Daughter of Deceit (20 page)

Lisa had told Dolly that I proposed to come to see the show with a friend, and he had arranged seats in the stalls. I knew it would be an emotional experience, going to the theatre where my mother had last performed, and I steeled myself for it.

When the curtain rose, I quickly identified Lisa. I watched her closely. She was outstanding. She sang the songs with special verve and danced abandonedly. I was not surprised that Dolly had chosen her to understudy Lottie Langdon. Lottie herself was a very professional performer, but she lacked the charisma which had been so much a part of my mother’s personality.

The play was a trivial piece, but no more so than
Countess Maud,
yet it lacked flair, which meant that it lacked Desiree.

Dolly came to us in the interval. He wanted to know how I was getting on, and looked at me with such tenderness that I felt a rush of emotion.

“If there is anything you want, you know …”

“Oh, Dolly,” I said. “I know.”

“That’s the spirit. What do you think of the show?”

Roderick joined me in saying that it was most enjoyable.

“Not bad,” said Dolly. “If only …” He sighed sadly.

“How’s Lisa Fennell getting on?” I asked him.

“Not bad,” he said again. “Not bad at all. She’s enthusiastic, I’ll say that for her … and that’s half the battle. She’s no Desiree, of course, but then, who ever would be?”

We were silent for a moment, thinking of her.

“I’d like to see Lisa after the show,” I said.

“Go along to her dressing room. You’ll see her there. It’s the
second of the chorus rooms. You know the way.”

“I know it well.”

“Are you going to be long in London?”

“No,” answered Roderick. “We are going back tomorrow.”

“Charlie well?”

“Yes. He’s on the Continent at the moment. He’ll probably be away for some weeks.”

“Well, I must leave you. Bound to be some drama backstage. Never knew a show without them. I’ll be seeing you again soon, Noelle. You know there’ll be a seat for you at any of my shows.”

“Thank you, Dolly.”

He kissed me and left us; and after the show was over we went to the chorus dressing room and found Lisa.

She was delighted to see us.

“You must come out and have supper with us,” said Roderick.

Her face lit up with pleasure. “That would be wonderful! Can you give me a few minutes to change?”

While we waited for her, we talked to the doorman, who was overjoyed to see me.

“It seems a long time since you used to come here,” he said to me. “Things don’t seem the same. Desiree was wonderful. Always a cheery word and a smile. It’s not the same without her.”

I thought: There is everything and everyone here to remind me.

Lisa was animated at supper that night. She was so excited about her career, which was progressing well.

“Of course, I am only in the chorus,” she explained. “But that’s going to change. The fact that Dolly has made me understudy to Lottie shows it. What I’m waiting for is the chance to show them what I can do.”

I could not help thinking of her chance which had come through my mother’s illness … that slight indisposition which had resulted in her death.

“The opportunity will come one day,” said Roderick. “The great thing in life is to be ready for it when it does.”

“I know that’s true. I shall be ready. I’d love to be in something better than
Rags and Tatters.
“

“You will,” prophesied Roderick.

She was smiling at him. “Now tell me about yourself and that wonderful place where the Romans were.”

“Noelle is very interested in it.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “It is quite fascinating. I have been allowed to help clean some of the fragments of pottery and things which have been found.”

“How wonderful! I should love to see it.”

“You must come down one day,” said Roderick.

I could not help wondering what Lady Constance’s reaction would be if she were confronted by a dancer from the chorus of
Rags and Tatters.
It was a thought which depressed me, reminding me as it did of my own reception.

I was rather silent, and Roderick, with his quick understanding
of other people’s feelings, realized that the theatre had brought back memories. It was too soon to have come back.

I should have more chance of putting the past behind me away from London. I was right to have decided to go back with Roderick … for a time at least.

I was greeted coolly by Lady Constance, who managed to convey that she was disappointed and had hoped that I might stay in London. Gertie was delighted to see me. It was from her that I learned the news.

“The weather’s been something shocking. It started to rain the day you left and has hardly stopped since. The river overflowed and there was a bit of trouble near all that Roman stuff. Stands to reason … all that digging. Then Grace tripped down the stairs and hurt her ankle.”

Grace was one of the maids who looked after Lady Constance’s rooms. She was more mature than most of them and had been with the household since she was thirteen.

“I hope she wasn’t badly hurt,” I said.

“Well, she’s had to lay up. Mustn’t put her foot to the ground, so the doctor says. Lady Constance sent for the doctor. So it’s me that has to do her ladyship’s rooms now.” She grimaced.

“And that does not please you, Gertie?”

“You know what her ladyship is like. She’s that particular. I’d rather look after you, miss.”

“Thank you, Gertie, but I expect Grace will be better soon.”

“Can’t be too soon for me.”

I went to see Fiona. She welcomed me warmly and told me about the flooding and the land falling in. “It’s not far from the mosaic paving,” she said. “I was very excited when it happened. I thought it might reveal something. I daresay there will be some investigation soon, but the land is too soggy at the moment. As soon as it’s a little drier, they’ll probably get to work on it.”

“I wonder if they will discover something else.”

“It’s a possibility. We’ll have to wait and see. In the meantime,
have a look at this drinking vessel. Look at the intricate engraving on it. I’m having a lovely time piecing it together.”

While she was showing me, Mrs. Carling arrived. There was a certain reproach in the look she gave me which I knew meant that she was disappointed in me for not taking her advice to stay away.

“Miss Tremaston has been to London,” said Fiona. “She and Roderick came back yesterday.”

“Travelled together, did you?”

“Yes,” I answered. “He came to London while I was there. So … we came back together.”

“London must seem exciting … after this,” said Mrs. Carling.

“Oh, it is very pleasant here. And all this …” I waved my hand towards the site. “I find it most exciting.”

She gave me a penetrating look, and Fiona said: “I’ll make some coffee.”

“I’ll do that,” put in Mrs. Carling. “You get on showing Miss Tremaston those things.”

As we sat drinking the coffee, I was aware of Mrs. Carling’s attention, which seemed to be fixed on me.

I guessed she was really hurt, and a little angry, because I had not taken her advice.

It was midmorning. Roderick had gone off early with the agent on estate business, and I was wondering what I should do. I should have liked to ride out somewhere … perhaps down to the sea or through some of the little villages in the neighbourhood, but I was not really proficient enough to go out alone. Very soon I hoped to be.

I decided I would stroll down to see Fiona, which was becoming quite a habit. She seemed to like my company and clearly enjoyed talking about the artifacts and how she was treating them.

I was descending the stairs past those rooms which were occupied by Lady Constance when I noticed the door of one of them was open.

Gertie must have heard my footsteps, for she came out.

“Miss,” she whispered. “I have to show you this … it’s what I’ve found.” She put her fingers to her lips, and added: “Come in.”

I hesitated. This was Lady Constance’s bedroom, where Gertie had been working since Grace was unable to.

“You must see,” went on Gertie. “You’ll be ever so interested.”

Still I held back.

“Look … I’ll show you …”

She retreated into the room. I still stood at the door. I watched her go to the dressing table; she opened a drawer and took out a book. It was fairly large … a kind of scrapbook. She spread it out on the dressing-table top and looked over her shoulder at me conspiratorily, jerking her head in a beckoning manner.

I should have refused, I knew, but I acted on impulse and tiptoed into the room.

Gertie pointed to the open book.

I approached and gasped, for I could see a picture of my mother there. I remembered that picture well. It was taken while she was playing in
Sweet Lavender.
I knew the dress … a lavender-coloured crinoline. There was a mauve velvet band about her neck with some brilliants in the front.

I could not stop myself then. I went closer.

“D6siree, Miss Lavender, dominates the stage,” I read. “Her scintillating presence can even light up this dull piece.”

I felt the tears in my eyes, and for a few seconds I forgot to wonder why a picture of my mother should be in a scrapbook which must belong to Lady Constance.

“It’s all about her, miss,” Gertie was saying. “Look.” She turned a page. There were pictures of my mother … sometimes with other actors and actresses. “Desiree in
Passion Flower”;
“Desiree in
Red Roses for May. ”
The cuttings were all about her. “Desiree, looking exquisite, brought something to the tired old songs.”
“The Girl from the Country:
a poor thing but Desiree’s own.”

The scrapbook was full of these pieces. Someone had taken the trouble to cut them out and paste them in this book.

I
was completely absorbed. Once again my memory was betraying me.

Then suddenly I was struck with horror. A shiver ran through me. I knew instinctively, before I turned, that we were being watched.

Lady Constance was standing in the doorway.

She advanced towards us. Her eyes went to the scrapbook. She said in icy tones: “I was wondering to what I owed your presence in my room.”

“Oh …” I stammered. “I was passing … and I just stopped to speak to Gertie.”

Gertie was trembling. With a nervous gesture she closed the book and put it into the open drawer from which she had taken it.

“I thought you would have finished at least ten minutes ago,” said Lady Constance to Gertie. “Grace never took so long.”

I muttered something about just going out. She nodded at me and, overcome by embarrassment and guilt, I escaped.

My thoughts were in a turmoil as I went out of the house. I felt the cool breeze on my heated face. What a terrible situation! How could I have been so foolish? I had allowed myself to pry into her secrets.

There was no doubt in my mind that she was the one who had cut out those pictures, who had pasted the notices into the book, who had read them and suffered over them and been tortured by them.

I had know the depth of Charlie’s feelings for my mother, and so had Lady Constance.

Gertie was frightened. She told me that she had indeed “cooked her goose.” Now she was waiting for the blow to fall.

“She didn’t say much,” she went on. “But if looks could have killed, I would have dropped down stone dead. It’s just that I know she’ll be watching me all the time … looking for trouble. I know she is just waiting to pounce … and I don’t know what I’ll do, miss, I really don’t. You see, how will I get another place? Stands to reason, she wouldn’t give me a reference, would she?

And there’s all them at home … too young to go out and earn. You see, miss?”

I did see and I was desperately sorry for her.

I also had some pity for Lady Constance, for I felt I knew what had helped to make her what she was. I could not stop thinking of how she must have felt for all those years. She must have loved Charlie. I had sensed that. Charlie and Roderick were everything to her. And through the years she had known of her husband’s devotion to Desiree. Naturally she had wanted to know as much as possible about her rival. She had made a scrapbook about her career. It was pitiable. Poor Lady Constance! And poor Gertie!

The accident to the bust on the stairs happened three days later.

The bust was of one of the members of the family in the uniform of a general. It was placed on a carved mahogany pedestal and stood on a landing in between the second flight of stairs and the third.

It was one of Gertie’s duties to clean the stairs. I had heard her refer to the bust as “the old un with the cap and the whiskers.” The whiskers had been sculpted with skill and the peaked cap and uniform suggested a somewhat formidable general of great dignity.