by Mary Nichols
‘The actress?’
‘She may be an actress, but she is also a lady and I could not stand by and watch him force his attentions on her.’
Lavinia shuddered. Once, many years ago, when she was sixteen, Benedict Willoughby had tried the same trick on her and she had been rescued by Frances and James. ‘He always was uncouth. But surely you did not accept the challenge?’
‘No, I sent them away, told them to tell their principal I did not have a quarrel with him that could not be resolved over a glass of brandy at White’s. Goodness knows what he will make of that.’
‘If it gets noised abroad, there will be a terrible scandal.’
‘I can’t help that. I could not stand by and let it happen, could I? In any case, I think Ben will be too ashamed to say anything and you are the only other person who knows.’
‘And Miss Charron, of course.’
‘And Madeleine. But she will not say anything. She is angry with us both.’
‘Madeleine? You use her given name?’
‘Why not? It is how I think of her.’
She looked closely at him. ‘Oh, Duncan, do not tell me you have developed a tendre for her.’
‘What if I have?’
‘I suppose it is not so unusual for a young man to take a fancy to an actress; they are usually very beautiful and exciting and make good mistresses. If you are discreet—’
‘Good God, Vinny, do you think I am as bad as Willoughby? I am deadly serious. I want to marry her.’
‘Oh, Duncan.’ She looked pityingly at him. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I suppose if she is really the granddaughter of a French comte, she might be acceptable, especially if she gives up the stage and begins to live in a more genteel fashion. You would have to talk to Papa about it.’
‘He will ring a peal over me. I do not know if I am ready for that.’
‘He will understand. He once fell in love with someone his parents considered unsuitable and he let her go and married Mama instead and you know they were never happy together.’
‘I never knew that.’ For a moment his thoughts were diverted from Madeleine. His parents had never been loving towards each other and for most of the time had lived apart, but he had been a child, not old enough to realise it was anything out of the ordinary. When the family had so many homes, it was not surprising that husband and wife were not always in the same one. ‘Who was she?’
Lavinia laughed. ‘Why, Stepmama, of course. It was before she married James’s father, the Earl of Corringham. She was not highly born enough for Papa’s parents and they forbade the match. It was not until they were both widowed that they were able to be together.’
‘Why did I never hear of it?’
‘You were away at school most of the time. I learned of it when Papa brought me to London for the first time and took me to Corringham House to have painting lessons.’
‘You think that will make him more sympathetic to my problems?’
‘I don’t see why not. Talk to him. Better still, talk to Stepmama. She will know how to approach him. But I would keep quiet about Mr Willoughby’s challenge, if I were you.’
He did not need to be told that. But what was the point of saying anything at all to his parents when Madeleine herself was so cold towards him? Somehow he must make up their quarrel and tell her how he felt about her, that he would move heaven and earth to marry her and if that meant falling out with his father, then so be it. It reminded him that the next time he saw her, he would be escorting Annabel Bulford.
‘Vinny, you could do me a very great favour,’ he said.
‘I will if I can, you know that, but if you want me to speak to Papa on your behalf, I do not think that would be a good idea.’
‘No, I am perfectly capable of speaking for myself. I am engaged to take the Misses Bulford to the first night of Love’s Labour’s Lost and I wish you and James would come too and make a party of it. I do not want everyone to think that I am taking Miss Annabel exclusively.’
‘I should think not, considering what you have just told me. Why did you ask her in the first place?’
‘I was backed into a corner. Annabel was being enthusiastic about the play and Madeleine herself asked her to go backstage after the performance and she is holding me to taking her.’
‘Oh, dear, what a coil you have got yourself into, brother dear. I hope for everyone’s sake you can find your way out of it.’
‘So, will you come?’
‘I’ll speak to James. If he has no prior engagement, I am sure he will oblige. Don’t worry, I will say nothing of what you have told me. I would like to see the play myself.’
‘Thank you, Vinny. We will have supper at Reid’s afterwards.’
‘Not with Miss Charron, I hope.’
He grinned lopsidedly. ‘No, I do not think that would be a wise move.’
The last dress rehearsal for Love’s Labour’s Lost, which Lancelot had decided to put in a contemporary setting, maintaining that Shakespeare was always up to date, had taken place early in the morning, leaving the cast free to spend the afternoon in whatever way they chose to prepare themselves for the first night. Some went to bed, others sat about talking, playing whist for farthings or muttering their lines. Marianne and Madeleine decided to accept Sir Percy’s offer of a carriage ride in the park.
It was a beautiful day, with hardly a cloud and the ladies, in sprigged muslin gowns with small puffed sleeves, sheltered under frilled silk parasols as they rode side by side for all the world like the elegant women of the ton who used a ride in the park to see and be seen, to look around to see who was favouring whom and keep up with the gossip. That they belonged to the grey world of the demi-monde was not immediately apparent. Sir Percival Ponsonby was known as an eccentric, but his antecedents were impeccable and he was well liked. They would not be snubbed while they were with him, even though he was wearing an outrageous green and white striped coat and a purple waistcoat.
‘It seems the news of your illustrious grandpère has spread, Miss Charron,’ he said, as everyone acknowledged them. ‘You are being courted. How many invitations have you had?’
She laughed. ‘Too many to count. But I know it is only empty curiosity and so I do not go.’
‘It is the mystery that surrounds you,’ he said. ‘They love a mystery and refusing to go only deepens it.’
‘Yes, Marianne told me you thought I should make a push to solve it. I did try but achieved nothing.’
‘Pity, that.’
‘Oh, it is of no consequence, Sir Percy. I have lived all my life until now without knowing. I can continue in ignorance.’
‘But, my dear, surely you wish to make a good marriage?’
‘If you mean by good, one that is based on love, then, yes, of course I would like that, but not one dependent on whether my grandfather was a nobleman or not. I would as lief remain single.’
He smiled and reached across to pat her hand. ‘I understand, my dear, but you know it is the way of the world. A man can be ostracised for making a marriage that Society considers in any way unusual and that does not only mean being given the cut direct. It can affect his standing in the community so that instead of being respected, he is derided and then he cannot govern his land and his people properly. His associates do not trust him in business matters, his servants are disrespectful, particularly to his wife, and that is passed on to everyone about them. It is downhill all the way.’
She gave a cracked laugh. ‘I am not contemplating marrying into the top one hundred, Sir Percy.’
‘No?’ he queried, lifting his black-lined eyebrows almost into the curly black wig he wore.
‘Maddy has fallen out with the haut monde,’ Marianne put in, with a sympathetic smile towards her friend.
‘What, all of them?’
‘Not you, Sir Percy,’ Madeleine hastened to assure him. ‘But the others. They have only one thing on their minds and vie with each other on how t
hey achieve it. Do you know Mr Willoughby and the Marquis of Risley were arguing about whose turn it was? Do you wonder I gave them both the right about?’
‘How very uncivil of them,’ he murmured. ‘I would not have believed that of Stanmore.’
‘It was Mr Willoughby who said it. Du— His lordship knocked him down.’
He laughed. ‘Did he? I should have liked to have seen it.’
‘It is not a laughing matter, Sir Percy. Mr Willoughby challenged the Marquis to a duel.’
‘The devil he did!’
‘I was mortified. Lord Risley said he would not fight him, but I do not think Mr Willoughby will let it rest and I am afraid his lordship’s sense of honour will force him to accept. I am so worried they will harm each other. I am not worth it, Sir Percy. I would rather die myself…’
‘Oh, no need for that, m’dear,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Young men are always challenging each other. They will shake hands and make up, you’ll see.’
‘Can you make them do that, Sir Percy?’ Marianne asked. ‘Can you intervene?’
‘You may be sure I will speak to them.’
‘Thank you.’
They had come to the end of the North Ride and the carriage was turned to take them back to the Cumberland Gate, where they set off towards Oxford Street.
‘Will you be in your box tonight, Sir Percy?’ Marianne asked, as they neared home.
‘Of course. I would not dream of missing the start of a new play. Would you both do me the honour of dining with me afterwards?’
‘Thank you,’ they said together.
At least that would save her from the young blades who besieged the stage door wanting to take her out, Madeleine thought. It was only curiosity; she had been right about that. But it was not only the young dandies that filled her with apprehension, it was the prospect of meeting Duncan Stanmore with Miss Annabel Bulford.
The knot inside her was tighter than ever by the time the curtain rose on the first scene. She stood in the wings, her heart beating so loudly she wondered that those sitting in the front row did not hear it. Luckily as the Princess of France, she did not appear until the beginning of the second act and by that time the audience had settled down and so had her nerves. The play absorbed her to the exclusion of everything else and by the time the final curtain went down, she had almost forgotten the ordeal ahead of her.
The applause was enthusiastic; several of the audience stood up to cheer and call her name. She took several curtain calls before she was allowed to leave the stage and return to her dressing room. Sir Percy was already there, lounging in a chair while Marianne undressed behind a screen. Madeleine joined her to take off her costume and slip into a dressing robe of blue quilted satin, before emerging and sitting before the mirror to clean off the stage paint. She had hardly had time to brush out her hair before a page ushered in the Marquis of Risley, the Earl and Countess of Corringham, and the Misses Bulford.
She rose but did not curtsy. This was her world, a world where she was queen and she could observe protocol or not as she pleased. And at the moment it did not please her. ‘Good evening, my lords,’ she said. ‘Ladies. As you see, I have not quite finished my toilette.’
Duncan was lost in admiration, not only of her coolness but her beauty. With her dark hair flowing loose over her shoulders and her face clean and shining from the cream she had used to remove the paint, she looked adorable. If the room had not been packed to suffocation with people, he would have taken her in his arms, talked softly to her as one would to a frightened kitten and convinced her of his sincerity. He wished everyone, his sister and brother-in-law, Sir Percy and Miss Doubleday, and especially the Bulford women anywhere but where they were, standing round gaping.
It was Annabel who broke the silence. ‘My goodness, you do not have much room in here, do you? However do you manage?’
‘Oh, we are quite used to it,’ Madeleine said.
‘And are these your costumes? There are so many. I wonder you have time to change them between scenes.’
‘We do have a dresser to help us,’ Marianne said laconically. ‘And when there are only two sharing, there is room enough. Changing costumes, like learning lines by heart, is all part of the job.’
‘It must be very exciting,’ Annabel went on, ignoring her sister who was looking round disdainfully. ‘Miss Charron, I must congratulate you on your performance tonight. I was quite mesmerised by it all and was sad when it all came to an end.’ She turned to the others. ‘Marquis, do you not agree?’
‘Oh, wholeheartedly,’ he said, looking directly at Madeleine.
‘Do you never forget yourself and find you are acting a part when you are off stage?’ Hortense asked.
Duncan held his breath as Madeleine looked hard at her questioner. And then she laughed lightly. ‘Hardly ever, Miss Bulford, hardly ever.’
‘And do you always play the lead? Do you never play the nurse or a servant?’
Madeleine laughed again, almost recklessly, making Duncan wonder why. ‘I have done in the past, Miss Bulford. Oh, yes, I know how to play the servant as well as the princess. After all, are we not all women when we take off our clothes?’
Sir Percy chuckled aloud at this and Hortense turned to glare at him. ‘Disgraceful,’ she said, though she did not make it clear just what it was she found so deplorable. ‘Annabel, have you seen enough? I find the air in here almost unbreathable.’
‘Then we must go,’ Duncan said. ‘Come, Miss Bulford, Miss Annabel.’ And with a glance towards the others, he ushered the entire party out with only the briefest word of thanks to Madeleine.
‘Whew!’ Marianne said, when they had gone. ‘Did you ever meet anyone more on their dignity than the elder Miss Bulford? And what was that about servants?’
‘I don’t know,’ Madeleine said. ‘I think she may have recognised me, guessed who I am.’
‘What do you mean, recognised you?’ Sir Percy demanded. ‘Are you known to her?’
‘Oh, yes, she knows me all right, and so does Annabel. It was a long time ago. I had hoped they would not remember me.’
‘Go on, gel, you’ve got this far, you might as well tell us the whole. I won’t tattle about it, but I might be able to help.’
‘When my mother died, I didn’t appear to have any family. Our neighbours took me to an orphanage. When I was old enough to work, they sent me to Bedford Row to be a servant to the Bulfords. I worked in the kitchen there for three years and then they turned me off and I found work as a seamstress and then I came to the theatre and Marianne took me under her wing. That is my history, no more, no less.’
‘And the French comte?’
Madeleine shrugged and then laughed. ‘He is an interesting character, is he not? He has certainly kept the gabblegrinders busy these last few weeks and he has filled theatre seats. We have never had such full houses and as the actors are paid a percentage, they are all pleased.’
‘It is not the comte who has filled the seats, it is the chance to see two fine actresses bringing the stage to life,’ he said firmly. ‘The theatre has never been so blessed, not even when Mrs Jordan and Sarah Siddons trod the boards.’
‘Why, thank you, kind sir,’ Marianne said, curtsying.
‘I suppose you are going to tell me to make a clean breast of it,’ Madeleine said.
‘That is entirely your affair,’ he said with a smile. ‘But why spoil something that is working so well?’
Madeleine looked from one to the other. ‘I do not see how you can make light of it.’
‘Best way, m’dear,’ he said. ‘A merry jest.’
‘The Marquis of Risley will not think so. He presented me to the Duke and Duchess. They will be furious.’
‘Oh, I do not think so,’ he said airily. ‘Come, let us go to supper, I am gut-foundered, begging your pardon for the vulgarity.’ He offered them an arm each and thus they left the theatre for the short walk to Reid’s.
When they arrived Madeleine was horrified to f
ind the Marquis of Risley and his party already seated at one of the tables. She held back, but Sir Percy kept a tight hold on her elbow, as they were ushered to the table he had booked. ‘Nil desperandum,’ he whispered in her ear, at the same time nodding a greeting towards those at the other table. ‘Remember your grandfather.’
She could not remember her grandfather because she had never known him, and thinking about the fictitious comte, made the colour flood to her face. Never had she regretted that Banbury tale more than she did now. Duncan, though pretending to pay attention to his guests, was watching her settle in her seat with a strange light in his eye, almost as if he had guessed the truth. Or perhaps Hortense Bulford had already whispered it to him. She squirmed and turned away, unable to meet that steadfast gaze.
‘Now, let me see,’ Sir Percy said. ‘What shall we have? There is turbot and oysters, which I am partial to, but perhaps they are too commonplace for ladies. Shrimps, perhaps?’
‘I am not at all hungry,’ Madeleine said. Even with her back to the other table she could feel Duncan’s gaze on her. It was making the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.
‘Then shrimps in a light sauce should do you very well, my dear.’ Percy was determined to keep her attention so that she could not hear what was being said at the other table. ‘Followed by partridge and a little roast pork and vegetables. What do you think?’
‘That will be plenty for me,’ she said.
He ascertained that Marianne was happy with his choice and gave the order to the waiter who hovered at his elbow. ‘And wine,’ he said. ‘The best you have in the cellar.
‘Now,’ he said, leaning forward, ‘we will converse about the play. Until tonight it was not one of my favourites, but now I can see hidden depths. People in disguise wanting to be loved for themselves alone, very good.’
‘But they all end up with the right people,’ Marianne put in.
‘Oh, yes, you see, bloodlines will out. There is something about the way a lady of breeding holds herself, you know. Straight back. Head up. Chin in. And the voice. You cannot disguise the voice.’
Madeleine laughed. ‘You can if you are an actress.’