiece and frowned.
‘Yes, about that. I hope you don’t mind, Nellie, but I’ve arranged for you to work at the theatre doing hair, make-up and helping with the costumes.’
Nellie brushed her hands together to rid herself of the dust and smiled. ‘No, of course I don’t mind. It will be fun. And I suppose this won’t be too bad once we’ve got used to it.’
She looked around the room and Arabella could see Nellie was trying to put on a brave face.
‘And after all it’s only temporary,’ Nellie continued. ‘You’ll soon be a famous actress living it up in your own luxurious home and then I’ll have my own hairdressing salon and beauty parlour and be making all those frumpy old toffs look more gorgeous than they thought possible.’
Arabella smiled at her. Nellie was always so supportive and optimistic.
‘Thank you, Nellie,’ she said and began helping her lady’s maid unpack their bags.
Laughter suddenly filled the room as Flora and Harriet, the two other actresses they would be sharing with, burst through the door.
When they saw Arabella, their laughter died and they stared at her as if she was a green-skinned monster.
‘You’re staying here?’ Flora said. They looked at each other, then back at Arabella, their mouths open.
Arabella had expected their reaction. It was the same reaction she had got when she had told the theatre manager that she wanted to stay at the boarding house, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear.
‘Why aren’t you staying with the Duke?’ Flora asked. ‘What’s gone wrong? He hasn’t chucked you over already, has he?’
Arabella bristled, but forced herself to continue hanging dresses in the small wardrobe. ‘No, he hasn’t chucked me over.’ She forced herself to continue in a calm manner. ‘In case you haven’t heard, the Duke and I merely married because my father was determined that I would marry a man with a title. Neither of us wanted the marriage and we have both agreed that we will be man and wife in name only.’
The two wide-eyed actresses looked at each other, then back at Arabella. ‘Well, I had heard something like that, but I didn’t really believe it. If I was you, I wouldn’t care if it was in name only,’ Flora said. ‘I’d be taking advantage of being his wife. I’d be living at his town house and doing my
best to keep that one on a short leash.’
Flora looked over at Harriet, who nodded enthusiastically.
Arabella shrugged, moved the coat hangers along the rack, then back again, and wished they would change the subject.
Flora approached her and placed her hand gently on Arabella’s arm. ‘You do know what sort of man the Duke of Somerfeld is, don’t you, Arabella? He’s a bit of a one for the ladies.’
Yes, Arabella knew that already. Knew it very well indeed. ‘What he does is his own business.’
Flora dropped her hand from Arabella’s arm and narrowed her eyes. ‘So, what are you saying? The Duke can carry on living in exactly the same way as he did before he was married? Seeing who he wants, doing whatever he wants, and you won’t care?’
Arabella’s jaw clenched tightly and her hands gripped the fabric of the nearest dress. She breathed deeply and exhaled slowly to try to free her constricted chest. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’
She could not ignore the gaze that passed between the two pretty actresses. It was obvious what they were thinking. The Duke of Somerfeld was available for the taking, that any woman after some fun with a fabulously wealthy man just had to bat her eyelashes in his direction and she could have everything the Duke had to offer, even if it was just for a short time.
Arabella swallowed to relieve the burning in her throat. That was a reaction from women she was going to have to learn to deal with. She might have shared a few wonderful days with the Duke of Somerfeld, as had many other women before her, but he was not hers. Never had been. Never would be. And she needed to put aside any unwanted feelings of jealousy, to concentrate on her career, to move on and leave the Duke of Somerfeld in the past.
Chapter Nineteen
Oliver rose uncharacteristically early the next morning and arrived at the Limelight Theatre just as rehearsals were commencing. He crept into the auditorium and took a seat upstairs near the back, where he would not be noticed. Then he settled down to watch his wife perform. It wasn’t long before he became absorbed in watching Arabella act, just as she became absorbed in her own performance.