Portrait of a Girl (8 page)

Hoping
Dame Jenny would be unaware of my over-long absence from the house, I turned and took the thread of curving lane as quickly as possible back to Tregonnis.

*

The day for travelling to Exeter for the opening performance at the Regal Opera House at last arrived. I was given a sleeping potion the evening before to enable me to face the journey calmly, in the company of Mr Verne and his lady wife, who, unfortunately for me, insisted upon being present herself at my debut. We journeyed by luxury four horse omnibus from Truro to Plymouth, where we stayed the night. In the morning we set off by rail for Exeter, arriving at the city by four-thirty in the afternoon. Signor Luigi accompanied us for which I was grateful. He had a stabilising influence on my growing excitement and nervous tension, and although being quite tired conversation was intermittent, his presence kept me less conscious of Lady Verne’s cold stare than otherwise I would have been.

She
was looking quite regal in a plain-coloured wild crimson silk gown, under a silver grey paletot with a shoulder cape. Bands of velvet braid and plum covered buttons completed an elegant effect, and her bonnet of the same shades was worn at a fashionable angle, revealing glossy glimpses of shining black hair in contrast to the extreme magnolia pallor of her finely set features.

I
wore a new cape which her ladyship had insisted on choosing herself. It was of good quality, but as usual, brown, and rather severe, giving no glamour to my looks. My bonnet-hat, too, was ordinary. However, I contrived to add a length of green ribbon and a spray of shining leaves to brighten the effect, and from the look on my lady’s face when she noticed, I knew I’d succeeded in my objective.

When
I think back now on the next few days, no words can express the conflict of emotions — confusion, excitement, and daze of events following one upon the other at such speed my head still whirls. It was like living in a dream. I was both bewildered and exhilarated by the luxury of the hotel overlooking gardens, the delicious meals, impeccable service, the rose and gold furnishings, rich carpeting and soundless approach of servants and footmen to fulfil our slightest wish. My bedroom was huge, ornately furnished with an elegance I’d imagined existed only for royalty or in fairy tales. If I had not been so physically tired I wouldn’t have slept at all that night. But the great bed was so soft and comfortable, I drifted almost at once into dreamless slumber, waking up only when a maid servant arrived with morning tea.

After
breakfast I was taken on a shopping expedition to equip me more suitably to meet the manager in the afternoon at the theatre. He was a tall, thin man with an eagle gaze and brusque manner. He wore an eye-glass and seldom stood still, but walked to and fro unsmilingly, taking, I thought, only cursory glances at me. He made me sing a scale, move, turn, bow and curtsey, all the time frowning a little, then nodding. Eventually he said:

‘
All right, all right. That’s enough. I hope you know your words. There’ll be a rehearsal in half an hour; Elise—’ He turned his head towards the wings from where a small woman in black silk appeared as though she’d been waiting for a cue ‘— Take Miss — Miss—?’ He glanced at me enquiringly.

‘
Lebrun. Josephine Lebrun,’ Signor Luigi interposed for me.

‘
Take Miss Lebrun to the dressing room,’ the manager continued, ‘and see she’s attired appropriately as Lucy.’ He scrutinised me closely then added, ‘Green I think. The emerald green. Red is more usual for the role but would be atrocious with this girl’s colouring.’

Trying
not to feel mildly squashed, I did as I was bid and followed the little woman to the back of the stage, and along a maze of narrow dark passages and doors. The room we entered was small and stuffy, smelling mustily of dust, perspiration and makeup. There were several mirrors and tables placed about, and obviously I was not to be the only occupant. I had thought such places — anything to do with the stage — would be glamorous. But there was no glamour here, although gowns of different shades hung from pegs and an open wardrobe, and an array of gaudy glittering jewellery lay displayed giving an impression of brightness. Various pots of paint and cream cluttered shelves, and a young woman with brassy yellow hair was already seated at a dressing table cleaning her face with a cloth.

‘
Miss Annette Gold,’ I was told by the dresser, ‘she is the star of the production. A well-known actress — you must have heard of her — she plays Polly Peachum. It’s a privilege for you to have a role opposite to her. If it hadn’t been for—’ she broke off suddenly, continuing after taking a deep breath, ‘— but never mind. We can only hope that you come up to scratch. It’s always a chancy business taking on an unknown player. Had any experience at all, have you?’

‘
Oh yes, some,’ I answered not feeling it was a lie when I recollected the long arduous hours spent with Signor Luigi at Truro, and also my performances at the Golden Bird.

‘
Hm! that’s as well.’

She
bustled around telling me to disrobe as time was short for all to be punctual for the rehearsal. Clad only in bodice and pantalettes, I was then directed to sit on a stool to be pummelled, rubbed and slapped about the face by the make-up artist, until I was considered in adequate shape for being painted and powdered — garishly I thought — for the role of Lucy. When I saw myself through the mirror I was not only astonished but dismayed. The voluptuous-looking highly-coloured creature was a travesty of my real self — looking more like a successful prostitute from Dockland than Pierre’s cherished ‘princess’.

‘
But that can’t be
me
!’ I gasped.

‘
You’re not supposed to be ‘you’. You’re Lucy Lockett,’ came the quick reply.

‘
But my lips — so bright! And my
eyes
!’

‘
If you’d any knowledge of the stage, which you said you had, you’d know that under the lights and to the audience you’ll look quite different. And Lucy, remember, is a bold character. Now just keep calm and we’ll see if the dress is right.’

Whether
right or wrong the brilliant emerald-green velvet was certainly spectacular, and with a little swift taking-in at the waist fitted perfectly. My dismay gave place to incredulity, holding a certain mischievous pleasure, when at last, with my dark curls pulled back in a sophisticated style, one lock left to fall on a bare shoulder, I surveyed my full length reflection through a long glass. I was trembling a little, and gasping from excitement. The bodice was cut so low at the bosom, the nipples of my breasts almost showed. I pulled one side of the material up — or tried to. It was no use. There was a short laugh from somewhere behind me. I turned. Polly Peachum was standing there looking more attractive than I’d expected in a pink period gown, with a white apron and pretty white mob-cap.

‘
Got the jitters, have you?’ she asked. ‘Nerves. Well, it’s natural. I’ve been hearing things.’

‘
What things?’

‘
How it’s your first real part in opera. Raw beginner, aren’t you? But don’t you fret. You’ll do all right. Willie will be along presently. He’ll tell you.’

‘
Who’s Willie?’

‘
Willie Spark, stage manager and assistant director; an acquaintance of that fine lady something or other who brought you along—’

‘
Of Lady
Verne
?’

‘
Yes, that’s it. Oh, I don’t mean they’re friends or anything like that, they just met once or twice in the past, when she was in London. Willie’s quite a character — a bit talkative when he’s under the influence — you know—’ she gave an imitation of lifting a glass to her lips ‘— but comes of a good family, the reprobate, so to speak. A charmer though. Could charm the hind legs off a horse so to speak. Clever in his way.’

When
I met him, during a break in the rehearsal, I agreed. He was quick and deft at organising scenic effects in the least possible time, and had as well a soothing effect on the players, never scolding or becoming irate; his good looks and amiable disposition in fact had the whole cast comparatively cheerful, and only too willing to follow his suggestions. Obviously he was a bit of a dandy — his attire was colourful, and reminiscent of an earlier decade — artistic rather than fashionable, including a gold velvet waistcoat, and silk cravat with a yellow bow-tie. I got little praise for my performance from the producer, but when the tiring session of the rehearsal was over, Willie — everyone called him that — congratulated me. ‘You will make a most picturesque Lucy,’ he said, ‘and the range of your voice was most remarkable.’

Such
compliments raised my spirits, and later, at the hotel I was able to face Rupert and his icy wife with confidence, even a hint of pride. I hadn’t expected to have ‘to run through the play’ again — the producer’s words — on Sunday. Lady Verne openly disapproved, and I knew if Dame Jenny had known, so would she. But it was held in the afternoon, following morning service at Exeter Cathedral where her ladyship had appeared extremely smart and devout in black silk relieved by a touch of crimson. I’d been forced once more to wear my sober brown cape. I’d hoped desperately that there would be a chance for Rupert to show me some of the sights, but there was no time, and even if there had been I guessed her odious ladyship would have insisted on accompanying us. On the Monday morning a further rehearsal followed, and in the afternoon I was ordered to rest before the great occasion of the opening night at the theatre.

Oh,
how highly-wrought and on edge I felt. So much depended on the result of this debut. Waiting in the wings for my first appearance was sheer torture. My spine was rigid, alternate waves of icy cold and heat flooded me. At one moment my heart raced so wildly I thought I’d faint. But Willie, mercifully, sensing the ordeal, came to my aid speedily, smiling, and with a small glass containing a potion of clear liquid. In a moment, when no-one could observe me, he handed it to me, whispering, ‘Drink that up, darling, it will revive and steady you. And have no fear. Without nerves you’d be no actress. You’ll be splendid—’ he withdrew quickly, and automatically I obeyed and swallowed the potion.

For
minutes afterwards I felt comforted and calm, eager, in fact, to make my entrance. The stimulant, combined with the knowledge that I looked well in the striking green velvet, and that Rupert had the best seat in the dress circle to watch, filled me with sudden overpowering joy. My head felt light, even my legs were a little unsteady, but I knew my voice was in good form. I would be a successful rival to Polly Peachum. Rupert would be proud of me — I would become a great singer, just for him.

At
last my cue came.

Lifting
my head I swept — almost tottering — on to the stage. The lights at first bewildered me, then, at a sign from the stage manager, as the accompaniment struck up, I opened my mouth for the first full-throated notes to emerge.

What
exactly happened next I can’t clearly recall — only that for a dreadful few seconds no sound came. My throat felt dry, parched. I took a deep breath and a harsh croak shattered the air. I paused and tried again. It was useless, terrifying. What had happened? Where had my voice gone? I couldn’t sing. From shocked astonishment the audience gave vent to low ‘boos’ and muffled laughter that quickly changed to guffaws of derision. Rude comments were shouted as I struggled for composure, to refrain from swooning. My last conscious memory was of the curtain rattling down and white masks of faces crowding round as I was pulled and half-carried from the stage to the dressing room.

Then
mercifully oblivion claimed me, and when I came to myself I was in a cab being taken back to the hotel, sick, faint, a failure, and wishing I could die.

Chapter Five

For two days following the terrible episode leading to the disgrace and failure of what should have been my successful debut as a singer and actress, a depressing silence lay like a pall over Tregonnis. Dame Jenny said little, but I sensed she was not unsympathetic.

‘
Never mind,’ she said. ‘Showing off to a lot of folk isn’t all that important. To my mind ‘tis a far more honourable accomplishment knowing how to bake a good cake or stitch a tidy sampler. Cheer up, my maid. Thee’ll discover all in good time that it was for the best. Life has a cunning pattern to it that’s not always seen till later when it’s clear as daylight.’

‘
I failed,’ I answered. ‘I was just no good, and Mr Verne there! — I’ll never forget,
never
. And I can’t
understand
. I hadn’t my voice at all — my throat was dry, and when I opened my mouth it was as though all breath went, and — and my head ached so. I couldn’t even
see
properly. There must have been a reason. But what? —
What
?’

‘
Now, now, don’t work thyself into a tizzy,’ the old lady remarked calmly. ‘Probably it was nerves brought on a turn. Anyway the doctor will find out when he calls.’

‘
The doctor?’

‘
Her ladyship’s specialist. I had word brought by Jan, farmer Carne’s boy, about an hour ago, that he’d be calling this morning to give an examination.’

‘
On
me
?’

Dame
Jenny nodded. ‘And quite right, too.’

I
was suddenly suspicious, and for no logical reason I suppose, but anything to do with Lady Verne was hateful to me.

‘
Did she write it?’

‘
No, the Master. I have it here. You can read it if you like.’ She went to her own small desk and handed me an envelope. I took the piece of paper out, and read:

Just
a word, ma’am, to say that Doctor Zane, my lady wife’s medical adviser, will be calling this morning about twelve o’clock to make certain Miss Lebrun has fully recovered from her collapse and that she is suffering no signs of serious illness. His professional opinion will then be conveyed to me, and we will be in a position to decide her future.

Yours
faithfully,

Rupert
Verne.

I
handed the note back to her.

‘
I see. Thank you.’

So
formal, so cold; so detached as though I was some embarrassing commodity or horse from the stables, to be priced and sold, if necessary, to a convenient bidder.

A
horse! I remembered vividly the occasion on which Signor Luigi had likened my movements to one of the species. Perhaps it was true, I thought, reviewing my status disparagingly. Perhaps the fire in Rupert’s eyes for me had kindled merely because I’d appeared a worthwhile investment. If so, how shamefully I had been deceived.

Involuntarily
the nails of both hands dug hard into my clenched palms.

‘
So we shall have to abide by the doctor’s verdict,’ I heard Dame Jenny saying fatuously. ‘And if—’

‘
I don’t think the doctor will find anything wrong with my health,’ I interrupted sharply. ‘And whether he does or not, I’m quite capable of deciding my own future.’

‘
Maybe. But you’ve got to remember all the Master’s done for thee, which leaves you indebted to him, surely?’

‘
I shall be able to repay anything that’s been spent on me,’ I said, lifting my head proudly. ‘I lived quite profitably before, and can do so again, if necessary.’

‘
Hoity-toity! Singing in cheap inns and houses of ill-fame do ’ee mean? An’ suppose you do suffer another fit like the one at Exeter?’

‘
It wasn’t a fit. It was—’

I
broke off because I had no explanation to give, unless — I suddenly stiffened. My spine went rigid and my senses froze as I recalled the draught given to me by Willie, who had not only been stage manager at the theatre, but also an acquaintance of Lady Verne. Why had the connection not occurred to me before? Or could it have been coincidence? Whatever the answer I had no way of proving it. Neither would the doctor be of any use. I felt intuitively that he would do his best to prove me an unreliable character given to fits of hysteria which would make me therefore quite unsuitable for a serious stage career. Yes, the doctor was a friend of her ladyship and this was exactly what she would wish.

Perhaps
I was being mean in attributing such unethical conduct to a man I’d never met; but half an hour later, when he walked into the parlour my instinctive suspicions were intensified.

He
was a small portly figure, over-elegantly dressed for a professional man, with a smooth tongue, obsequious manners, and a way of smiling with his lips but not his eyes, that discomforted me.

In
Dame Jenny’s presence he made me unbutton my bodice, then with odious plump fingers started tapping here and there, lingering sensuously for a second or two about my breasts where I clutched my camisole tightly above the nipples.

At
last, becoming irritated with such an unobliging patient, he released me, put his stethoscope away, and remarked in bored booming tones, ‘Nothing I can find wrong with you at all —
physically
. That you should lose your voice and go into a swoon on such an important occasion denotes a certain nervous instability, no more. I will inform your master and her ladyship that there is no need for concern. That is all then, thank you!’

He
gave a little bow, collected his bag, and with the old lady fluttering before him to open the door, left.

When
she returned I remarked derisively, ‘I
thought
so.’

‘
What do you mean, girl?’

‘
That he’d try to make me out a half-wit and hysteric,’ I answered bluntly. ‘Being Lady Verne’s doctor, he
would
.’

‘
Now that’s not at all a nice thing to say,’ the old lady said, pursing her lips. ‘It just shows you’re not yourself. Her ladyship and the Master’ve done all they could to bring you fame and riches. But you weren’t bred for it, girl, and—’

‘
What do you mean
bred
for it?’ I flashed, before she could finish. ‘My breeding — if you
must
use such an obnoxious word, is as good as any in the land. My mother was beautiful, of a respectable Welsh family, and my father was a fine Breton seaman. He died in a wreck, bringing food to this country, and both my parents had a love of music. He taught me early how to sing and to learn good language. They weren’t rich or anything, but what does that matter? Money’s nothing without happiness or talent. And they loved each other.
Really
loved.’

I
broke off breathlessly, feeling suddenly so low and depressed I could have broken into sobs. But I didn’t. What point was there in crying when the old lady would merely have taken it as proof of the doctor’s opinion that I was indeed nervously unstable, and that my terrible stage debut had been the result of a fit of hysterics? It was important I controlled myself, giving a show of pride, whatever doubts her ladyship and Doctor Zane contrived to instill into Rupert’s mind.

After
a short pause I heard Dame Jenny say placatingly, ‘No one suggested anything against your folk. You’re fancying things, girl. Perhaps it’s natural, after what you’ve been through. I was just pointing out to thee, that persons of high standing like the master and his lady wife are on a different level from us humbler kind, which you’d do well to remember.’

‘
Social levels mean nothing to me,’ I stated, a little rudely perhaps.

‘
No. You’ve made that clear,’ she said sharply. ‘But it will be to the benefit of both of us if you behave in a proper manner when Master Verne calls.’

‘
He may not call at all.’

‘
Oh yes, indeed he will,’ came the reply. ‘Tomorrow sometime, after he’s had the doctor’s report.’

And
he did.

Against
Dame Jenny’s specific instructions I wore the violet velvet, ignoring her fumings, which at one point almost rose to high-pitched screaming. She’d probably also noticed I’d applied a little lip salve which gave me confidence.

‘
I told thee ’twasn’t seemly for the occasion,’ she cried, thrusting her old chin forward aggressively. ‘Why you’ve got to be so stubborn an’ headstrong I don’ know. Shameless, you are.
Shameful
. There’s a devil in ’ee an’ that’s f’r sure. Just when it’s right to show a little modesty you come downstairs lookin’ like a strumpet from a bad-house—’

I
strolled over to the mirror, lifted my chin, and loosened a stray dark curl from the lilac ribbons that held it, so it fell against one cheek softly. Then I shrugged, appearing more nonchalant than I felt.

‘
As you think of me in that way surely it’s correct to be obvious.’

‘
And now, on top of it all — impudence,’ she muttered raspingly.

‘
Perhaps,’ I agreed. ‘If so I’ve nothing to lose. Let Master Verne see me as
you
do, a strumpet, then maybe you’ll be rid of me sooner than you expected.’

It
was a cruel statement to make because I knew in many ways I was of great help to the old lady, and that she’d miss me sorely. But tart words just then seemed the only possible way to ease my tension during the waiting period for Rupert Verne’s arrival.

He
came in the afternoon looking tired and a little worried, but so incredibly handsome my heart lurched in the old familiar way, but more intensely, more longingly, mingled with a dread feeling of hopelessness.

He
dismissed Dame Jenny tactfully, bade me sit down, then walked to the window, staring towards the garden for a few seconds before turning again to me.

‘
I hope you’ve recovered,’ he said before easing himself against the table, half sitting, half standing. ‘I had the doctor’s report yesterday evening.’

‘
Oh yes,’ I murmured over-casually. ‘I can guess what it was.’

‘
Indeed?’ his voice was sceptical, but his eyes were so intent on my face I turned my gaze away, trying to quell the creeping flush up my spine which could so easily stain my cheeks to vivid rose. There was a pause until he continued, ‘I’ve every faith in Doctor Zane’s opinion which is that the stress of the occasion must have been too much for your highly-strung temperament—’

I
gave a false short laugh. ‘Of course. I knew it would be that.’

‘
And how did you know?’

‘
Because he’d made up his mind beforehand,’ I answered recklessly. ‘He’d been well primed.’

‘
Whatever are you talking about?’ He jerked himself up-right; a second later I too was standing, facing him. I was on the point of blurting out what I believed, but realising that to bring his wife into the affair at that point would be useless, and only turn him against me, I prevaricated clumsily, saying, ‘A concoction — a draught of something was given to me to drink before I went on the stage. It was the stage-manager — it was supposed to steady me, the potion I mean. But it could have been something else, couldn’t it? — And suppose he knew the doctor—’ I paused briefly then continued quickly, almost swallowing my words, ‘— There’s a lot of jealousy among the cast, and I kind of sensed that one or two didn’t like me—’ Oh, what a mess I was making of everything, I thought, suddenly breaking off.

Rupert
shook his head slowly, a look of disbelief and pity on his face.

‘
My dear girl, what you lack in stage-discipline, you certainly make up for in imagination. The whole idea is quite ridiculous. No, please don’t try such absurd excuses on me—’

‘
Excuses
?’ I echoed hotly. ‘I’m not trying to excuse myself. Why should I? I was a failure and that’s all that matters. I’m sorry you should have wasted time and money on me, but I’ll repay you somehow. There’s no point in talking about it any more. I said you wouldn’t believe me. So please—’ I swallowed painfully.

‘
Yes, Josephine? Please what?’

His
voice had softened. He put both hands on my shoulders. I turned my face away, and tried to free myself before I weakened and flung myself into his arms. I longed to — God knows I did. But pride and fear he’d despise me, made me fight.

‘
Let me go,’ I said brokenly. ‘That’s all. Let me go!’

He
did so immediately.

‘
Certainly. I’ve no taste for your dramatics.’

I
walked away from him, brushed a lock of hair from my forehead, made a pretence of tidying a ribbon at my bodice, then turned, cheeks flaming, and regarded him with what I hoped was a touch of dignity.