Chapter 4
Four
“One always hears the best gossip at the dressmaker’s,” Mrs. Florence said reminiscently, after hearing Madeline describe her visit to Mrs. Bernard’s.
“It always seems to be brimming with news of scandal and intrigue. I daresay I was discussed in many a shop—women were always terrified that I would steal their husbands or paramours.”
“And did you?” Madeline couldn’t help asking.
“Just one or two.”
Madeline smiled and investigated Mrs. Florence’s sitting room.
A scanty costume made of gauze and clasps of semiprecious stones had been framed and hung in the center of one wall.
On either side of the costume were carved trunks fashioned in triangular shapes to fit in the corners. “What do you keep in here?” she asked.
“Mementos from my younger days.” Mrs. Florence rearranged herself on a chair upholstered in painted velvet and nibbled from a plate of sandwiches. “You may look inside, if you wish.”
Needing no further encouragement, Madeline knelt on the Aubusson carpet and turned the key of the first trunk. A stale aroma of lavender sachets wafted upward. Carefully Madeline removed a stack of clothing neatly packed in tissue.
“That was what I wore as Hippolita, in She Would and She Would Not,” Mrs. Florence said, as Madeline unwrapped a military costume, complete with knee breeches and a plumed hat.
“I was always good in tomboy roles—I had a nice pair of legs.” She leaned forward with increasing interest and enjoyment. “And that was my Ophelia gown.”
Reverently Madeline held up a costume of filmy white and green, adorned with hundreds of tiny embroidered rosebuds. “You must have been stunning in this!”
“There’s a matching hairpiece in one of those smaller boxes,” Mrs. Florence said.
Opening a leather case, Madeline discovered elaborate jewelry; gloves of lace, silk, and leather; faded shoes painted with flowered designs; and an array of fans. Mrs. Florence commented on many of the items, telling tales of her days in the theater while Madeline listened avidly.
However, when Madeline came to a small green-lacquered case, Mrs. Florence’s smile vanished, and an expression of anxiety and sorrow appeared on her face. “Don’t open that, child. It’s private.”
“Oh, I’m sorry—”
“It’s perfectly all right. Just give it to me, please.” The elderly woman received it in her wrinkled hands, white fingers gripping the case tightly. She stared down at the object, seeming to forget Madeline’s presence.
“Ma’am…shall I put everything away and leave?” Madeline asked softly.
Mrs. Florence started a little at the sound of her voice.
There was infinite regret in her gaze. “It contains a set of miniatures,” she told Madeline, her thumbs passing over the lacquered case repeatedly, smudging the glossy surface.
Slowly she raised the box and kissed it, then regarded Madeline with bright eyes. “Would you like to see one of them?”
Madeline nodded, drawing closer and kneeling by the elderly woman’s feet.
Fumbling a little, Mrs. Florence withdrew one of the tiny gold-framed pictures and handed it to Madeline.
The painting was a portrait of a little girl no more than five or six, with large blue eyes and an angelic face. A huge bonnet was tied over her head, long red curls trailing beneath it. “How lovely,” Madeline said sincerely. “Who is she?”
“My daughter.”
Surprised, Madeline continued to gaze at the miniature. “I wasn’t aware that you—”
“Few people ever were. She was illegitimate, you see.” She paused and surveyed Madeline’s face, perhaps hunting for a sign of shock or condemnation.
Finding none, she continued. “I wasn’t much older than you are when my Elizabeth was born.
Her father was a wonderful man, handsome and honorable, though not well-born.
He wanted to marry me, but only on the condition that I leave the stage forever. ”
“Did you love him?”
“Heavens, yes. If I ever felt magic with anyone, it was with him. But I turned down his proposal. I didn’t want to sacrifice my career; it meant too much to me.
When I found out I was expecting, I never told him.
Eventually he married someone else, and to all appearances led a happy life.
According to a mutual acquaintance, he died ten years ago. ”
“Did you ever regret not marrying him?” Madeline asked.
“I don’t allow myself to have regrets.”
They were both quiet then, staring at the portrait. “Where is she now?” Madeline asked.
Mrs. Florence’s answer was barely audible. “Elizabeth died many years ago.”
“Oh, Mrs. Florence…” Madeline was filled with compassion.
“I never knew her very well,” the elderly woman confided, stretching out her hand for the miniature, her fingers curling around it tightly. “I kept her with me during her early childhood, but when she reached an appropriate age, I sent her away to school.”
“Why?”
“Life in the theater world wasn’t suitable for Elizabeth—being exposed to my gentlemen friends and so forth.
I wanted her to be sheltered and educated.
I made certain that she had the finest clothes, books, dolls…
anything she needed. Sometimes I would take her traveling on holidays.
We never discussed my profession or the kind of life I led.
I had dreams that someday she would marry well and live in a grand home in the country.
Instead…” Mrs. Florence fell silent and shook her head.
Madeline’s mind sifted through various possibilities until the elderly woman’s expression of sad irony made the answer clear. “Elizabeth wanted to be like you,” Madeline said with quiet certainty.
“Yes. She left school of her own accord and told me that she intended to become an actress. I begged her not to, but nothing would change her mind. The desire to act always seems strongest in people with a great emptiness to fill. No doubt Elizabeth had many needs that were never met, especially the desire for a father and a family. I did the best I could for her. Clearly I should have done more.”
“What happened to her?”
“Elizabeth began on stage at age sixteen. She was greeted with ecstatic reviews. Her acting had a subtlety and power that far surpassed mine. I believe Elizabeth would have been one of the great actresses, even greater than dear Julia. Though I had originally disagreed with Elizabeth’s choice of career, I had great hopes for her. ”
Mrs. Florence sighed and slid the miniature back into the case.
“Soon after her seventeenth birthday, she met a man. An aristocrat. Handsome, intelligent, and cold-blooded. She loved him insanely, enough to throw away her career and everything of value in order to become his mistress. When she became pregnant, she was radiantly happy. I never knew what he thought of the situation, but it was clear that he had no intention of marrying her. One day…” She stopped, her mouth twisting as if she found it hard to speak.
“His lordship sent a servant to inform me that my daughter had died in childbirth.”
“And the baby?” Madeline asked after a long silence.
“I was informed that the baby didn’t survive either.”
“Who was—”
“I’d rather not speak of him, my dear. The man took my daughter’s life and caused me more pain than I ever thought I could feel. I never let his name fall from my lips.”
“I understand,” Madeline said, reaching out to pat Mrs. Florence’s hand gently. “I’m honored that you would share a little of your past with me, ma’am.”
The elderly woman smiled at her, folding her hands closely around the box.
“Are there other miniatures of Elizabeth?” Madeline asked.
“Yes…but I can’t bear to look at those, or to show them.”
“Of course.” Madeline regarded her curiously, sensing that there were more secrets about Elizabeth that Mrs. Florence had chosen not to reveal.
When Madeline returned to the Capital the next morning, it was to discover that Arlyss Barry had fallen prey to the illness that had affected so many others.
Her husband, who was also the head scene painter, had stayed home to take care of her.
The duchess was clearly concerned. “It takes a great deal to keep Arlyss from the theater,” she told Madeline.
“I want to visit her, but the duke has forbidden it. In fact, he’s threatening to keep me at home for the next few weeks, until the illness has run its course through the company. ”
“That sounds like a wise suggestion,” Madeline said. “Perhaps you should consider it, Your Grace.”
The duchess gave a frustrated sigh. “There’s too much to do…and soon I’ll be in confinement. I must stay here for as long as I can. In the meantime, both Arlyss and her understudy are ill. I wonder if you might consider taking the role during rehearsals until one of them is able to return?”
“Oh, Your Grace, I couldn’t…” Madeline shook her head. “I could never act. I have no talent and absolutely no desire.…”
“You don’t have to act. Just say the lines—you know them better than Arlyss herself—and move about the stage exactly as you’ve seen her do.
You needn’t be shy, Maddy. Everyone would understand you were temporarily taking Arlyss’s place to make rehearsals easier for the company. Won’t you consider it?”
“Mr. Scott won’t like it,” Madeline said awkwardly.
“You leave him to me. Above all else, Logan wants what is best for his theater.”
Madeline didn’t see Mr. Scott until the next morning.
To her discomfort, she had been told that the rehearsal would be conducted with the players in costume.
She was already self-conscious, assuming Arlyss’s place; it was even worse, having to wear the character’s gown, which was little more than translucent layers of blue and silver draped over her body.
Because her measurements were smaller than Miss Barry’s, the wide scooped neckline kept slipping down over her breasts, revealing far more than had been intended.