“I will go!”
“At this time of night?” Nanna asked. “You’ll do nothing of the sort. You’ll find his warm milk ready on the stove. Persuade him to drink it and I’ll get back as quickly as I can.”
“Wait a moment!” Shimona cried. “I will ask the cabman to go for Doctor Lesley.”
She ran down the stairs and managed to stop the Hackney carriage just as it was driving off.
The cabman heard Shimona calling him from the steps and pulled in his horse immediately.
“What is it, missy?”
“Would you be kind enough to ask the doctor to come to my father?” Shimona asked. “You are right. He is very ill. Very ill indeed!”
“I’ll fetch ’im for you. Where’s ’e live, miss?”
“Not far away in Eaton Square,” Shimona answered. “At number 82 and his name is Doctor Lesley.”
“Leave it to me!” the cabman said and, whipping up his horse, set off at a pace that told Shimona that he realised how urgent the matter was.
It was with great difficulty that she and Nanna managed to get her father undressed and into bed by the time Doctor Lesley arrived.
He was a blunt good-natured man who had a great reputation amongst the top professionals of the theatrical world. He had, in fact, met Beau Bardsley through Richard Brinsley Sheridan, whom he had attended for many years.
He was, Shimona knew, not only her father’s doctor but also a friend and an admirer of his talent and her mother had trusted him implicitly.
He had been a tower of strength when Mrs. Bardsley had died and Shimona often thought that, if it had not been for Doctor Lesley, her father would have had a nervous breakdown and made no effort to continue with his acting career.
When Shimona met him in the hall, Doctor Lesley smiled at her, which proclaimed his affection more effectively than any words.
“Oh, Doctor Lesley, I knew you would come when you received my message!” Shimona said breathlessly.
“It was fortunate that I was still at home,” he replied. “I was just about to leave to visit an elderly Countess, but she can wait! How bad is your father?”
“Very bad! He got through the performance tonight, but it was only with the help of brandy, and now he seems to have collapsed. Nanna says that he is coughing – blood.”
The doctor’s lips tightened.
“It is what I expected,” he said. “I told you long ago that he should rest and that you must take him away to a warmer climate. These cold winds are murder to a man in his condition.”
“I know,” Shimona said miserably.
“I suppose there is no money in the kitty as usual?” Doctor Lesley remarked as he started to climb the stairs.
Shimona did not bother to answer.
Doctor Lesley knew as well as she did how every penny her father earned was given away with a generous hand.
The doctor went into the bedroom, telling Shimona to wait.
She went downstairs to the small sitting room at the back of the house that she and her mother had used when they were alone.
It always seemed to her to be redolent with her mother’s presence.
It was here she had done her lessons and it was here they had sat and talked during the long afternoons and evenings when her father was at the theatre.
It was in this room that her mother had imparted to her daughter her own simple philosophy of life, which Shimona had tried to make her own.
And everywhere there were portraits and mementos of her father.
The picture over the mantelpiece had been painted just before he had run away from Bath with the beautiful Annabel Winslow.
There was a miniature of him by Richard Cosway executed at the same time as he had commissioned the miniature of his wife.
There were sketches of him in his greatest roles and caricatures that had been drawn by some of the most famous cartoonists in the land.
There were theatre posters and special tributes, which Beau had received from time to time from the towns where he had played or from the Company he had acted for.
‘Mama loved him so much,’ Shimona thought to herself. ‘Why can she not help him now?’
Then insidiously, almost as if someone was saying it, the thought came to her of the one thousand guineas that could be earned so easily if only her father would allow her to do so.
Then she remembered the anger in his voice when she suggested it and knew that it would be impossible for her to persuade him.
The door opened and Doctor Lesley came in.
Shimona did not speak. She only looked at him and knew what he was going to say before his lips moved.
“Your father is very ill, my dear,” he said after a moment.
“Do you mean – that he is going to – die?” Shimona asked in a voice he could hardly hear.
“Yes, unless we do something positive to prevent it,” Doctor Lesley replied.
“What can we do?”
“First there is no question of his going on stage tomorrow or for a long time ahead,” the doctor said. “Secondly, we have to take him out of London and if possible to a warm climate.”
He put his hand on Shimona’s shoulder as he went on,
“I know the circumstances you are in, my dear, and I think the only thing I can do is to try to raise the money from your father’s friends and admirers.”
He gave a sigh.
“I have a feeling that it is likely to be much easier for your father to give than to receive.”
“That is true,” Shimona answered. “And he would hate feeling that he was asking for charity.”
“There is no alternative,” Doctor Lesley said, “and I promise you, Shimona, I am not speaking lightly when I say that time is important. We have to get him away!”
Shimona clasped her hands together.
Then she said,
“I have a chance, doctor – of – earning one thousand guineas. But could you keep Papa from being – aware of what I am – doing?”
She saw an expression in the Doctor’s face that made her say quickly,
“It is nothing really wrong – but Papa, as you know, does not like me to do anything outside the house.”
“Will you tell me what it is?” Doctor Lesley asked.
Shimona hesitated.
“It is a – secret and it is not – mine. All I can say is that – someone asked Papa tonight to find a – woman who would act a – certain part for two days.”
“And for that they are prepared to pay one thousand guineas?” Doctor Lesley asked and she heard the suspicion in his voice.
“It is a difficult part,” she explained, “and in fact could only be played by someone who is – well born.”
“You are sure it will not involve you in anything – unsavoury?”
The doctor hesitated before the last word.
“I promise you that I will not be involved in anything which you or even Mama would think wrong or damaging to me personally.”
She looked up at the doctor pleadingly.
“It is only Papa who is prejudiced against my meeting anyone outside this house.”
“Your father is almost fanatical on the subject.”
“That is why he must not know what I am doing,” Shimona said. “But I shall be able to earn one thousand guineas with which I can take him abroad and he can rest until he is really well again.”
“It certainly seems a solution to the problem,” Doctor Lesley said slowly. “At the same time I wish you could be a little more explicit.”
Shimona did not answer.
She had the feeling that if she told the doctor that the Duke was involved he would, like her father, refuse to allow her to go to Ravenstone House.
The Duke had promised that he would not interfere himself with anyone who was willing to play the part.
There had been, Shimona thought, an unmistakable note of sincerity in his voice when he had said,
“This is strictly business and, if the girl is pure she
will leave my house as pure as she came – that I promise!”
“It will be all right, I know it will be all right,” she said to Doctor Lesley. “But in no circumstances must you let Papa know about it.”
The doctor stood staring into the fire for a few minutes before he said,
“God knows if I am doing the right thing, but it is actually a case of saving your father’s life.”
“Then why should you – hesitate?”
He turned his head to look at her.
“I am very fond of you, my child. I have known you since you were a little girl and I have watched you grow up into a very beautiful young woman. I would never forgive myself if you were harmed in any way.”
“I am sure I will not be,” Shimona said quickly.
“You know nothing of the world,” Doctor Lesley said, “and to a young woman it can be a very dangerous place.”
“If what I am doing at any time seems – dangerous,” Shimona answered, “then I promise you I will come back straight away.”
“You promise me that?”
“I promise!”
The doctor parted his lips as if to say something else and then he changed his mind.
“Very well!” he said abruptly. “I will trust your judgement and I will keep your father from knowing what is happening.”
“How will you do that?” Shimona enquired.
“He will sleep tonight after what I have given him to prevent him from coughing,” the doctor replied. “I will call early tomorrow morning and see that he sleeps through tomorrow and the following day.”
Shimona put out her hands.
“Thank you, Doctor. I knew that you would not fail us. Mama always said you were the kindest man she had ever met.”
“And because I admired your mother more than any woman I have ever known, I feel responsible for you,” the doctor said, “so for God’s sake, my dear, take care of yourself!”
“I am quite confident I can do so,” Shimona replied.
The doctor turned towards the door.
“I shall be wondering all night whether it would have been better to collect the money from among your father’s friends.”
“I should be surprised if you managed to raise anything like one thousand guineas!”
“And if I am honest, so should I!” the doctor replied.
He picked up his cloak, which he had left in the hall, set his hat on his head and opened the front door.
Outside his smart brougham was waiting and, as soon as he stepped into it, the cabman set off in the direction of the West End.
Slowly Shimona went upstairs.
She went into the bedroom where Nanna had blown out the candles, but by the light of the fire she could see that her father was asleep.
He looked more relaxed and therefore younger than when they had left the theatre.
He was breathing evenly and it was difficult to realise that unless she could do something about it he was under sentence of death.
‘I must save Papa – I must!’ Shimona told herself.
Then she thought that the fact that she could earn one thousand guineas had been a direct answer to a prayer.
Perhaps her mother knew all about it and, through some Divine power they could not understand, had sent them this lifeline.
‘If she can do that,’ Shimona asked, ‘why should there be any reason for me to be afraid?’
Her mother would protect her even in Ravenstone House.
*
The Duke walked into the Library and found his nephew, Alister McCraig, standing in front of the fire reading The Morning Post.
“Good morning, Uncle Yvell,” he said as the Duke entered.
“Good morning, Alister, I hope I have solved your troubles for you.”
Alister McCraig put down the newspaper and looked eagerly at the Duke.
He was a nice-looking man of twenty-five with a pleasant but rather stupid face and fair hair with a touch of red in it.
It would have been difficult to mistake him for anything but a soldier, he had in fact served in a Regiment of the Brigade of Guards until, when he married an actress, he had been forced to resign his Commission.
“You have found someone to act the part?” Alister McCraig asked.
“Not yet, but Bardsley will find someone for me. I made sure of that!”
“How did you make sure of it?”
“I offered him so much money that it would be almost impossible for him to refuse to do as I wish,” the Duke answered.
“That was very kind of you, Uncle Yvell. But you know I could never pay you back unless Great-Uncle Hector coughs up, as we hope he will.”
“I am not asking you to pay me back,” the Duke answered. “I am hoping you will get your fortune and then I need never bother about you again!”
“You have been damned kind over this, Uncle Yvell and I shall never forget it,” Alister McCraig said. “You are the only member of the family who has spoken to me since I married Kitty.”
“You must admit it came as something of a shock to the majority of them,” the Duke said in an amused voice. “It would have done the sanctimonious old hypocrites a lot of good, were it not that it was likely to leave you a pauper the rest of your life!”
“I am well aware of that!” Alister McCraig said.
There was a faint flush on his cheeks and the Duke thought it was understandable how Kitty with her shrewd little brain and an eye for the main chance had thought it worth while to leave the stage for a husband who would be chivalrous and considerate to her for the rest of her life.
There was no doubt that Kitty had caught and enslaved Alister deliberately and, the Duke thought, with the sole object of becoming respectable.
She had enjoyed a long line of distinguished lovers before Alister had become infatuated with her.
Yet no one had suspected for one moment that beneath her exuberant and rather disreputable career she had always longed for the security of a wedding ring.
‘Well, she has achieved her ambition,’ the Duke thought, ‘and there is nothing anyone can do about it.’
At the same time he was determined if possible to save Alister from the worst consequences of his extremely ill advised marriage.
A rich man would always be forgiven an offence for which a poor one would be ostracised indefinitely.
“I suppose your mother has never seen Kitty?” the Duke asked.
“As you know, for some years she has not been well enough to travel South from Northumberland and I have made innumerable excuses not to take Kitty to see her.”
“Quite right!” the Duke approved. “There is no point in upsetting her.”
“None at all,” Alister McCraig agreed, “but I had no idea that she was still trying to get Great-Uncle Hector interested in me.”
“I wonder how she has managed to do it?” the Duke asked reflectively.
He seated himself in a wingback chair by the fireside and was looking at his nephew with critical eyes as he stood in front of him.
“I can tell you exactly,” Alister McCraig said. “Mama is very transparent in all her intrigues.”
He paused and, as the Duke did not speak, went on,
“She has told Great-Uncle Hector that I shall doubtless produce a long line of McCraigs and they must be educated and brought up in the right way, so that they can be a credit to the Clan McCraig.”
“Good Lord! So that is her angle!” the Duke laughed. “If nothing else, my sister is undoubtedly a clever diplomat.”
“She sent me a copy of the last letter she wrote to Great-Uncle Hector,” Alister McCraig said, “and it is that which is bringing him hot-foot to London.”
“I see – ” the Duke remarked reflectively. “There are going to be difficulties if The McCraig wishes to take his place at the first Christening!”
“He cannot live for ever!” Alister McCraig said peevishly. “And, as far as I am concerned, once he has settled some money on me, he can die as quickly as possi
ble!”
“Which is, of course, a most admirable sentiment!” the Duke said ironically.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Uncle Yvell,” Alister McCraig said in a tone that betrayed his nervousness, “I hope you are not going to start reproaching me.”
The Duke did not speak and he went on,
“It has been drummed into me by my father, my mother and all my other relations, except you, ever since I was a child that I had to marry someone befitting my station in life – someone who was the right sort of wife for a Chieftain. The idea of it has always made me sick!”
The Duke thought that perhaps here was the answer to why Alister had given Kitty Varden, a Music Hall comedienne with a reputation for singing lewder songs than had ever before been heard on a stage, a wedding ring.
It was, however, obvious that his nephew was on edge and, if he was to have a nervous actress to cope with too, the Duke decided to pour oil on waters that looked like being somewhat tempestuous.
“I am sure everything is going to be all right,” he said soothingly. “Bardsley is a gentleman, the son of a Clergyman as it happens and he will find us exactly the right sort of wife that you should have had.”
“I must say he looks as if he has good blood in him,” Alister McCraig remarked. “He does not seem like the usual run of actors.”
“He is not!” the Duke said briefly.
There was silence for a moment and then he said,
“I think it is absolutely essential that not a word of this arrangement should be spoken of outside this house. You are well aware, Alister, how a titbit of this sort could go round the Clubs like wildfire and it would only be a question of time before The McCraig learnt of it.”
“That is true,” his nephew answered. “As a matter of fact I have not even told Kitty of your idea.”
“You have not?” the Duke asked in surprise.
Alister McCraig looked uncomfortable.
“I had a feeling that if I did,” he said, “she might insist on meeting Great-Uncle Hector herself. Now she is settled down she has almost forgotten her past and thinks that everyone else has too.”
The Duke threw back his head and laughed.
“My dear Alister, if you had not told me that I would not have believed it! If Kitty thinks anyone will ever forget those songs she used to sing, she must have lost what brains she had!”
The Disgraceful Duke Page 4