The Captain's Daughter (London Beginnings Book #1)

by Jennifer Delamere

  After he drew down the bow on the last, sweet note, there was another moment of quiet stillness. Everyone in the room seemed moved. Nate’s eyes met Rosalyn’s, and she saw a tenderness there that touched something deep within her. It occurred to her that through his playing, Nate could express not only joy, but many other emotions, as well.

  CHAPTER

  15

  THE NEXT MORNING, Rosalyn and Julia made their way to 30 Henrietta Street and found themselves standing in front of a large, four-story redbrick building. The sign carved over the doorway clearly proclaimed this was the London School of Medicine for Women.

  Three women, chatting intently among themselves, passed them as they entered the main hall. They gave brief smiles to Julia and Rosalyn before continuing on their way.

  “Isn’t it exciting?” Julia exclaimed. “Soon I will be one of them.”

  An older woman seated behind a large desk inquired what their business was. Upon hearing that Julia had an appointment with Mrs. Thorne, she led the two of them down a short hall and into the antechamber of another office.

  Rosalyn took a chair as Julia was escorted into Mrs. Thorne’s office. To pass the time, Rosalyn picked up a journal she saw lying on the table next to her chair called The Lancet. She quickly replaced it, however, after a brief glance through it revealed it was filled with precisely the sort of detailed medical information she would prefer not knowing. She shuddered at her sister’s choice of occupation.

  After half an hour, Julia emerged from her interview. Mrs. Thorne walked out of the office with her. The director of this school looked younger than Rosalyn had anticipated. She’d expected the overseer of a medical school to be an older, stolid kind of woman. Mrs. Thorne was in her early forties, with a pleasant face and wearing a gown that managed to be both practical and feminine at the same time.

  She was speaking to Julia as they came out. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bernay. I look forward to seeing you again in a few months, and we shall see how you are getting on.”

  Julia thanked her with an expression that, while not exactly ecstatic, was not crestfallen, either. Rosalyn had seen that look before—generally when Julia had a difficult task set before her.

  When they were back out on the street, Rosalyn asked, “How did it go?”

  “She worries that my rudimentary knowledge of Latin will be a hindrance. I shall have to find a way to become conversant in it before I sit the matriculation exam.”

  “Can you find a tutor?”

  “I expect so. It will cost money, of course. But God will provide. He has brought me this far. He won’t let me down now.”

  To get to the railway station, they followed Julia’s map. The area between the medical college and the station was one Rosalyn had not been to before. As they walked, she noticed a pawnshop.

  “Do we have time to go in?” she asked.

  “I believe so. My train doesn’t leave for another two hours.”

  A short, portly man stood behind the counter where the best jewelry and watches were located. “Good afternoon, ladies. Might I help you with something special?”

  “We are looking for a particular watch,” Rosalyn explained. As she began describing it, her eye roved over the items beneath the glass in front of her. She could tell, almost at a glance, that the watch she sought wasn’t there, and the shopkeeper confirmed that he hadn’t seen a watch of that description.

  “Might I interest you in one of these others?” he said. “I’ve an excellent selection—”

  “Oh, my heavens!” Rosalyn blurted as her gaze snagged on a pair of emerald pendant earrings. They were set in fine gold, in a delicate, distinctive pattern. “Those belong to Mrs. Huffman.”

  Julia lowered her face to the glass for a better look. “Are you sure?”

  “I’d know them anywhere.” She lifted her eyes to the shopkeeper. “Can you tell me who pawned these?”

  He shook his head, resting his hands on his wide girth. “Information about my clients is strictly confidential.”

  “Can you at least tell us if it was a man or a woman?” Julia asked.

  But the shopkeeper was adamant about giving out no details. When Rosalyn questioned him about whether he knew of any pawnbroker named Simon, he answered that in the negative, as well. By then, Rosalyn was sure he wouldn’t answer any of their questions, no matter how benign. Realizing that the more they pressed, the more suspicious he got, Julia and Rosalyn finally left.

  Rosalyn threw a last dejected look at the shop before they continued on. “That’s so disappointing. If I could find out who really stole the jewelry I was accused of taking, then I could restore my good name.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Julia agreed.

  “I suppose there was a thief among the servants after all.”

  “Perhaps,” said Julia thoughtfully. “Whoever it was, they seemed content to allow you to take the blame for it.”

  When they reached the railway station, they stood together at the platform, Julia poised to board the train only when it was absolutely necessary.

  “You will be careful, won’t you?” Rosalyn was still worried about having left her sister’s address in the hands of Mollie Hurdle.

  “I’ll be fine,” Julia assured her. “In the meantime, I suggest you take your soldier back to that pawnshop and see if he can, well, persuade the owner to give you more information.”

  “He’s not my soldier,” Rosalyn protested.

  Julia lifted her eyebrows. “No? There’s something between you, I think. Something more than mere friendship, perhaps.”

  Rosalyn couldn’t believe her serious-minded sister would express such a fanciful idea. “He’s going back into the army—and to India.”

  “That may be his plan now,” Julia conceded. “However, life doesn’t always go according to plan. I think you have seen that these past two weeks.”

  “Perhaps you would do well to remember that, too,” Rosalyn pointed out. She had not forgotten—nor accepted—Julia’s determination to leave England.

  The train began to pull away, leaving them no time for anything more except hasty farewells.

  Rosalyn pondered her sister’s words as she hurried toward the theater. Perhaps she would ask for Nate’s help in the matter of those earrings. But she could never think of him as her soldier. He was leaving England and she wasn’t. That was something she was absolutely sure of.

  During their walk home from the theater that night, Nate listened intently as Rosalyn told him about finding Mrs. Huffman’s earrings in the pawnshop.

  When she was finished, he said, “What does Julia want me to do? Go in and strong-arm the man? That doesn’t seem right.”

  “I’m not advocating violence at all,” Rosalyn answered. “But surely there must be some way to discover how the earrings got there.”

  “Do you really need to know?” He stopped, turning to face her. “Perhaps it would be better to stay far away from that place and leave well enough alone. If Huffman should ever decide to come after you, it would look very bad that you know the location of the earrings. It might even be taken as proof that you placed them there.”

  “But—but—” she sputtered. She placed her hands on her hips and looked at him askance. “How do you know about such devious things?”

  “Seven years in the army,” he reminded her. “I’ve seen men do a lot of things to get themselves out of a bad situation—or to get others into it.”

  In the glow of the streetlamps, he watched as she considered his words.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” she conceded. “But do you think I should stay away from all pawnshops?”

  This was a more difficult question. He could see how much her mother’s watch meant to her. “Perhaps I can accompany you?” he suggested.

  He was gratified to see the pleased expression on her face. “I’d like that,” she said.

  Rosalyn's life soon fell into a satisfying routine. Every night the show ran on the same precise plan,
until one evening when Miss Lenoir came into the dressing room and announced, "There's some bad news. Joan and Mariah are out sick tonight."

  “What! Oh no!” several of the ladies cried out.

  “Taken down by influenza. I just received separate notes from each of them. You’re going to have to sing extra loud tonight. Especially the barcarolle in act one.”

  “It’s difficult for the audience to hear us even when we’re at full strength,” Helen pointed out.

  “Can’t we just sing it onstage?” one of the other ladies asked.

  Helen snorted. “And change Mr. Gilbert’s blocking? Only if you promise to pay the half crown fine we’ll each get for doing so.”

  “Just do your best,” Miss Lenoir said. She hurried out of the room, evidently with other emergencies to handle.

  Helen snapped her fingers. “I have an idea! And it’s brilliant.”

  “As usual,” Elsie said wryly.

  “Rosalyn can join us!”

  “What?” The disbelieving murmur of the ladies exactly matched what Rosalyn was feeling.

  “I couldn’t do that,” she protested. Indicating her simple blouse and skirt, she added, “I’m hardly dressed to pass myself off as a relative of ‘our admiralty’s first lord.’”

  “So it’s only your gown you’re concerned about, Cinderella?” Helen teased. “You don’t doubt your singing abilities, do you?”

  To answer that question, it seemed Rosalyn’s only choices were either to sound overly boastful or hypocritically modest. By now, Helen knew of Rosalyn's desire to develop herself as a singer. Rosalyn had already had several more learning sessions with Tony, and she was beginning to feel confident that she could sing as well as any of the chorus ladies.

  “Now who’s trying to change Mr. Gilbert’s blocking?” Elsie said. “If she went out onstage, she’d be bound to trip us all up. I can’t afford a fine—my rent is due this week.”

  Several others began to voice similar sentiments, but Helen waved a hand to quiet them. “I’m only speaking of the barcarolle. She’s watched us do it every night—stood right next to us. I daresay she knows the song by heart.”

  “I don’t know,” Sarah said. “What if she makes a mistake? Mr. Barker will fine the whole lot of us!”

  “Then we’ll stop it out of Joan and Mariah’s wages—they’re the ones who got us into this predicament.”

  “Well, they could hardly avoid coming down with the flu—”

  “Oh yes, they could. Those two never dress properly for the weather. You’ve seen the low-cut gowns they wear. They’re too interested in catching men to worry about catching cold.”

  This brought a round of snickers and a few knowing nods.

  “That’s neither here nor there,” Sarah said primly. “But if you insist on this mad scheme, we’ll have to try it out first to ensure she can sing it.” She eyed Rosalyn. “Do you think you can follow my hand motions as I transmit the direction from Mr. Cellier?”

  “Yes. I know I can,” Rosalyn said.

  “All right, ladies, let’s try it.” Sarah motioned everyone into the formation they used when standing stage left and singing the song.

  Rosalyn chose a spot at the rear of the group, in the corner nearest to where she usually stood and where she’d most likely escape the notice of the stage manager and the prompter.

  Sarah began counting out the beats of the introductory music. “Two, three, and—”

  “Over the bright blue sea comes Sir Joseph Porter, K.C.B. . . .”

  Rosalyn joined in. This was her moment, and if she wanted to give a proper “audition,” she might as well sing with the same strength she’d need to use onstage. She could not see Sarah’s face but saw her head do an approving nod as she continued leading the song. Helen turned around briefly to send Rosalyn an encouraging smile.

  Rosalyn knew exactly how the ladies would move when the song ended and easily stepped out of the way.

  “That was excellent!” Helen said.

  “It did sound fine,” Sarah agreed. “Just remember the dynamic—forte.”

  Rosalyn nodded but could hardly speak. She was going to sing in the show!

  “Don’t get all choked up now,” Elsie joked. “My landlord is counting on you.”

  Millie appeared at the door. “Ten minutes!”

  As they hurried down the stairs, Rosalyn took deep breaths to stay calm. Elsie was right—she couldn’t freeze up now.

  Quietly they took their places in the wings. Helen squeezed her hand and whispered, “I know you can do this.”

  There was their cue. Sarah lifted her hand and struck the downbeat for their first notes.

  Rosalyn’s throat constricted from nervousness, and she missed the first few bars. Closing her eyes, she breathed in. By focusing solely on the music, she was able to ease her voice into the others’. Once she found her place, she opened her eyes again.

  She was happy to see that Mr. Barker was not in evidence. He must be watching from the audience, in which case he wouldn’t know what she was doing. Her heart lurched when she saw Mr. Giles give her a curious glance, but she kept singing. After several more bars, he shrugged. He knew it would be more disruptive to try to stop her. Exuberant, Rosalyn finished exactly on key and on cue.

  And just as she had done upstairs, she gracefully stepped away, back into the deep shadows as the ladies traipsed onto the stage.

  For the briefest moment, her eye caught Tony’s. He’d been watching her! The sailors were supposed to be looking in their direction anyway, but somehow he’d noticed her singing along with the ladies. His face still in profile to the audience, he gave her a secret wink with his upstage eye before returning to his choreographed movements as the sailors greeted the approaching ladies.

  Suddenly drained from the excitement ebbing away, Rosalyn sank down on a stool. Miss Bella immediately jumped up on the table next to her. Rosalyn gave the cat a hug and a scratch behind the ears.

  “Bravo!” whispered Jessie, who had quietly appeared at her elbow.

  “You heard me?” Rosalyn had been so intent on singing that she hadn’t noticed Jessie’s arrival backstage.

  “Indeed I did. I had no idea you could sing like that. Perhaps you should audition for the new show next spring. I bet you could at least get a part in the chorus. Of course, that will leave us in the lurch for a dresser again.” She heaved a dramatic sigh, but Rosalyn knew she was only teasing.

  Jessie hurried off to join George Grossmith, since their cue to go onstage was approaching.

  Rosalyn watched their entrance and the comic actions that followed. She was grinning widely—not from the show, but because a world of possibilities had opened up to her imagination.

  A few nights later, Helen and Tony approached Rosalyn after the curtain calls.

  Helen said, “We wanted to let you know about a little impromptu going-away party we are throwing for Jessie tonight. The entire cast wants to give her a good-luck send-off before she goes to New York. We actually got her to agree to come out to dinner! Will you join us?”

  “I will miss her,” Rosalyn confessed. “It would be nice to go and join in the good wishes for her. I’ll discuss it with Nate.”

  “He is neither your sweetheart, husband, nor keeper, last time I checked,” Tony said. “Isn’t that true?”

  “True, but he is a friend,” she pointed out, finding herself annoyed by his caustic attitude. “And since we walk home together every night, I need to let him know I’ll be doing something else.”

  He looked ready to retort, but Helen said, “We won’t get there at all unless we get out of these costumes.”

  “Right you are,” Tony said, his face brightening once more. “I’ll meet you both here later.”

  As Rosalyn hurried upstairs with Helen, her excitement at attending the party grew. Truly it was an honor just to have been invited. Tony was correct that Rosalyn had the right to do as she wished. It still seemed strange, having this kind of freedom, but she was startin
g to relish it.

  At the stage door after the show, Nate listened with apprehension as Rosalyn told him she’d been invited to a special cast party for Jessie Bond that evening.

  “Are you sure you want to go? It’s bound to be boisterous, and you know there will be plenty of drinking.”

  “Not by me,” Rosalyn said. “I couldn’t afford it.”

  “That’s worse. If someone buys for you, you’ll be beholden to them. And if it’s a man—”

  “No one is going to seduce me with drink,” Rosalyn said firmly. “This is just a chance to have a good time and give Jessie the send-off she deserves.”

  Nate could see it would be futile to try to stop her, and she wouldn’t thank him for the attempt. “Tell me again how you plan to get home.”

  “Helen and I will share a cab.”

  “Is that practical? Where does she live?”

  “I don’t really know,” Rosalyn admitted. “But I have money for my own cab fare if necessary.”

  “That’s good,” he agreed. “It’s best to be prepared for the unexpected.”

  Or the expected, he added to himself as he looked over her shoulder and saw Hayes approaching. At least Hayes had two of the chorus girls with him. She was bound to be safer in a group.

  Nevertheless, a prickly sensation stole close to the edges of his heart that, had he not known better, he might have labeled as jealousy. But no, surely it could only be wariness on her account. Unfortunately, that wasn't any less troubling. It was an indication of just how quickly Rosalyn had become a significant part of his life. But she was also becoming enmeshed in the world of the theater. If all went as she hoped, this would be her life—long after Nate had left for India.

  It was hard to watch her go off with them. Nate might offer warning or advice, but in the end, Rosalyn was free to make her own decisions. He accepted this fact. Told himself it was for the best for her and for him.

  Even so, the walk home felt strangely different.