Exit the Actress (15 page)

The berline was far too broad for our little alley. I alighted at the end of the lane and gingerly walked home. Gently lifting our sticky latch, I let myself in. Grandfather had waited up for me. The fire had nearly died out. Jeffrey lifted his head and licked my hand before resuming his snooze.

Without preamble, Grandfather asked, “Do you care for him?” I felt he had long been rehearsing this question. He continued, “Despite your great-aunt’s misgivings, I
can
believe that there is much good in this life you have found … as long as you are not …
distressed
by this man’s attentions.”

I busied myself hanging my cloak and scarf upon the peg. At last, turning back to face him, I replied, “Mr. Hart is a good man, Grandfather. He cares for me sincerely and I will be …
safe
in his care.” I sounded more confident than I felt, and I did not quite answer his question. In truth, I was not sure of the answer myself, but I wanted to reassure him of my present contentment. I think I knew where his deepest concerns lay. “Are you … concerned that I will follow in Rose’s …
profession
?” I hedged.

Outside, I heard the night watchman calling the hour and declaring the king’s peace. Eleven o’clock.

Grandfather sighed, “Ellen, let us call a spade a spade. Your sister, whom I love sincerely, is a common whore, and I could not wish such a life for you. You have not the temperament, and I have not the heart.”

I shifted uncomfortably, “I have no plans to become—”

“I’m sure Rose did not intend to become … no, no.” He shook his head, interrupting his own train of thought. “I know that you could not give your body without your affection. You are too much your father’s daughter for that.”

At that, I looked up, surprised, for Grandfather so rarely mentions his lost son. “Am I really like him? I know so little of my father,” I said cautiously, the name sounding unfamiliar on my tongue, not wanting to press, knowing his loss still pained Grandfather.

“Oh, my girl. You have his neat bright looks, his quick wit, and his passionate nature. People are drawn to you, the way that they were drawn to him. All his life he was very much loved, and now he is still very much missed. Your mother can hardly breathe for want of him, and I … I think of him every day.” Then, recovering himself, he said gruffly, “Now, no more questions, that is all much in the past. My concern is that you are cared for, and happy—and you are. That was all I needed to know.”

Now in my own bed, I hug my secret close. Not like Rose, I tell myself. Not like Rose. I will be treasured. I will be cherished. I will be faithful to just
one
man, and I will love and appreciate him as best as I can. I do
like
him very much. That is something. That is a great deal. That is surely different from a common whore, isn’t it?

Not such a secret, it seems. This morning, after rehearsal, Becka cornered me in the tiring rooms. “That gown is lovely,” she said in honeyed tones. (
Another
new gown from Hart, this one cut low after the French fashion, in
pear-green taffeta, edged in cream Venice
pointe,
and beneath it is a
beautiful
fluffy petticoat.) “Is it new?” she asked, with false innocence.

“No,” I lied. “It was my sister’s before me.”

“Oh, Ellen,” she chided. “We all
know
it is new, and we all
know
who gave it to you.”

How do they all know, and why do they all care? Gossip is much less fun when I am the topic. No idea how to stop these rumours. So exasperating.

“I swear I didn’t tell.” Teddy held up his right hand in a mock oath. “Anyway, why are you so bloody concerned? It is just bloody Becka, after all.” Teddy dislikes the Marshall sisters.

“Yes, but if it is Becka, then it is Nan, too. I just don’t like people
knowing. Knowing
that I go to his house. That we—”

“What you mean is that you don’t like people talking. Talking about you going to his rooms, and what you do once you get there,” said Teddy, going straight to the heart as usual. “In any case, I don’t see how it could stay a secret for long, not with the way he moons around after you.”

“Shh!” There were others in the tiring room.

“I think it’s sweet, and your gown
is
pretty,” chimed Peg from her dressing table.

“Oh! Is there anyone who doesn’t know?” I wailed, quickly unhitching my skirts, concealing my beautiful petticoat.

“Know what?” asked Theo, entering the tiring room. “Teddy, have you seen my boot buckles? Anne shined them, and I thought I put them on the vanity, but somehow already I seem to have—”

“Here,” Teddy rooted around and produced the missing buckles. “They were under Rob’s wig.” Theo is always losing
everything.
“Know about Ellen and
you know who,
” he finished in a noisy stage whisper.

“Teddy!” I protested.

“I didn’t actually say it!” Teddy countered amiably.

“Oh, yes, Anne told me,” Theo said absently. “You two seem to get on so well. I think it is lovely, my dear.”

“Anne!” I screeched, “How did
Anne
know?”

“Oh, sweetheart”—Peg shot me a pitying glance—”
everyone
knows. It is not such a bad thing, after all,” said Peg, checking her pale blond wig in the mirror (she is on this afternoon). “He seems gone on you, and he is a major shareholder and really is the
star
of the theatre. It
could
be Teddy here, who is just a lowly—” She ducked as Teddy sent a powder puff flying in her direction.

“Oh really, Teddy!” exclaimed Theo, who suffered a direct hit. I giggled in spite of myself.

Note
—Hart has insisted I give up working for Meg. “Why should you tire yourself out peddling fruit when I can easily provide for you?” he asked genially, erasing the structure of my life. He is giving me a generous weekly allowance that will support Mother and Grandfather and Rose as well as afford me any luxury I could wish.

“But surely I will be earning a salary as an actress soon?” I hinted leadenly. He did not respond.

My family is impossible! Mother has already spent
all
of my week’s allowance on drink (I had to confess my penury to Hart—very embarrassing), and Rose still insists on staying on with Madame Ross. I had hoped she would turn her hand to full-time sewing, but she has refused. “The work’s not steady enough, Ellen.” She shrugged. “Besides, Lewkenor Lane is what I know.” Hopeless.

The morning began like any other:

“We must have another one
soon,
Dryden!” said Hart, waving his toast for emphasis.

“Not too soon,” cautioned Tom, stroking Kitt’s folded ears.

“Well, that is good to hear, as I have not yet started on another play. I only finished
Queene
last week!” said John Dryden, dramatically putting his hand to his brow. He is a slight, round-faced, mannered man, given to theatrical gestures.

“Ugh,
quel désastre
!” said Teddy dramatically. “
Three weeks
of script changes!” I looked at Dryden, who did not seem the least apologetic for the turmoil he has caused in the last month. He was wearing the most astonishing canary-yellow hat, complete with ostrich plumes
and
small feathers
and
velvet ribbons
and
gold buttons
plus
an enormous blond periwig with ringlets almost reaching his waist. He looked like a frosted lemon wedding cake. He is not a tall man, and I feared he might crumple under the weight of this complicated confection. He was holding his coffee cup in the most curiously affected way, with his smallest finger arched awkwardly in the air. Did he think it elegant? His new play, written with his esteemed brother-in-law, Mr. Robert Howard (whom he never seems to mention), is a raging hit, and I know that Hart wants him to write him a significant heroic role in the next one, but is tactfully waiting for Dryden to suggest it first.

“Is it true they are queuing up already?” Teddy reached for a second slice of pie. “Mmm, this is delicious. Theo, you must have some.”

“No, no, I am all right,” said Theo quietly, sitting beside me, closest to the fire.

“Darling, you have hardly been eating and are withering away. Isn’t Anne feeding you?” Teddy clucked automatically. As Teddy lives with the Bird family, he well knows that Anne keeps a hearty table, easily feeding him as well as Theo, young Theo, Eliza, Michael, and their new baby. Teddy married two years ago, but his young wife, whom we never see, seems to be forever visiting her parents in the country.

“Yes,” said Tom, with contained pride. “They have been outside the theatre since nine, and the chief constable called just before I left to discuss the troublesome traffic congestion we are causing.”

Dryden took another dainty sip, crooked finger still hanging in the air. Yes, I decided, he must think it is elegant. His heavy curls bobbed as he spoke. “Ah … I have been thinking about this problem—”

I sat back in my great chair, warmed by the fire, and let my thoughts drift away. This conversation did not require my attention, as it seemed as if my stage ambitions were to end in Hart’s bed. Since I became his mistress, all talk of my famed debut has vanished. Ah well, so long as I am warm and dry, what matter if it happens sooner or later?

“Theo, Theo!” I suddenly heard Teddy cry anxiously, leaping from his chair.

Alarmed, I came back to the room with a jolt. “Theo?” I asked, kneeling beside him, ignoring the commotion around me. I gently took his hand in mine. His head had pitched forward oddly, and he looked down at me with strange, clouded eyes.

“Anne,” he said simply.

“No, it is Ellen. Dearest, we will find Anne and get you home.” I felt Hart’s solid bulk behind me. His hands were firm on my shoulders.

He said in a low and steady voice, “Tom has already gone to fetch his personal physician, and Dryden’s gone to bring his carriage from the theatre. Teddy and I will stay here with him. Quickly, go now and find Anne.”

“Yes,” I said, gathering my skirts and throwing on my cloak. I squeezed Theo’s hand once more and firmly kissed his cheek.

“You know where it is?” called Hart. “Katherine Street!” But I was already out the door.

I knew just where it was. The snug and happy yellow house with the blue door. I ran through the grey streets until I found it.

Hart has finally brought me home to Maiden Lane to sleep for a few hours. Although I doubt if I can sleep. Dr. Bangs says Theo has had an apoplexy, and he will not survive it. How calm and accepting I sound, and most likely that is how I appear to others, but it is so untrue. I hurry and prepare remedies of egg whites, orange water, and liquorice and soothing poultices of relaxing herbs in the hope of relieving the horrible constriction in Theo’s limbs. Anne applies them with diligence, but we both know they are of no use. I just need to
do
something, as does she. In truth, we are just waiting.

Anne
—the only word Theo has spoken since this nightmare began.

Will Cartwright stood in for Teddy tonight, even though he is far too old for the role and does not know the lines. He carried the script onto the stage with him. Teddy would not be persuaded to leave Katherine Street. He hovers outside the door to the sickroom. He is also waiting.