Truth and Beauty

by Christina Britton Conroy

  Realizing she had lost Prospero forever, the nymph’s arm reached further. Tears ran down her cheeks. The curtain lowered and a cheer rose from the audience.

  Jeremy strode into the wings and the open arms of Katherine Stewart. Actors raced past them, onto the stage for their curtain calls. Jeremy held Katherine tight. His heart pounded. In a single move, he pleaded, “Don’t leave me, Katie,” turned and walked to the edge of the wing, ready for his bow.

  Elly sped offstage as scene-shifters moved set pieces, allowing enough space for the entire cast to stand on-stage for their curtain call.

  Michael grabbed her arm. “I’d never seen you cry like that. It was fantastic.” They watched the dozen other supernumeraries standing in a single line upstage. Evan was in his cabin-boy costume. He smiled at Elly as the curtain rose. Michael gave Elly a shove and she joined a second row of ten minor players. Rory, Lester, Todd and other actors bowed together. One-by-one, the principal actors, Donald, Michael, Owen, Sandra, and Ross walked to center-stage, took their bows, and stepped back to form a third line. Last was Jeremy O’Connell.

  Katherine watched proudly as the audience rose to their feet. Jeremy accepted their applause, raising his arms and smiling at the top balcony. He bowed alone, then stepped back and joined hands for a company bow. The curtain fell and immediately rose again. After ten curtain calls, Jeremy stepped forward and quieted the crowd.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, your kindness overwhelms. We humble servants of the bard, are eternally grateful for his genius and your generosity.” He took hands with his leading actors for a final bow. After that, the curtain was still. The curtain leg had not broken. All was well. The backstage lights came on, and a jubilant cheer rose from the cast and crew.

  The next Sunday, the matinee curtain fell on THE TEMPEST and everyone hurried away for a well-deserved, two nights off. Jeremy quickly wiped off his makeup, while his dresser pulled the soiled costume off his sweaty body. He dashed to the men’s washroom, and joined other sweaty actors scrubbing themselves with brown soap and tepid water. When he returned, the dresser was ready with a spanking new, very elegant morning suit.

  Actors and crew raced by, wishing each other a good holiday. Jeremy hurried to Katherine’s dressing-room and was greeted by Evan, looking like his exact miniature. From the sheen on their beautiful top hats, elegant cutaway coats, and boldly striped trousers, they could have been an illustration in Gentleman’s Weekly.

  Eager as schoolboys at Christmas, they found Katherine taking special care, pinning up her hair. She looked stunning in an ivory-coloured suit. Jeremy’s heart swelled with pride. In a few hours, they would finally be a real family. After twenty years of playacting, Jeremy felt like he was becoming an adult.

  Evan pouted, “Please, Mummy. Can’t I stay with you?”

  Jeremy pulled him close, whispering, “No. Sorry, old chum. Right after the ceremony, Max is taking you home. I want my bride to myself on my honeymoon.” He was delighted to see Katherine blush. “Look Evan, I’ve kept my part of the bargain and we’re travelling in one of those smelly motorcars you’re so curious about. We’ll only be gone the two nights.”

  Evan dropped his narrow shoulders and shrugged with defeat.

  Jeremy glanced out the door. “I think everyone’s gone, Katie, don’t be long. We’ll wait for you outside.” They hurried out the stage door, past the stage-doorkeeper sitting on the steps eating a sandwich.

  Bright sunshine and puffy clouds dotted the bright blue sky. It was a lovely day for a drive. Evan hurried to the hired motorcar and talked with the uniformed driver. Max, thrilled to be the best man, relaxed in the back seat.

  “Hello Jerry. My, my… Aren’t you looking the real toff. Doing something special are we?” Jeremy’s heart stopped as Simon Camden ambled toward him. His ship was supposed to have sailed for India the day before.

  Jeremy tried to sound civil. “Actually, we’re in a bit of a hurry - off for a weekend in the country.”

  “Ah well, I’m off to India tomorrow. Just thought I’d pop ‘round to say, ‘Goodbye.’”

  “You’d best get along then. We’re off in a minute.”

  “Right-i-o.” He hurried inside.

  Jeremy cursed silently, gestured for Max and Evan to stay put, shrugged an apology to the stage-doorkeeper, and slipped back inside. He listened outside Katherine’s open door.

  She saw Simon and said, “Good God!”

  “My timing’s impeccable.” Simon sounded apologetic.

  “I thought you’d already sailed...”

  “Change of plans. My character man broke a leg, so I can’t leave until the morning. I’ve engaged Tommy Quinn to take his place.”

  Jeremy nearly fell over and it sounded as if Katherine did the same. She gasped, “You’re joking.”

  “Amazingly, I’m not.” There was a creak of wood and Jeremy guessed Simon had helped himself to a chair. “Tommy calls himself Leo Thomas now. My tour manager put out an urgent call for character actors and we were overrun by has-beens and elderly novices. Tommy showed up in an excellent disguise. I knew it was a wig and makeup, but didn’t guess who was underneath until I saw the missing tooth.”

  “But, he’s wanted for murder.” Katherine voice was shrill. “A man was stabbed in his pub.”

  “I know, I know, but he explained that he didn’t even know the blokes involved. I see no reason to disbelieve him. Whatever Tommy is, he’s not violent -- and he’s a good actor -- and I need one.”

  “What about kidnapping Elly?”

  “He says Peg proposed that escapade. He never touched Elly. That Mick person battered her. Elly’s father was arrested before he could pay them off, so Tommy showed up at my casting-call broke and desperate. Tomorrow we sail for India, and he won’t skip out on me this time. I’m withholding sixty percent of his wages until closing night.”

  “Where has Peg gone?”

  “I’ve no idea. Since the lassie sets houses on fire, I have no desire for her company. Oh, I saw Jerry downstairs. Says you’re off for a weekend in the country. Nice suit… I didn’t think you liked white. You always said it soils too easily.”

  Katherine was silent.

  Finally Simon asked, “Do I have any straws left?”

  Jeremy almost laughed out loud.

  Katherine sighed, “Haven’t I given you more than enough?”

  “There’s no such thing as enough, when two people are in love.” Simon’s melodramatic inflection made Jeremy flinch.

  “Are we ‘in love’? I did love you. For years, I loved you -- since I was a child. You were my dancing Prince -- my everything. I left my family for you. I followed you to London and you deserted me after one night. Even then, I waited for your letters as though they were golden.”

  “They weren’t gold?”

  “More like sawdust.”

  “Oooo! That hurt...” There was silence, then, “I’m sorry... am I ever sorry.” Another pause, then, “So, Jerry’s won after all.” There was more silence, but now Jeremy’s heart raced happily.

  When Simon spoke again, he sounded like his old, randy self. “Oh well. In a month’s time, I’ll be on the jewelled continent. Who knows what delights India will bring?” Katherine laughed and Simon asked, “May I still write to you?”

  “Oh yes, please do.”

  There was silence. Jeremy thought he heard a kiss. Simon said, “I love you both. I wish you well. Of course, if you change your mind...” She laughed again, and Jeremy tiptoed back outside to the car.

  Evan and Max were in the back seat playing cards. Jeremy flipped open his pocket watch, then panicked slightly as Katherine, a vision in soft bridal white, arrived outside holding hands with Simon. He kissed her cheek, waved to Jeremy and walked away. Jeremy took a deep breath, and stepped back so the driver could open the car door.

  The stage-doorkeeper looked relieved. He could finally go home. Standing stiffly, he stretched, tossed his sandwich leavings into the top of a nearly full dustbin, and went
to lock the stage-door. Before his key was in the lock, Evan leapt from the car, seized the sandwich scraps, and raced back into the empty theatre.

  “Evan! To hell with the sodding cats,” Jeremy shouted after him, “We don’t have time… Bloody hell!”

  He shrugged another apology and raced inside to see Evan tear up four flights of stairs. Following him was useless, so Jeremy walked onto the stage and watched him scamper across the catwalk, high overhead. The only light filtered in from windows in the stairwells, but the day was bright. Evan balanced himself with the rope handrail and set down the sandwich. He turned to go, but stopped as a dark shadow moved over him.

  A large workman walked onto the middle of the platform. “Scraps for the cats, is it?”

  Jeremy called, “Sorry friend, but the theatre’s closing for two nights. Whatever your business, it will have to wait until Tuesday.”

  Evan started to hop off the catwalk, when the man flung him over one shoulder like a sack of flour. Evan screamed and squirmed to get free. The man clutched the rope handrail, shouting, “Hold still you li’le bugger, or I’ll toss y’ over.”

  Evan stopped struggling, hung limp, and stared down at Jeremy.

  Jeremy stared back, helpless and terrified.

  The man looked pleased with himself. “So, Mr. O’Connell, I said I’d be back in this theatre and ‘ere I am. Just came for some clothes an’ some money, but now I got your li’le prince. ‘e gets everything ‘e wants, does this one. Just like that cow, Elly Fielding.” He bounced Evan on his shoulder, and Evan screamed.

  Jeremy’s heart pounded. Sweat streamed down the back of his neck. He yelled, “Let the boy go. Please, let him go and we’ll pretend this never happened. Just take whatever you want and go.”

  Even at that distance, Jeremy could see the man shake his head and grin. “I was just a lowly actor. Did a damn good job for y’, and y’ tossed me out like a side o’ rotten beef.”

  Jeremy’s heart stopped. It was Mick Tanner, the butcher’s assistant and would-be actor who had nearly murdered Elly. Powerful enough to haul beef carcasses, Mick stood thirty feet in the air, holding Evan like a calf going to slaughter.

  A thin, dark-haired boy appeared at the side of the catwalk. “Come on, Mick. I got what we come fer. Let’s go.”

  Mick stood his ground.

  “Put ‘im down. ‘e ain’t done nothin’. The money were just where ‘e always left it. We go’ plenty, an’ we dan want any more trouble.”

  Jeremy caught his breath. The boy was Peg McCarthy. Mick swung his free arm, effortlessly tossed Peg against the rope handrail, but lost his balance at the same time. Forced to clutch both rope handrails for support, he released his grip on Evan. Jeremy watched helplessly as Evan’s small body slid from the massive shoulders and crashed down onto the narrow walkway. Peg snatched Evan aside, as Mick slipped off the catwalk and fell to the stage, three stories below. Jeremy turned away as Mick’s head split open, like a melon hit with a spade.

  Two hours later, Evan was the happiest boy in London. He did not care that he had been seconds from certain death. He raced between police officers and the press, vividly describing the crime scene over-and-over. He was a sudden celebrity.

  There was no sign of Peg McCarthy and Jeremy secretly hoped she had escaped. Whatever the girl had done in the past, today she saved Evan’s life. He would always be grateful. Eric Bates’s office had been burgled and a substantial amount of money stolen. That seemed like poetic justice. The wages Hilda Bates withheld from starving actors had finally been paid, at least in part.

  After Jeremy told his story to the police and the press, he and Katherine retreated to chairs in the wings. When the draped body of Mick Tanner was carried past, they were still in shock.

  Jeremy clutched her hands begging, “Promise you’ll never leave me.”

  She closed her eyes. “I promise.”

  “And I promise, from this minute, to be a proper husband to you.” She shook her head, but he plowed on. “I've engaged carpenters to take down those doors between the floors, tear out the wall to my guest room, and make a proper bedroom we will share every night.”

  “You can’t...”

  “From now on, if I see a beautiful man, I will look at him, but I will not act on my feelings -- never again. I will never risk losing you.”

  She shook her head and laughed softly.

  He stuttered, “W… Well… I will try...”

  Her laughter grew. Embarrassed, he laughed with her, “...very hard.” They laughed harder and louder, until they had tears in their eyes.

  Their wedding was delayed only a few hours. Evan, the ring bearer, held a velvet cushion with two real gold rings, not the cheap gold-coloured metal Katherine had worn for so long. That evening, Jeremy and Katherine shared their wedding night in a country inn, truly as Mr. and Mrs. Jeremy O’Connell.

  The marriage license was signed by a real vicar and not the Reverend Henry Plantagenet. The real witnesses were Max and the vicar’s wife, not Sir John Falstaff and Robin Hood.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Young actors Elly, Rory, Meg, and Todd stood on the train platform, hugging their dear friend Lester Reid. He was dressed in his one shabby suit, holding a cloth bag with his few belongings.

  Elly wiped tears from her eyes. “I’m so happy for you darling, but I’ll miss you terribly.”

  Rory playfully socked his arm. “Well, I’m jealous. You’ll be seeing the country, playing leading roles, while I’m still here playing servants and solders.”

  Lester chuckled. “I can’t believe they’re trusting me with Falstaff. I’ve got five other roles to learn at the same time. I already know Bottom, but I’ve never heard of these new plays. They run five plays in rep’. We’ve never done more than three, and that was with weeks of rehearsal. I may get no rehearsal at all, just…”

  Sobbing, Todd threw his long wiry arms around Lester. “Don’t go!”

  Lester patted his back. “There, there, Toddy. Buck up old thing. You survived before you met me. You’ll do well again.”

  Elly gently pulled Todd off Lester. Todd fell into her arms and she held him tight.

  Meg sniffed, “You promised to write, but it don’t sound like you’ll ‘ave the time.”

  “I’ll let you know I arrived safely. After that, you’re right. I may not be able to write for a while. I’ll miss you all, so much. We’ve lived through a lot together. I’ll never forget those horrid years at Mrs. Potter’s. No lodgings will ever feel shabby after that.”

  The train whistle blew and Rory opened a door on a third class carriage.

  Lester held his arms wide, and everyone joined in a group hug. He stared at Elly and tears streamed down his face. Without another word, he boarded the carriage, closed the door, opened the window, and leaned out. The train whistle blew. Steam from the engine billowed past, as huge iron wheels groaned slowly, moving the massive locomotive and passenger cars behind it. They all waved and threw kisses. Quickly, the train was out of sight.

  Rory wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand. “Anyone for a pint. I’m buying.”

  Meg sniffed, and blotted her already smeared eyes. Black makeup smudged down her cheeks. “Thanks ever so’, Rory, but I’ve go’ a bloke waitin’.”

  Todd giggled and wiped his teary eyes on his sleeve. “I got a bloke waitin’ too.”

  Everyone laughed as Meg and Todd walked toward the underground.

  Rory looked at Elly, but she shook her head. “I promised Isabelle I’d spend these two days off at Hamilton Place. Why don’t you come, at least for tea?”

  Rory chuckled, “Of course I’ll come.” He took her arm and turned towards the underground.

  She gently pulled him toward a row of hansom cabs. “Isabelle insists I only travel by car or carriage. I don’t know why she frets so.”

  They were quickly at Hamilton Place. They left the carriage and walked towards the front door.

  A tall young man ran out from beside the stoop.
“Miss Roundtree?”

  Elly froze at the sound of her old name. Rory moved protectively in front of her.

  The man wore a cloth cap and wrinkled short coat. He held a small note pad in one hand and a pencil stub in the other. His face was bright with anticipation. “Are you Elisa Roundtree?”

  Rory demanded, “What business is it of yours?”

  “I’m a reporter for the Daily Mail. I was just hoping to get Miss Roundtree’s feelings about the upcoming trial.”

  Elly was ashen. “What trial?”

  “Anthony Roundtree’s going on trial for murder.”

  Rory pulled Elly up the steps.

  “Surely you know he’s being tried for the murder of a priest?”

  Rory rang the bell, whispering, “Come on, someone answer the damn door.”

  “You know, you’ll be called as a witness.”

  Horrified, Elly turned back.

  “Oi, you there!” A policeman ran toward the reporter, waving his nightstick. “I told you lot to vacate…”

  The door opened and Rory pushed Elly inside.

  Smythe slammed the door. “Sorry, Miss, sir. Sir William called the police. This morning the street was swarming with them, newspapermen that is.” He took their coats. “Sir William’s in his study with the solicitor, Mr. Foxhall. He arrived shortly after the story broke.”

  “What story?” Elly’s eyes were like saucers.

  Rory grabbed her hand and they hurried to Sir William’s study.

  Sir William and Mr. Foxhall sprang to their feet. Sir William hurried from behind his large mahogany desk. “Thank God!” He solemnly shook Rory’s hand, hugged Elly, and led her to an upholstered leather sofa. He turned back to Rory. “Was there any trouble at the theatre?”

  “No, sir.” Rory turned to the solicitor. “How do you do, Mr. Foxhall?”

  The solicitor shook Rory’s hand. “Better, now that you’ve delivered the young lady safely home.”