No Occupation for a Lady

by Gail Whitiker

  ‘He accused me of...twisting the truth to suit my own purposes.’ Victoria’s chin came up even as tears scalded her eyes. ‘He called us a family of actors and storytellers, then accused me of lying to him when I told him I was Valentine Lawe.’ She shook her head and the tears spilled over. ‘I always knew there was very little chance of my having any kind of future with Alistair, but I never wanted it to end like this.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Laurence said. ‘Truly I am. If there had been any other way, I would have taken it, but this was the only way out of a bad situation.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t,’ Victoria flung at him. ‘You could have told me what you were planning to do. Given us time to talk about it.’

  ‘There wasn’t time. I didn’t even know what I was going to do until Sir Michael asked you the question. And even if there had been time, I’m not sure I would have told you.’ He stepped towards her and took her hands in his. ‘I knew you wouldn’t have gone along with it.’

  ‘Of course I wouldn’t!’ Victoria jerked her hands free. ‘Not only is Mr Devlin thoroughly disgusted with me, but now you have become an integral part of the deceit. You have thrown yourself into the fire, Laurence, without sparing a thought for what it will do to your future!’

  ‘Yes, well, let’s not worry about that right now,’ Laurence murmured. ‘There are more important considerations, like the fact that by this time tomorrow, most of London will have heard that I am Valentine Lawe.’

  She wanted to stay angry with him and to lash out at him for everything he’d done, but when she stopped to consider the bigger picture, Victoria realised that hers was not the only life that had changed this afternoon. Her brother’s confession might have taken her out of the public eye—but it had dropped him squarely into the middle of it. ‘Do you really think Sir Michael will put it about so quickly?’ she asked.

  ‘I do. It will puff up his consequence to be known as the man who revealed the identity of Valentine Lawe...which means we have no choice but to prepare ourselves for what lies ahead. Father is writing a note to Uncle Theo as we speak and we must tell Mama and Winifred as soon as they return.’

  ‘They are not going to be happy about this,’ Victoria said grimly.

  ‘Trust me; they’re going to be a damned sight happier than if we had to tell them it was you who had confessed rather than me!’

  * * *

  The truth of Laurence’s words was borne out in a very short time. Within half an hour, Theo and Tandy arrived at Green Street and, not long after, Mrs Bretton and Winifred returned from their shopping expedition. They all gathered in the drawing room and were told the startling news.

  ‘Gracious, Laurence, whatever prompted you to make such a claim?’ Aunt Tandy asked in wide-eyed astonishment. ‘You? Of all people...a famous playwright?’

  ‘I had no choice,’ Laurence said. ‘Had I remained silent and allowed Victoria to admit to her part in the subterfuge, we would all have been cast in a terrible light.’

  ‘We still are,’ Victoria muttered. ‘All we’ve done is cover a lie with a lie.’

  ‘Be that as it may, I think it exceedingly decent of Laurence to step into the role,’ Uncle Theo said proudly. ‘I see where he felt it was the right thing to do.’

  ‘Oh, yes, you would, wouldn’t you!’ Mrs Bretton snapped. ‘In fact, you’re very happy that it is now Laurence who has taken ownership of this wretched lie, rather than Victoria.’

  ‘I don’t see it as being the problem you make it out to be, sister-in-law.’

  ‘Really? Has it not occurred to any of you that Laurence has never so much as written a word?’ Mrs Bretton said. ‘And now he is going to parade around London as a famous playwright? How long is that deception going to hold up, do you think?’

  The same thought had occurred to Victoria, though she hadn’t had the heart to say anything. She was the only one who knew that a few years earlier Laurence had written a novel that had been turned down by several London publishers. It had been a difficult pill for him to swallow, especially given that her second play had just opened to such rave reviews.

  Laurence, however, having committed himself to the part, was clearly intent on carrying it through. ‘It’s

  really not so bad when you think about it. After all, I have only to play the public face of Valentine Lawe. Victoria can still write the plays and Uncle Theo can continue to produce them. In some ways, it really is an ideal solution to the problem.’

  ‘You’ll forgive me if I do not share your optimism,’ his mother said tightly.

  ‘Nor do I,’ Winifred spoke up. ‘Since when did telling lies become an ideal solution to anything?’

  ‘Generally, I would agree that it is not,’ Uncle Theo said in an effort to be conciliatory. ‘But in this instance, I think Laurence is right. When telling a small untruth protects the names and reputations of so many without doing any real harm, surely the ends justify the means.’

  ‘A small untruth?’ Mrs Bretton repeated aghast. ‘Do you really expect me to think of this as a small untruth?’

  ‘You must think of it that way, Mama,’ Laurence said quietly. ‘It’s not as though I’ve hurt anyone. There is no stigma attached to a gentleman being a playwright, and now that I have proclaimed myself to be Valentine Lawe it frees all of us from the taint of scandal. Victoria and Winifred need have no fear about moving in society again and they will be free to receive the attentions of whichever gentleman cares to offer them. I dare say even Mr Fulton will show an interest in you again now, Winnie, though I’m not sure I would be as welcoming towards him if this is all it takes to turn him up sweet.’

  ‘You have no idea how Mr Fulton is going to react,’ Winifred said stiffly. ‘And I think it grossly unfair of you to accuse him of being fickle. We don’t know the rumours about Victoria are what drove him away.’

  ‘You seemed fairly settled on that score a few days ago,’ Victoria pointed out.

  ‘Let us not stray from the matter at hand,’ her father said. ‘The fact is, the news about Laurence’s being Valentine Lawe is going to make the rounds very quickly and, while I agree it is not the course of action any of us would have chosen, I think it behoves us all to go along with it.’

  ‘Mr Bretton, surely not!’

  ‘Well, what would you have us do, my dear?’ he asked his wife in frustration. ‘You’ve told me more than once that our daughters’ chances of making good marriages have suffered for Victoria’s occupation and now you have been offered relief in the form of Laurence taking up the role. I’m not saying I like the deceit any better than you, but under the circumstances it does seem to be the answer to several of our most pressing problems. It is Laurence who must bear the burden of what is to come. I just hope, for his sake, he is ready for it.’

  * * *

  Her father’s words turned out to be strangely prophetic. Within days, word of Laurence’s transition from quiet scholar to celebrated playwright swept through the drawing rooms of society and the reaction to the news was both unexpected and gratifying.

  The most immediate benefit was that invitations began arriving again, both from people with whom the family had socialised in the past, and from those with whom they had not. Hostesses who had been censorious

  of Victoria suddenly became welcoming again and all were anxious to hear more about the dashing brother who had been revealed as the romantic playwright.

  Laurence himself began receiving invitations to literary gatherings and readings, and while in the beginning Victoria went with him with a view to lending assistance, it soon became evident that no such help was required. While he was not at home in the public eye, his knowledge of Shakespearean literature was actually superior to hers and his familiarity with a wide range of other topics carried him easily through evenings with learned gentlemen who believed themselves superior in intellect to a mere playwright.r />
  But it was his reluctance to talk about his literary accomplishments that made Laurence the darling of society. He was reserved when people showered praise upon him, and even those who criticised his work were forced to acknowledge a grudging admiration for his unassuming nature. About any future works, he was noticeably reticent, acknowledging only that while there were many ideas swirling around in his head, he had yet to put anything down on paper.

  Watching him, Victoria could only marvel that her bookish and thoroughly unpretentious brother had stepped so successfully into the role of celebrated playwright. Fame, contrary to being anathema to him, was a mantle he wore with grace and humility. And while they all knew that an inadvertent slip could expose them, nothing like that came to pass and eventually, Victoria was able to breathe a sigh of relief that the eye of

  society had finally turned away from her.

  Sadly, it did nothing to heal the rift between Alistair and herself. The memory of his anger stayed with her through the days and weeks that followed, and his bitter disappointment pierced her soul. She wrote to him twice, but both letters were returned unopened. It seemed he really did intend to have nothing more to do with her.

  Strangely enough, however, as the weeks passed, his continued avoidance of her began to have its own unexpected results.

  Victoria got angry. Angry that he wouldn’t listen to what she had to say and that he didn’t believe her when she’d tried to tell him the truth. She hadn’t tried to cover a lie with a lie. She had confessed to being Valentine Lawe that day in the drawing room because she had wanted there to be honesty between them. Even though she had known what the confession would do, how it might affect his opinion of her, she had still done it—and he had thrown it back in her face! He had accused her of lying and had sided with her brother when Laurence had made his outrageous claim.

  What did that say about his feelings for her? How could any man who professed to love her believe what someone else said when it was so radically different from what she did?

  She thought they had established a rapport. That day at the orphanage, when they had stood together over poor little Molly, each had shown the other a side of themselves they had never revealed before—a side that was honest and caring and so very worthy of love. When Alistair had gone on to tell her about Helena, a tragic story no one else knew, Victoria felt sure he had been opening up to her in a manner that signified a deeper level of trust and affection than he had ever shown her before.

  And yet, what he had said to her in the drawing room after Laurence’s confession had totally contradicted that. It had destroyed the fragile trust building between them and had put paid to everything they’d said to one another. And as the days went on, Victoria realised she wasn’t willing to forgive him for it.

  As a result, she began to avoid him. She did not seek him out at events to which they were both invited and she no longer went for early morning rides in the park. When she did go abroad, it was either with her maid or Winifred, who suddenly, like her brother, had become the toast of the town.

  ‘Isn’t it strange,’ Winifred said to Victoria at the coming-out ball for Lord and Lady Brookston’s daughter. ‘Instead of being shunned by society as we feared your being exposed as Valentine Lawe would do, we are now embraced by it. We receive more invitations than ever and I am constantly approached by silly young girls asking for an introduction to our brother. Even when I am in conversation with a gentleman, questions about Laurence inevitably arise. Frankly, I fail to comprehend what all the fuss is about. You would think he had been elevated to the peerage, for goodness’ sake!’

  That was Victoria’s other big concern—that her shy, retiring brother, having been literally thrust on to centre stage, would not be able to deal with the pressure that would inevitably come his way. He said he did not mind and repeated that he had no intention of going back on his word, but Victoria knew he didn’t really enjoy it.

  When Laurence started losing weight and began spending a lot more hours shut up in his room, her concern blossomed into genuine worry and she sought her uncle out to talk about it.

  ‘It’s just that Laurence has never looked for this kind of notoriety in his life,’ Victoria said as they strolled along Oxford Street together. ‘He has always been the quiet one. Happiest when his head is in a book.’

  ‘Yes, and been viewed as a boring intellectual because of it,’ Uncle Theo said in a wry tone. ‘Personally, I don’t think it’s a bad thing. The boy already seems to have acquired a dash more confidence.’

  ‘Only when he steps out in public,’ Victoria said ruefully. ‘It’s as though he puts on a mask the moment he becomes Valentine Lawe.’

  Her uncle shrugged. ‘If wearing a mask allows him to be convincing in the part, I’m all for it. It really is no different than one of my actors stepping into a role.’

  ‘But this is not the stage, Uncle Theo. This is real life. And in real life, bad things happen to good people.’ Victoria bit her lip. ‘Speaking of such things, how do matters stand between you and Signy? I have to admit, I’m relieved you didn’t dismiss her.’

  ‘It would have been folly to do so,’ her uncle agreed. ‘Knowing she was the source of the rumour, but not of the lie, I would have been hard pressed to be convincing in my criticism of her conduct. But I did reprimand her for speaking out against her betters and for attending Lady Drake’s masquerade. I told her it was a foolish thing to do and she accepted the chastisement meekly enough. She even said she would apologise to you, though I wouldn’t hold out any hopes of it being sincere.’

  Victoria wrinkled her nose. ‘I cannot like this, Uncle. Signy has no need to apologise as both you and I know.’

  ‘Yes, but we are well and truly launched on the path now and there is no turning back. Otherwise, we shall all be made to look like a hopelessly ramshackle lot. For my own part, I would hate to give Loftus a reason to verbally assassinate me. Which, I can assure you, he would.’

  Recalled to the comment Laurence had made, Victoria said, ‘Is there really so much animosity between the two of you?’

  ‘I’m afraid there is. Oh, we hide it well enough,’ Uncle Theo said. ‘Professional courtesy and all that. But as a critic I’ve always thought him unnecessarily harsh. I know of actresses who’ve never set foot on the stage again after reading one of his reviews and there have been any number of occasions where he and I have differed on the quality of an actor’s performance.’

  Victoria smiled. ‘Including some of your own?’

  ‘I admit he had the temerity to say that my Hamlet fell far short of expectation,’ Uncle Theo said grudgingly. ‘And that the first play I ever produced suffered for my participation in it. But we’re both older and wiser now and we agree to disagree with civility. But how do you feel about all this, Victoria? It is still your work, after all, but now it has become the source of Laurence’s fame.’

  ‘I have mixed emotions,’ Victoria said, gazing at the road ahead. ‘On the one hand, I am relieved to be able to write my plays and know they will be thought the product of my brother, but on the other, it seems even more dishonest than it did when I was publishing them anonymously. I have involved another person in my deceit, and while I love Laurence with all my heart, I’m afraid he will be caught out and be made to suffer for his participation.’

  Uncle Theo stopped and turned to put his hands on Victoria’s shoulders. ‘My darling girl, I trust you know I would not say this if I didn’t believe it, but I honestly feel that what Laurence did was for the best. He removed any possible stigma that might have attached itself to your name and, in doing so, cleared the way for you and Winifred to make good marriages. Your mother need no longer fear that her family will be ignored by society, and while she will never be happy that one of her children is doing something so closely associated with the stage, at least the idea of her son doing it is more palatable to her than one
of her daughters. All things considered, I think we got off lightly. What would have happened, for example, if Mr Devlin had learned the truth about Valentine Lawe—?’

  ‘He did learn of it, Uncle,’ Victoria said softly. ‘I told him the truth before Laurence made his announcement.’

  ‘Good God, why would you do that?’

  ‘Because I couldn’t live with the fact that I was lying to him,’ she said. ‘He is such an honest man, and I knew he had...that is, that he held me in...some regard.’

  Her uncle regarded her in all seriousness. ‘Did he make you an offer?’

  ‘No, but I think he was about to...and I could not permit it. Not when he believed me to be something I was not. Now there is no question of the disgust in which he holds me.’

  ‘Did he say that?’

  ‘There was no need,’ Victoria said. ‘I heard it in his voice.’

  ‘But you told him the truth because you felt honesty was the best policy.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Did it ever occur to you that loyalty is also a quality much to be admired?’

  Victoria sighed. ‘I see no evidence of loyalty in all this.’

  ‘Do you not? I see loyalty to your mother, to whom you gave a promise of silence, and to your sister, about whose future you were so concerned,’ her uncle said. ‘I see it in your conduct towards your father and myself, who have always been so supportive of your talent, and to Laurence, whom you did not wish to embarrass. Honesty is a valuable commodity, Victoria, but so is loyalty. And sometimes, in being loyal to those we love, we must do things that are not entirely honest. Be truthful with me. How much happiness do you think you would have brought the family had you been honest with Sir Michael that day?’

  ‘Not very much,’ Victoria said truthfully.

  ‘Absolutely none,’ her uncle said. ‘Society has embraced Laurence in this new role because it is acceptable to them, but you would not have been such an easy fit, and your mother would have been very unhappy at seeing you ostracised by those whom she believed mattered. And we both know she would have blamed you had Winifred been unable to make a good marriage.’