“I’m afraid not.”
“She was upstairs. She is now our dresser,” Jessie reminded him.
“Ah yes, so you said. Poor Lilly seems gone forever. Deserted the regiment.” He pointed toward the men onstage.
Jessie poked him in the ribs. “Those are sailors, not soldiers. You are mixing your metaphors.”
Grossmith disregarded Jessie’s chiding. “It’s too bad you missed Cups and Saucers,” he whispered to Rosalyn. “It’s so good that Pinafore actually pales in comparison.”
Jessie rolled her eyes. “He’s only saying that because he wrote it.”
“Did you?” Rosalyn said. “I must be sure to find a way to see it.”
Grossmith smirked in approval. “Miss Bond, I can see you have brought in a stray who is astute as well as useful. We really must keep her.”
From the orchestra came a very loud rat-a-tat of drums, played several times in succession. Jessie tugged on Mr. Grossmith’s arm. “There’s our cue!”
From the stage, the captain sang, “Now give three cheers; I’ll lead the way!”
“Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!” sang the chorus.
In a moment, Jessie’s and Mr. Grossmith’s entire bearing changed. They had been relaxed and casual as they’d chatted with Rosalyn, but now Mr. Grossmith stood ramrod straight, and Jessie’s chin lifted. She positively radiated self-satisfied pride as she and Mr. Grossmith walked regally out onto the stage. Rosalyn was awestruck at the sudden transformation.
Mr. Grossmith, as Sir Joseph, launched into a wildly improbable song about how he came to be the First Lord of the Admiralty. Jessie and the ladies’ chorus chimed in at various moments. Rosalyn found herself smiling broadly at his comical facial expressions and actions. The reality was even better than she had ever imagined. It was astounding to her that such a pretty and appealing person as Jessie could convincingly play the part of a lovesick cousin whom Sir Joseph wanted nothing to do with. In fact, Jessie became so clingy and overbearing, despite her small stature, that Sir Joseph’s dislike of her was entirely understandable. And the audience was eating it up, roaring with laughter.
This is the theater, Rosalyn thought. People do this for a living, transforming themselves for the delight of others. She had been schooled that the theater was a wicked place, wasteful of precious time and unedifying to the soul. But as she watched, she considered the idea that perhaps there could be a place in life for enriching amusements. She tried to imagine what it would be like to be out there onstage, bathed in bright lights, looking up at the smiling faces of the people in the upper galleries. She felt guilty for even imagining such a thing—until her attention centered once more on Jessie and the laughter she was drawing from the audience. Jessie seemed like a good person; perhaps a life in the theater didn’t have to lead inevitably to ruin.
A few minutes later, Mr. Grossmith and Jessie left the stage. “Are you enjoying it?” Jessie whispered when they reached Rosalyn.
“Yes!” Rosalyn answered without hesitation. “You were wonderful!”
“Ahem,” murmured Mr. Grossmith.
Rosalyn was equally happy to give him the compliment he was fishing for. “You were a delight, as well, Mr. Grossmith! My side hurts from laughing.”
“Yes, we must definitely keep her,” Grossmith said. “Or better yet, get her a job as a reviewer for The Times.”
Mr. Giles motioned to Jessie. “You’re nearly on.”
“Here we are, my last entrance before intermission. There are so many entrances and exits for this act! Wait for me here, and we’ll go up to the dressing rooms together.”
“Of course,” Rosalyn replied. In truth, nothing would tear her away from watching the show. She wanted to savor this new pleasure. She watched, breathless, as Jessie and the entire chorus raced onstage as Ralph Rackstraw stood with that prop gun to his head, threatening to kill himself unless Josephine admitted her love for him. It was a tense and dramatic moment. Soon Josephine gave in and confessed that she did indeed love him. It was a joyous, thrilling ending to the first half, full of the promise of love winning despite all odds—or at least, ready to face the obstacles that were bound to come.
Rosalyn reached out to pet Miss Bella. The buoyant music lifted her spirits. After the harrowing events of the past few days, this amazing reprieve was revitalizing her strength and her senses. As the curtain came down to thunderous applause, Rosalyn’s eyes brimmed with tears of thankfulness for this sudden—if somewhat bizarre—escape from the terrible fate that had threatened to befall her.
Nate leaned against the railing, watching the action below. After five weeks at this, he knew every one of the actors’ lines and gestures by heart. It was always the same; not because the actors lacked imagination, but because Mr. Gilbert allowed no room for improvisation. In fact, he had given instructions to Mr. Barker, his assistant stage director, to fine the actors a half crown if they did not follow their blocking exactly. Mr. Barker seemed only too willing to carry out this directive. Nate had seen him do it a number of times.
About halfway through the first act, his gaze strayed to the wings, and he noticed Rosalyn standing by the props table. She was speaking with Jessie Bond. Grossmith was there, too, doing his usual mugging and playing up to other people. Rosalyn seemed to be enjoying it, however.
Sam joined him at the railing and looked down, following his gaze. “That Grossmith has an eye for the ladies, don’t he? Especially the pretty ones.”
Nate shifted uncomfortably. “Indeed.”
“Of course, he has a wife and four children,” Sam added. “So it’s all just playacting.”
“Does he?” Nate said in surprise. The way Grossmith carried on, Nate had no idea the man was married.
“Not that that ever stops some people,” Sam went on. “Least of all an actor.”
Given what he’d seen over the past few weeks, Nate could readily concur. He felt a twinge of apprehension for Rosalyn. She had shown herself last night to be somewhat gullible. “Would Grossmith really be unfaithful to his wife?”
“Nah, I don’t think so,” Sam answered. “At least, I’ve never heard of any scandal attached to him.”
Nate reminded himself that Rosalyn had shown she could protect herself, or else she wouldn’t even be here.
The drums signaled the cue for Jessie and Grossmith’s entrance. As they walked out onstage, Rosalyn remained where she was, watching everything with rapt attention. Nate wasn’t surprised; who wouldn’t want to see the most popular show in London? By the time Grossmith was halfway through his song, Rosalyn’s face was radiating amusement and joy.
As the show progressed, Nate found his gaze returning to her, intrigued by the play of delight on her features. He could easily guess that she was seeing it for the first time. He’d grown accustomed to this show and all of its spectacle and music; he’d even begun to grow bored with it. But Rosalyn’s enthusiasm caused him to see everything afresh. And he found he was rather enjoying it.
Rosalyn watched, exhilarated, as the company took yet another bow. The audience was exuberant with applause and shouts, and Rosalyn could easily understand why. She had missed some portions of the show due to her other tasks, but what she had seen, including the rousing finale, had produced a joy so intense that it pushed all her other worries into the background.
As the actors continued their bows, a bouquet of roses landed at Jessie Bond’s feet. Jessie smiled, picking up the flowers and waving toward the audience in the general direction the flowers had come from. Then she turned and beckoned toward the wings where Rosalyn was standing.
Rosalyn froze in surprise. Did Jessie expect her to go out on the stage?
Behind her she heard a deep guffaw from Mr. Giles. “Mrs. Hill!” he called into the shadows behind them. “Yer wanted.”
“Coming!”
Mrs. Hill strolled past Rosalyn and out onto the stage, still in her dirty apron and holding a well-worn mop. Friendly catcalls from the audience greeted her. Jessie held the flow
ers out to Mrs. Hill with a gesture that said, I believe these are for you. The cleaning lady accepted them with a broad grin and threw a big kiss toward the audience, provoking a fresh round of laughter and applause. She then ambled off the stage, and the cast continued their bows.
Mrs. Hill handed the flowers to Rosalyn. “There you go, dearie. An extra tip for you tonight. That was a kind thing you did earlier.”
“Thank you. I couldn’t have lived with myself otherwise.”
Mrs. Hill nodded in appreciation and understanding.
Rosalyn brought the bouquet to her nose and inhaled deeply, savoring the unexpected pleasure of holding red roses and white orchids in the winter. “What was your charade all about?”
“It’s something Miss Bond and I cooked up together. It’s her way of being gracious but also letting the would-be suitor know that she ain’t that kind of gal.”
“Oh, I see. She accepts the compliment but doesn’t want to encourage the man.”
“Precisely,” Mrs. Hill replied with a grin. “Works every time.”
“You were charming out there. You should be an actress yourself!”
Mr. Giles gave a snort. “Mrs. Hill on the stage! Fancy that!”
Mrs. Hill swatted at him. “Don’t say you haven’t thought of it yourself, Fred.”
“Why, sure! You and I could sing a duet. Along with Miss Bella here.”
As if on cue, the cat gave a meow.
“Don’t be daft,” Mrs. Hill said. “If Miss Bella sings, too, then it wouldn’t be a duet!”
Rosalyn joined in their laughter. Onstage, the curtain came down once more—for the last time, it seemed.
Earlier, one of the chorus ladies had pointed out Mr. Barker, the assistant stage director, to Rosalyn. He’d come backstage several times but had spent much of the night watching the show from the house. A good way to ensure the actors hit all their marks.
Now that the curtain was down, Mr. Barker came out on the stage and announced, “Very good. No notes tonight. Everyone is dismissed.”
A collective sigh of relief rippled through the whole company. As they began to disperse, Rosalyn heard one of the men say dryly, “I can’t believe Mr. Barker let us go. With only three curtain calls tonight, I was sure he’d give us another lecture about keeping up the energy in our performances.”
“Personally, I think he ought to have called out the ladies,” a second man said. “They were definitely flat tonight.”
This comment came from a chorus member Rosalyn had noticed several times during the show. He was handsome, with sandy brown hair and blue eyes, but what had set him apart for Rosalyn was his expressive acting and his strong tenor voice. She was startled to hear his negative assessment of the ladies’ chorus, especially since she had thought they sounded very fine. To her further surprise, she realized the remark was aimed at Elsie, who was passing by.
Elsie glared at him but said nothing and continued on her way.
“At least we had Mrs. Hill’s antics to liven things up,” another man said. “Her bit with the flowers is always good for a laugh.”
The tenor’s gaze rested on Rosalyn. “Look here—the sweets have landed in sweeter hands than old Mrs. H’s.”
He smiled at her, showing teeth that were straight and white. Rosalyn could barely believe his attitude had been so caustic a moment ago. Now he exuded charm, and she felt it working on her and blushed under his scrutiny.
“Come, come, don’t tell me Miss Bella’s got your tongue. I won’t bite.” His eyes gleamed. “Then again, maybe I will, but I promise you’ll like it, Miss, er—?”
“Bernay. Rosalyn Bernay.”
He gave her a formal bow. “Mr. Anthony Hollingsworth Hayes, at your service. But you can call me Tony. Did you enjoy our little performance?”
“I did—very much,” Rosalyn stammered, still unsure what to make of him.
Jessie came over and said briskly, “Rosalyn, you are needed upstairs.”
“Don’t tell me you are the new dresser!” Tony exclaimed. “And here I thought you were one of our new singers. You certainly are beautiful enough to be onstage.”
“Don’t pay attention to Tony—he’s an inveterate flirt.” Jessie spoke lightly, but she tossed him a cool glance.
Tony held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “You say ‘inveterate’ as though it were a bad thing. I say, if one is going to do something, one ought to give it their all. Isn’t that right, Miss Bernay?”
Before she could answer, Jessie tugged on her arm. “Come on.”
“Until the next time!” Tony’s cheery voice called after them.
Nate and Sam were coiling ropes and resetting the backstage area when Nate happened to overhear a conversation between two of the actors as they made their way toward the dressing rooms.
“That new dresser is a beauty, isn’t she?” said one. “Far prettier than Lilly.”
Nate recognized the voice of Tony Hayes, a man whose crass attitude toward the ladies had frequently galled him.
“But I thought you rather fancied Lilly,” said the other man with a chuckle.
“Seeking new horizons, my friend,” Hayes answered. “It’s what keeps a man going. And in any case, Lilly was a bit of a bore once I got to know her.”
“And you got to know her very well,” the other man rejoined.
Hayes laughed. He lowered his voice and made some comment, but by then they were out of Nate’s hearing.
Nate gripped the rope so tightly that its rough strands bit into his palms. It was not his duty to guard Rosalyn, but he kept picturing her as a lamb among wolves.
Later, when they’d finished their tasks, Sam looked surprised to see Nate lingering at the theater instead of hurrying off. He said, “Joinin’ us at the pub tonight, Nate?”
On Saturday nights, Sam and several of the others went to a little pub across from the stage door to enjoy a round or two before going home. Once or twice they’d invited Nate, although he had yet to accept.
“Thanks, Sam, but I’ll be heading home soon.”
He didn’t bother to explain that he’d decided to wait for Rosalyn to come down from the dressing rooms. The salacious conversation he’d overheard was still worrying him.
Sam looked at him quizzically but merely shrugged and said good-night.
It took nearly an hour to help everyone out of their costumes and to get all the frocks, hats, scarves, and ribbons properly put away. By the end of it, Rosalyn felt like an old hand. Even Sarah, the unofficial leader of the group who had initially doubted her, complimented her on her good work.
Gradually the ladies filtered out, and soon Rosalyn was alone in the big room. She sat down at the long dressing table. With a tired sigh, she leaned an elbow on the table and contemplated what to do next. She had chosen, perhaps foolishly, to stay here when she might have been better off seeking safe shelter before nightfall. She’d kept pushing the worry to the back of her mind, telling herself that somehow things would work out. She’d been embarrassed to admit her true circumstances to anyone. And to be honest, no one had asked. They’d simply accepted her presence as a new member of the theater staff. They wouldn’t think twice about what her living situation might be.
Next to her on the table stood the roses she’d been given by Mrs. Hill. One of the ladies had found a vase to put them in. Rosalyn drew them close, shut her eyes, and inhaled the sweet scent of summer. She sang a comforting little child’s hymn she’d been taught at the orphanage. As always, singing it soothed her. He is my song in the night.
It was so tempting to stay here, to remain in this moment. But slowly, reluctantly, Rosalyn forced herself to stand up. After one last look around, she took a deep breath and went out the door.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw no one, not even Miss Bella the cat. She considered spending the night in the theater. Was it trespassing to remain if she’d had a reason for being here in the first place?
Still contemplating this idea, Rosalyn
inspected the enormous set, designed to look like the deck of a ship. She opened the doors to the “captain’s quarters,” where Jessie and others had made several entrances and exits. The area behind the doors was empty, of course, but it could provide her with a good hiding place to stretch out and rest.
Now that she was on the stage, Rosalyn couldn’t resist taking a moment to walk out to the center. She paused just where Emma Howson had stood when she’d sung her aria. Looking out over the rows of empty seats, Rosalyn saw again the beaming faces of the audience and heard their enthusiastic applause. She peered down into the orchestra pit, imagining what it would be like to follow the conductor’s baton. Surely there could be nothing more wonderful than to sing accompanied by an orchestra. She imagined it would feel like being gently buoyed on a friendly sea. At the orphanage, there had been plenty of singing but no musical instruments—not even a piano.
Opening her arms wide, she breathed deeply, aching to sing at full voice just to see what it would sound like from this spot. She settled for listening to the music in her head, reliving the happiest melodies in her imagination.
O joy, O rapture unforeseen, the clouded sky is now serene . . .
Suddenly, she heard a noise from her left. Turning sharply, she realized it was the sound of boots on metal ladder rungs. Dropping her arms guiltily, she hurried offstage toward the sound. Nate Moran was making his way down the ladder that led to the lighting platforms. He was still here! A surprising rush of relief flooded through her. How amazing that he should now feel to her like a friend. She found herself watching his broad shoulders and solid legs as he moved confidently down the narrow rungs. Was this the ladder his brother had fallen off of? Nate took it with ease and confidence.
She stood, waiting, wondering sheepishly if he’d seen her actions on the stage. Even so, she was heartily glad to see him.
“I thought everyone was gone,” Rosalyn said, looking at Nate with a curious mixture of pleasure and embarrassment.
He imagined her flustered expression was due to what he’d witnessed on the stage just now. He’d decided to wait in an area out of the way—so as to avoid questions about why he was still there—that had a view of the stairs to the ladies’ dressing rooms. He hadn’t counted on seeing Rosalyn’s little display. One night in the theater, and already she was stagestruck. He’d been tempted to wait and see what else she might do but decided he’d do neither of them a favor by spying on her.
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