Their Exits and their Entrances: The New Chronicles of Barset: Book Two

by ILIL ARBEL

  Denis drove silently on. “Do you love him?” he suddenly said.

  “That depends on what you mean by love. I am fond of George; he is a nice, kind man. We don’t have much in common, though.”

  “I am very happy to hear that,” said Denis.

  “Happy that my husband and I have little in common? Why?” said Mrs. Rivers.

  “Never mind right now. I’ll explain some other time,” said Denis. “I have two tickets to a concert. A most fantastic performance of Mendelssohn’s Fourth Symphony, The Italian, as the second part of the program. I am not sure what is in the first, but it will be a concert to remember even if we don’t love the all the pieces. The New York Philharmonic, with a marvellous conductor… who happens to be a personal friend of mine. It starts in an hour.”

  “But you would have missed it if you stayed in the exhibition, Denis. Why did you come? You could have seen it on a later day!”

  “Because I thought you might need me, Hermione. I am very glad I came. Yes, I know Mr. Goldwasser would have eventually taken care of the issues with Julian, but I thought he might be engaged by the hordes of visitors, while I would be left alone and available to take care of you.”

  Mrs. Rivers sat quietly. She was still rather shaken by the incident, and besides, hearing the words “take care of you” was a new and thrilling experience. She had not heard such words for many years. To avoid the emotional subject, she said, “Who is the conductor?”

  “He is a relatively young man, a protégé of Dimitri Mitropoulos, you know, the Philharmonic’s principal conductor. Mitropoulos could not come on this tour, so he sent my friend instead. His name is Leonard Bernstein. Only thirty-six years old, and a genius. A real genius. Also a very nice person, everyone likes him.”

  “I would love to hear it,” said Mrs. Rivers.

  The concert was magnificent. Two pieces by Schubert, soft and romantic, followed by the majestic Italian, were played to perfection by the New York Philharmonic, one of the best symphony orchestras in the world despite Julian’s view on art in America, and the conductor was superb. His tall, slim figure, moving energetically with the music, seemed to guide the orchestra into unexpected heights of beauty. Mrs. Rivers, who loved music very much, forgot herself in the delight of the performance.

  After a short visit with Mr. Bernstein, who greatly impressed Mrs. Rivers by his charm and friendliness, they decided to stop somewhere for a light dinner, since the hour was awkward and they would have missed dinner at home. They entered a small, half-empty restaurant, and Mrs. Rivers, enjoying the peace and quiet as well as the excellent omelette, almost forgot the unpleasant interaction with Julian. But Denis, to her surprise, brought the subject up.

  “When is your son going back to England?” he asked, sipping a cup of coffee.

  “In a couple of weeks, I think he said. And soon it will be our time to go back, to film the sequel. By the way, I suggested your name to Maisie. She seemed intrigued by it.”

  “And after the sequel? What are your plans?” asked Denis.

  “I don’t know, the usual, I suppose. What exactly do you mean?”

  “I mean, have you given some thought to my idea of remaining in America?”

  “Well…” said Mrs. Rivers. “I did think about it, but it depends on so many things. Why would you even want me to do so? It is such a complicated and unexpected move…”

  Denis put his cup down and said, “It is simple. I want you to stay here because I love you, Hermione. I want you to leave George Rivers, settle in America, and marry me.”

  “Love me? Marry you? Denis, are you mad?” said Mrs. Rivers, fully believing that she was shocked by his statement.

  “Stop pretending, Hermione. You know I love you.”

  Yes, Mrs. Rivers knew. She had known all along. But she had done her very best not to see it, and succeeded in deluding herself that the feelings between them were just friendship.

  “What is more, I think you could learn to love me, too,” said Denis. Yes, Mrs. Rivers knew that this, too, was true. Her feelings toward him were so strange, so unexpected, so inexplicable, and she put them at the back of her mind and ignored them so as not to be made unhappy by her own folly.

  “Denis, I am sixty-four years old. I am old enough to be your mother.”

  “So what? I have told you my story. You know that as far as I am concerned, the years between us represent an advantage, not a detriment. You know I am incapable of loving a younger woman, or even a woman of my own age. This is who I am. But Hermione, I am no longer the shy child that was in love with Mrs. Middleton and suffered so deeply. I am an adult, I know what I want, and I intend to persuade you to marry me and stay right here in America, where you belong. We both deserve some happiness in our lives, happiness that had eluded us, so far.”

  “But still, why me? I am not a very nice person. I am certainly not the mild mannered, sweet Mrs. Middleton you loved so long ago. Many people hate me.”

  “They don’t understand you. I do.”

  “But…”

  “There are no buts or ifs or maybes. Can’t you see that you are everything I had ever wanted? Your beauty, your intellect, your strength of character, they are all ageless. So what if I am forty? At heart, I am much older than you will ever be. I can be sad, and tired, and resentful. You are always alive, sparkling, new. And can’t you see that I loved you even before I met you, Hermione? I loved you through your books. I felt you were the only human being on the face of the earth who would understand how I feel, who I really am. Surely you can see that, after all the books you have written about men who are so much like me?”

  “But I have never met anyone in real life who acted this way. Well, come to think of it, this is not entirely true. I did see a few young men in the County fall in love with Agnes Graham… and Mrs. Brandon… and the beautiful Mrs. Dean, Jessica’s mother, before she became so ill with this strange sleeping disorder… yes, you are right, I did know some people who felt like you. But still, it is strange to be in this situation. I feel as if I had stepped into one of my books, Denis. A middle-aged woman loved by an adventurous young man… ”

  “There is a difference, though, between books and real life. In this romance, there will be no renunciation scene and no return to the middle-aged husband who had been waiting in the wings. No, in this romance, the heroine will do what no lady in your books has ever done. She will remain with the adventurous young man, living happily ever after. And that, my dear Hermione, is a huge difference.”

  Mrs. Rivers could not answer. Strongly doubting her own sanity, she suddenly felt very happy. The flash of happiness lasted only a moment, and then her usual mild melancholy returned, but it did happen, and she could not deny it or ignore it. Yes, for the first time in decades, Mrs. Rivers was ecstatically happy, if only for a moment, and we cannot attempt to explain it since the human heart will always be a mystery us, as we are always ready to admit.

  Chapter Ten

  Mr. Alcott sat at the table with his head buried in his hands. He wore one of his at-home, well-fitted velvet jackets, the colour of eggplant, or, as Shymmering referred to it, aubergine, and a white silk scarf around his neck. His hair, though somewhat ruffled by the way he stuck his fingers in it, was carefully oiled and slicked back. Shymmering, who came in carrying a tray with glasses, disapproved of Mr. Alcott’s stance, which did not show the elegance and pleasant superiority a gentleman’s gentleman expects from his employer, though of course no observer would have noticed his displeasure, which was expressed by a lightly raised eyebrow.

  “Is there anything I can do, sir?” he asked. “You seem to be disturbed.”

  “I can’t take much more of this, Shymmering,” said Mr. Alcott, raising a tormented face and looking sadly at his valet.

  Shymmering looked around him at the exotically decorated room, the two large porcelain felines by the fireplace, the extensive sideboard he himself had prepared for the dinner guests who were about to arrive any minute, the elegant
attire Mr. Alcott wore, and said, “Take what, exactly, sir? Kindly illuminate me, and perhaps I will be able to resolve the problem. It seems to me, at the moment, that all is well, but of course I may be ignorant of some important facts.”

  “Well, I am not sure how to explain,” said Mr. Alcott. “As you know, Dance We Shall is completed, and this is why I invited these people over, to celebrate. All we have to do now is deal with the promotions, before going back to England to film the sequel to Send Me No Lilies.”

  “Indeed, sir, I am fully aware of this. I have already started packing your wardrobe. However, this is good news, is it not?”

  “But Shymmering, I will be away, and you know what? Mr. Goldwasser now wants Miss Moonshadow to be the fake fiancée of Rush Yukon!”

  “A very good scheme, I believe. Do you disapprove of it, sir? May I ask why?”

  “Because I worship her. Estella Moonshadow is a goddess. She might fall in love with Rush, and where will I be, then?”

  Shymmering cleared his throat. This, as was already well known to Mr. Alcott, was a sign of discretion, of words that had to be surmised but not said. But Mr. Alcott did not know what his valet wanted to express, and he was too upset to think about it with the required mental effort. “Out with it, Shymmering,” he said in desperation.

  “Well, sir, I would not concern myself about that. Mr. Yukon will not encourage Miss Moonshadow to fall in love with him. He has his own plans.”

  “What plans?” asked Mr. Alcott suspiciously.

  “You may have not heard about it, but Mr. Yukon will soon be marrying his confidential secretary, sir, a Miss Lancing, Miss Rosemary Lancing.”

  “So he will be deceiving poor Miss Moonshadow? Stringing her along, toying with her emotions, while all the while he is about to be married? That is not to be tolerated!” said Mr. Alcott, scandalized with the villainy of men in general, and Rush Yukon in particular.

  “Oh, no sir,” said Shymmering pityingly. “This marriage is not an affair of the heart. Mr. Yukon is strongly advised by the studios to marry, once his so-called romance with Miss Moonshadow is over.”

  “Why?” asked Mr. Alcott.

  “I have not been informed, sir,” said Shymmering, his face entirely expressionless.

  Mr. Alcott looked at him with suspicion. Shymmering always knew everything, so he had to be hiding something. But Mr. Alcott could not imagine what it could be. “I still don’t understand why Miss Moonshadow cannot become my fake fiancée right away,” he said petulantly.

  “It’s a ruse, sir. Since you are going to be away, a romance between you and Miss Moonshadow cannot blossom with the necessary allure for the public. A long-distance relationship and letters from England are not exciting to the average movie goer. So for a short while, Miss Moonshadow will appear to be dazzled by Mr. Yukon, but when you come back, she will realize where her heart really belongs, and will leave him for you.”

  “This sounds like a script by Maisie,” said Mr. Alcott with professional appreciation. “Did she create it?”

  “No, sir. It was conceived by Mrs. Lewis and approved by Mr. Goldwasser.”

  “And this is what the public wants?”

  “Yes, sir. The public will adore it, and during your absence, Miss Moonshadow will be given enough exposure as to make her worthy of your attention. If I understand correctly, she will also embark on her first acting part in a film Mr. Yukon will be starring in. She is to be the evil Oriental seductress who tries to lure Mr. Yukon’s character away from his true love.”

  “That sounds really good. What is the name of the film? And who is Rush Yukon’s character?” asked Mr. Alcott with interest.

  “The name of the film is Golden Sails of Love. Mr. Yukon is a pirate, an outlaw, who has become a converted character through his love for a pure and beautiful young woman. He risks his life for Queen Elizabeth as he sails the seven seas in search of gold and spices for his queen and her Empire.”

  “I had no idea Queen Elizabeth is particularly interested in spices. And gold? Is it legal for English royalty to collect gold in foreign countries?”

  “This film is not about Her Majesty, the current Queen of England. It all happens during the 16th Century, and Her Majesty is the first Queen Elizabeth, the daughter of King Henry the Eighth, sir.”

  “I see… this is a really good story. Who is to be Rush’s true love?”

  “She has not been cast yet, sir. But the character is that of a duke’s daughter, a lady in waiting for Queen Elizabeth, who vows to wait for Mr. Yukon as long as the stars shine in the sky, as she puts it in one of the songs.”

  “Songs?”

  “Yes, sir. It is to be a musical. GMG is making many musicals these days, they seem to be quite financially rewarding. For this song, the young lady will be in the palace’s garden, singing it to a pet unicorn, and then Mr. Yukon appears and joins her in a duet.”

  “I did not know Rush could sing.”

  “Mr. Yukon’s talents are highly versatile. I understand that he can even work on the trapeze, and had performed on it himself in one of his films, instead of hiring a stuntman.”

  “My goodness, he has some courage… and did you say his girlfriend is singing the song to a unicorn? The creature with the horn on his nose? I thought they were from fairy tales. I had no idea they lived in England at any time. Are they extinct?”

  “They had never existed, sir, despite many alleged sightings, which always turned out to be fraudulent. However, in the film, they have a herd of the mythical beasts in the garden. There are also magical birds, I believe. GMG commissioned Mr. Ray Harryhausen to create all the magical animals with his special animation techniques. The unicorn will be performing a dance with the couple.”

  “I see. Yes, it can work, Harryhausen is a genius... And did they tell Miss Moonshadow about her part as the evil seductress?”

  “Yes, sir. The young lady is delighted. I understand that she is particularly happy about the costumes – they are to be quite opulent and colourful, you see, and she is sick of wearing black and white. Her entire wardrobe is black and white now, with a few touches of silver, on Mr. Goldwasser’s request. I took it upon myself to explain to her that she is moulded into a particular image, very lady-like, hence the black and white, but she is more comfortable with Oriental splendour, I believe. I have never been to Peoria, Illinois, sir, but it seems they love colours there. During a parade, when Miss Moonshadow was the homecoming queen, her float was covered with flowers of all colours, as the young lady informed me.”

  “But what if she does fall in love with Rush?” said Mr. Alcott.

  Shymmering cleared his throat again. “It will not happen, sir. She will be too busy to fall in love with anyone. She will be under the guidance of Mrs. Lewis, who will not go to England during the filming of the sequel. In addition, she will only see Mr. Yukon for planned occasions, other than the actual filming.”

  “So I will still have a chance with Miss Moonshadow when I come back?” asked Mr. Alcott.

  “Yes, sir, if you will still wish it.”

  “Wish it? I want to marry her. Had you ever seen a more beautiful girl in your life, Shymmering?”

  “Why yes, sir. Many. Her style of beauty is not one I admire. If I may say so about a respectable young lady, her looks remind me of something vaguely reptilian, a lizard, perhaps, sir? It’s the eyes, sir, so dark, almost without pupils, and slanted…”

  “Everyone thought she was so lovely…” said Mr. Alcott feebly.

  “There is no accounting for taste,” said Shymmering firmly. “And, if I may add, I have met more intelligent young ladies as well. Miss Moonshadow, sir, is not brilliant, and you require an intelligent wife.”

  “She is just innocent, young, and pure,” said the susceptible Mr. Alcott, who seemed to have forgotten that he had once worshipped at another altar. For a moment he wondered if Shymmering thought he needed an intelligent wife because he himself was rather stupid, but immediately decided that Shymmering mean
t the exact opposite and simply felt that he needed a companion as intelligent as himself.

  “She is very wise in her own way,” he added. “I am sure of it.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Shymmering. “Excuse me, sir, the doorbell rang. I believe your guests are beginning to arrive.”

  And indeed, the first guests, Edmond and Emma, came in. Drinks were handed round and accepted. “So I understand you two are staying here for a while,” said Mr. Alcott. “Yes,” said Emma, glowing with happiness. “Miss Skull offered me a formal apprenticeship for a year, with pay! What an opportunity for me, Nes. Can you imagine? And what is happening to Edmond is even bigger! Remember his fights with the script writers regarding Dance We Shall, and how he eventually fixed everything and saved them from any trouble with the censors, particularly with the issue of the alleged bedroom door? Well, he was offered a contract for two new films! They adore him! So we are staying for a year or so, then we will return to England and get married at home.”

  “And after that?” said Mr. Alcott with great interest. “Where do you plan to live, here or in England?”

  “I think both,” said Edmond. “If all goes well, we plan to divide our time between Hollywood and London. While I am working here, I will still be able to complete a play that I had started in England, and Mr. Clover approved of when he read the first few scenes. He promised to help me put it on stage in London shortly after I come back, and Emma will design the costumes for it, of course. When we come back to Hollywood, Miss Skull will very likely offer a regular job to Emma, and no doubt I will get more contracts. It’s all too good to be true.”

  “It’s heaven!” said Emma. “A fairy tale!” Mr. Alcott laughed. “You will be leading very similar lives to Mr. Clover and Miss Dean,” he added.

  “Yes,” said Edmond. “It is exactly what we have in mind.”

  At that moment, Mr. Goldwasser and Miss Tudor arrived. It was a good thing that Mr. Alcott had forgotten his love for Miss Tudor, because she looked even lovelier than her usual gorgeous self. She wore a casual evening outfit that was so clearly the latest creation from Paris, it could not be doubted by the least understanding person, and Emma, the connoisseur, simply gasped with admiration. The outfit consisted of a blouse made of white lawn, slightly transparent so it required its own half-slip. It had big three-quarters sleeves and an elaborate, wide collar, with a touch of white embroidery. Glamora paired the spectacular blouse with a long brown velvet skirt, cut in an A-line, and added soft brown leather shoes, a simple, very large gold bracelet, and heavy gold earrings.