No Occupation for a Lady

by Gail Whitiker

  ‘On the contrary, I am meddling in something that concerns me deeply and, contrary to what you might like to believe, it has everything to do with me. You see, Mr Devlin, my sister was telling you the truth when she told you she was Valentine Lawe a few weeks ago,’ Laurence said. ‘She did write those four plays. Every last word of them. Without any assistance or input from me.’

  ‘Then why did you claim the role when Sir Michael asked Miss Bretton the question?’ Alistair shot back.

  ‘Because at that point, she had too much to lose by telling the truth. We all did,’ Laurence admitted. ‘My father and uncle had both been heard to deny the rumour in public—’

  ‘As had you.’

  ‘Yes,’ Laurence said, not attempting to deny it. ‘And because I was afraid of what would happen to our family’s reputation if Victoria told Sir Michael the truth, I decided to do something about it. That’s why I said I was Valentine Lawe when Sir Michael asked the question. And why I didn’t allow Victoria an opportunity to contradict me. I was determined there wouldn’t be a shadow of doubt in Sir Michael’s mind when he left the house that day.’

  ‘I see.’ Alistair let the silence stretch long before saying, ‘Am I to assume that, with the exception of your sister, you had your family’s approval to this bizarre plan?’

  Victoria winced at the harshness of his tone, but Laurence merely shook his head. ‘I didn’t have a plan, Mr Devlin. How could I when none of us knew Sir Michael Loftus was going to turn up on our doorstep asking questions? You saw what happened when Victoria walked in. Did her reaction of shock look planned to you?’

  Victoria held her breath as Alistair’s dark gaze found hers. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. She knew he was angry and he had every right to be. Her brother, whatever good intentions he might have had, had brought both of them to this meeting under false pretences. Clearly, Alistair believed she had written him a letter, just as she believed he had written one to her. And if she had harboured the hope, even for a moment, that his reasons for wishing to see her had anything to do with putting matters right between them, wasn’t it possible that he had come with exactly the same thought in mind?

  ‘Mr Devlin, you have been told...a number of different stories by various members of my family,’ Victoria said, knowing it was time for her to take charge. ‘And I’m sure that at times it has been difficult to know who really is telling the truth. But because you are a man to whom the truth matters, I want there to be honesty between us. I told you I was Valentine Lawe because it was the truth. And I had planned on telling you much earlier than I did. The day after the masquerade, in fact. But then I came down with that dreadful cold and was scarcely able to get out of bed, and before I had recovered enough to venture out, the news broke and we were all thrown into a state of confusion and panic.’

  ‘Miss Bretton—’

  ‘No, let me finish,’ Victoria said, aware she had to get it all out before he offered a reply. ‘As soon as the news became public, I wanted to tell you the truth, but my uncle felt the best way to handle it was by denying it. He knew what validating the rumour would do to my reputation in society...to my family’s standing in

  society...and he didn’t want that to happen.’

  ‘So you went along with it,’ Alistair said.

  ‘Yes. At the time, I thought it was the path of least resistance,’ Victoria admitted. ‘Especially when my father added his agreement—’

  ‘As I did mine,’ Laurence said.

  ‘Indeed, everyone seemed to feel it was the right thing to do. And for a while I thought they must be right,’ Victoria said. ‘But as time passed and I came to feel worse and worse about the lie I was perpetuating, I knew it wasn’t the right thing. Neither was deceiving you. I hated that most of all. You defended me to your family and friends. You believed something of me that wasn’t true, and for that reason, I knew I had to be the one who told you the truth. So I did,’ Victoria said quietly. ‘And I know you believed me because I saw how angry you were.’

  ‘And yet, nothing changed,’ Alistair reminded her. ‘Your family didn’t correct the falsehood.’

  ‘No, because the longer we perpetuated the lie, the harder it became to deny. All of our reputations were on the line. My mother and father’s, my sister’s, my aunt’s and uncle’s. Even Laurence’s. We all stood to lose a great deal and so we kept silent.’

  ‘But you were going to tell Sir Michael the truth that afternoon in the drawing room,’ Alistair said. ‘I know you were. I saw it on your face.’

  ‘Yes, because even though it would have damaged our family’s name, I truly wanted the pretence to be over,’ Victoria said. ‘I wanted to stop lying to everyone. I knew it would be difficult, but I thought it was the right thing to do.’

  ‘Obviously, your brother did not,’ Alistair said narrowly.

  ‘No. Like my uncle, he believed it best to perpetuate the myth,’ Victoria said. ‘So he concocted, in that moment, the perfect solution to the problem. He became Valentine Lawe. He knew there would be no shame in his claiming to be a playwright and, by doing so, he would clear all of our names. But he did so without our knowledge or agreement. You must have seen how shocked my father and I were. We never expected Laurence to step forwards and make such an outlandish claim.’

  ‘Because your brother is not the actor,’ Alistair said.

  ‘No. At least, we never thought he was. I admit we’ve all been caught a bit off guard by how well he’s taken to the role,’ Victoria said. ‘But he did what he did out of love, Mr Devlin. Not for his own benefit.’

  ‘Yet you cannot deny that his life has changed drastically as a result of what he said,’ Alistair pointed out. ‘He is now the famous playwright. I doubt he can walk down the street without people coming up to him and telling him how much they enjoy his plays. Lovely young ladies vie for his favours and literary pundits hang on his every word.’

  ‘I do not look for anyone’s praise, Mr Devlin,’ Laurence said. His voice was quiet, but Victoria heard an undertone of anger creeping in. ‘It is Victoria to whom the accolades should be going and she is denied that by virtue of her silence. That is why I pass along every comment I receive. I want her to know what people are saying about her work and how much they enjoy her plays. I don’t flatter myself that I possess even a fraction of her talent. And I regret that all this has led to there likely being no more Valentine Lawe plays in the future.’

  ‘No more plays?’ The remark clearly took Alistair by surprise. ‘Why should there not be any more?’

  ‘I leave that for her to explain,’ Laurence said, heading for the door. ‘I think I’ve said enough for one evening.’

  ‘Yes, I rather think you have,’ Alistair said without smiling.

  The remark was made with such condescension that Victoria actually cringed. Dear Lord, if she’d ever needed proof that his opinion of her was no better, she had just been given it. Even Laurence looked a little crestfallen as he went out and closed the door behind him.

  Victoria kept her gaze fixed on the fireplace. Better that than be forced to look at Alistair and see again the disillusionment in his eyes. ‘Please say what you must and then leave, Mr Devlin,’ she said in a voice so low the words were almost inaudible. ‘I regret that you were brought here under false pretences, but if nothing else, at least now you know the truth about Valentine Lawe.’

  ‘Are you so sure there is nothing else, Miss Bretton?’

  ‘Your tone makes it abundantly clear there is not.’ Victoria felt tears burn in her eyes. ‘I can see how angry you are. I cannot imagine what you think of me.’

  ‘What I think...’ he said, walking towards her, ‘is that you are impulsive, outspoken, rash and guilty of flouting convention at every turn. It is your passion for writing that has brought you to this point and no doubt your passion for writing that will continue to plag
ue you. However...’

  Victoria slowly looked up. ‘However?’

  ‘I also find you generous, intelligent, loyal and

  courageous...to say nothing of talented in the extreme and beautiful beyond all. And I know,’ he added gently, ‘that for someone as honest as you to go through what you have would be enough to give anyone nightmares. It certainly would me.’

  ‘Then...you understand what I have been trying

  to say?’

  ‘I do more than understand it. I have lived it. Why do you think I’ve been so secretive about my involvement with the orphanage?’

  Victoria frowned. ‘Because you did not wish to be praised for your work?’

  ‘I would not have been praised,’ Alistair said. ‘Apart from Isabelle, very few others would have approved of what I was doing. My parents certainly would not.’

  ‘But you told me they supported your charitable efforts.’

  ‘They support the idea of my providing for those less fortunate, but strictly from a distance. They would never have approved of my being so closely involved with the people I wish to help,’ Alistair said. ‘They would be horrified to know that I spent time with street urchins and those whom society would just as soon turn their backs on as lift a finger to help. Especially if they knew it was inspired by what happened to Helena.’

  ‘But surely that makes the cause even more noble,’ Victoria whispered. ‘You are so very worthy of admiration.’

  ‘As are you. You have a gift, Miss Bretton. A gift for writing plays that entertain thousands of people. If you were a man, you would be celebrated for your talent, as your brother is being celebrated now. You must not think any the less of yourself for having done what you did.’

  ‘But you were angry with me when I told you the truth.’

  ‘Yes, because in my arrogance I saw only that you had not been completely honest with me,’ Alistair admitted. ‘And having believed you to be everything I admired in a woman, it shook me. But one of the other things I’ve come to admire about you is your passion for something beyond fashion and society. You have an imagination—something very few women possess. And you were going along very nicely, writing your plays and seeing them performed, until I came on the scene and inadvertently forced things out into the open. You didn’t have to tell anyone the truth because no one

  really needed to know. And you had made your mother a promise that you would not.’

  ‘That doesn’t take away from the fact that she would have preferred I not do it,’ Victoria acknowledged ruefully.

  ‘No, but an inclination like that cannot be denied. What was it your brother said? That the ideas spring like water from a well and cannot be stopped by wish or inclination? I’m sure he must have heard that from you. And believe it or not, I do understand impulses like that,’ Alistair said. ‘A doctor can no more turn away from his desire to heal the sick than an explorer can resist going off to discover new worlds. God knows, there are few of us talented enough to follow our dreams, let alone who have the drive and dedication necessary to see it through. You have that talent and the courage to make it happen. Your success as Valentine Lawe is more than adequate proof of that.’

  ‘But it has cost me...so much,’ Victoria said, for while she heard his words of praise, she heard nothing of affection. ‘I saw how angry you were when you found out my brother had tricked you into coming here. And though it is pointless to wish things different, I would if it meant I could change your opinion of me.’

  ‘My darling girl, my opinion of you doesn’t need to change. I love you!’

  Victoria gasped. ‘You do?’

  ‘Of course. That’s what I wanted to tell you the night of Lady Morgan’s soirée. It’s the reason I came here tonight.’

  ‘But...I thought you came because of Laurence’s letter.’

  ‘I let you think that’s why I came, but I had planned on coming here before the letter arrived. I had no intention of letting you leave London without telling you how much I loved you. That’s why I was so angry when I found out your brother had sent the letter. I thought you had sent it,’ he told her. ‘I thought it meant you were as anxious to clear up this misunderstanding as I was. So when I learned you hadn’t written the letter, I realised nothing had changed, that your feelings for me were no different. And I saw all my hopes for the future turn into dust. That’s why I was so disappointed. I thought I’d lost you for ever.’ He took a step closer and reached for her hands. ‘Surely you must have suspected how I felt about you?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ Victoria whispered. ‘I’d hoped...desperately hoped that you cared for me, but everything was so twisted up in lies—’

  ‘I know, and that’s why I came,’ he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. ‘And it’s why I’m not leaving here until you tell me you love me and say that you will be my wife.’

  Victoria closed her eyes as his arms slipped around her and drew her close. ‘I love you, Alistair. And there is nothing I want more than to be your wife. But...what are we going to do about Valentine Lawe?’

  ‘Must we do something about him?’

  ‘We cannot allow Laurence to continue in this charade.’

  ‘Why not?’ Alistair nuzzled the unexpectedly sensitive area just beneath her left earlobe. ‘He seems to be enjoying it.’

  ‘But he has never even written a play,’ Victoria murmured, determined to settle the issue before his kisses rendered her totally insensible. ‘What will people say when he doesn’t produce any more?’

  ‘And I ask again, why should there not be any more plays?’ Alistair reluctantly raised his head. ‘You’re not really going to stop writing, are you?’

  ‘Well, yes, I thought that’s what you would want. Especially if I am to be your wife.’

  ‘Do you expect me to give up my involvement with the orphanage?’

  ‘Of course not, but it is hardly the same thing.’

  ‘It is to me. I don’t want you to give up any part of yourself, darling,’ Alistair whispered, pressing his lips against the softness of her hair. ‘Unless you wish to stop writing. But you said yourself, you have been writing for a long time and you love what you do.’

  ‘Yes, and at one time I thought it was all that mattered. But then I fell in love and realised I had to make a choice, so I chose to be with you.’

  ‘And your brother chose to be Valentine Lawe, so why should we change anything else?’ Alistair said. ‘Laurence’s stepping into the role is the perfect solution for all of us. It allows him to enjoy a standing in society he never had before and allows you to write your plays and have someone else act as your public face.’

  ‘Then...you would be willing to see this continue?’ Victoria asked. ‘Even though by letting society believe Laurence is Valentine Lawe, we are perpetuating the deceit.’

  ‘My darling girl, anything that allows us to be together is acceptable as far as I’m concerned,’ he said. ‘I want you to be happy as my wife.’

  ‘I will be, as long as you love me.’

  ‘You need have no fear on that account. But perhaps one day when you are old and grey and in need of a diversion you will publish your memoirs and tell everyone that you were, indeed, the famous playwright Valentine Lawe and that I was a party to the fraud.’

  ‘I couldn’t!’

  ‘Of course you could. It does an old lady good to have a hint of scandal in her life. Just think how they will seek you out for all the wicked details.’

  She started to laugh and, resting her forehead against his, said, ‘Oh, Alistair. You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.’

  ‘On the contrary, I’m the one who’s been made happy and you’re the one who’s done it. You risked a great deal by telling me the truth, love. You put me in a position of being able to expose you and your family for everything you’ve done. If that’s no
t proof of your love and integrity, I don’t know what is.’

  Victoria’s mouth twisted. ‘I’d like to say my confession was motivated by the most noble of motives, but the truth is, I wasn’t able to sleep for worrying about this.’

  ‘And that, dear girl, is all I need to hear. If you hadn’t suffered a moment’s guilt, it would have meant your conscience was clear and that you could live with the lie.’

  ‘I’m not sure I know what to say,’ she said.

  Alistair smiled and, trailing a finger down her throat in a manner that made her shiver, said, ‘How do you think Valentine Lawe would bring this scene to a close?’

  ‘I know how he would like to bring it to a close,’ Victoria said with a low, throaty laugh. ‘But I doubt it would survive the censor’s pen.’

  ‘Then I suggest we act it out. And I expect you to be very convincing in your part.’

  ‘Darling man, when it comes to loving you,’ Victoria said, drawing his head down to hers, ‘I find there is absolutely no need for me to act at all!’

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Whirlwind Cowboy by Debra Cowan!

  Author’s Note

  The Licensing Act of 1737 introduced the heavy hand of censorship to the British theatre. It was initiated by Robert Walpole, one of the period’s most influential and powerful men, and its main purpose was to prevent satirists of the day from lampooning politicians—Walpole in particular—and from presenting anything felt to be subversive or distasteful to the British public. As such, it required that a Lord Chamberlain and his ‘Examiners of Plays’ approve every play prior to its first public performance. Any content deemed to be insulting, derogatory, inflammatory or controversial was removed.

  The Act also restricted the production of serious dramatic works to Drury Lane and Covent Garden, two theatres already in possession of royal sanctions.

  Theatres that did not hold this distinction—like the fictitious Gryphon—resorted to producing melodramas, ballad operas and burlesques, which relied heavily on musical interludes, facial gestures and body movements, and either eliminated or restricted the use of spoken dialogue altogether.