Chapter Two
The audience was on the stage. There were some four dozen of them, some sitting on folding chairs, some standing, but all appearing to be very much at ease.
Because they all were performers of one sort or another, and they were, however anxious to hear what the man before them was saying, on a stage, after all.
There was no one in the darkened audience to see them, only some few who’d come along to the theater with them waiting and watching from backstage.
But since they were performers, that was enough to keep them on their toes.
That, and the presence of each other, of course.
And certainly, and most of all, the presence of the dark, thin young man who was addressing them.
“You’ve all been called back today,” he repeated in his rich, velvety voice, “but sad to say, we’ve not reached a final decision as yet.
However, fear not!” he said, raising one long, thin hand to quiet the mutterings that had begun.
“We do not waste your valuable time. We shall come to that decision later this very day. Our final say is not so important as yours, because in this case, you see, my dear friends, it is your decision we must have first.”
He seemed to approve the murmurings and looks of surprise and confusion the assembled company exchanged with one another, because he let them go on for a while until he stopped them by saying, “Yes. That is so. There are some things about this booking you must know before we take a step further together. Please!” he said imperiously, with nothing of pleading in his voice as some suspicious mumblings began. “Allow me to explain.”
He stood before them, saying nothing, until they were shamed into silence.
He was a slender young man of middle height, dressed all in black, lean to the point of emaciation, or else it was just that his white face and pompadour of thick jet hair emphasized the starved planes of his aesthetic face.
It was entirely an actor’s countenance. Because the mobile mouth and flexible brows all acted in concert with the bold, dark eyes and constantly moving body to bolster every word he spoke in his fluctuant, mellifluous voice.
A few inches taller and he’d be a matinee idol, some present thought.
But then, as he drew himself up and cast them a scornful glance because he’d not gotten the complete silence he’d demanded, they saw their eyes had deceived them—he might already be that few inches taller, and he’d be a better villain because there was so much cruelty in those hard ebony eyes.
But when he smiled upon them for their cooperation at last, they realized that they were wrong again, because such great compassion and sympathy was radiating from his gentle smile and limpid, soulful eyes.
By the time he spoke again, some had already perceived that he might be anything he wished to be, because although he said he was a producer and director, he might also be perhaps the greatest actor of them all.
“You will note that each one of you has a replica present—or at least, a passable one,” he said on a chuckle.
At that, a little cherub of a girl with fat yellow sausage curls shot a look of purest spite at another child at the end of her row of chairs, this one with a headful of midnight ringlets.
A deep-bosomed blond woman narrowed her eyes at a similarly voluptuous dark-haired one nearby to her, and a handsome young gentleman regarded an even handsomer one with more than the usual loathing that competing actors ordinarily display.
“Yes,” the dark young man agreed. “You are rivals. Semifinalists. We’ve not made a final decision because it may not be necessary.
Some of you may fail the final audition, but alas!
some of you may not have the will to succeed even before that.
Because this is no ordinary play we’re casting for.
No, this is a tour, and a tour is not like a run anywhere in this great city,” Kyle Harper said in such sudden, booming tones, he startled his audience into disregarding each other and giving him complete attention again.
“Not only does it mean a guaranteed three months’ work, room, and board,” he said as the first disappointed mutterings of “tour” was heard, and then suddenly stilled at the sound of that heart-stoppingly wondrous offer, “but it’s a unique experience.
Some of you know this, but others have never gone on the road.
I heard someone sneer, ‘tour,’ ” he said, as everyone in his audience cringed, or tried to look innocent or unconcerned, or looked away from his murderously scathing glance altogether.
“But mark you, the ‘tour,’ ” he sneered wonderfully, “is not the humble undertaking it once was.”
“Then why didn’t you advertise it as such in the casting call?
” a bold gentleman from the back row called out, echoing the unspoken question so many of them had.
And then was sorry he had, for bold as he’d been, Kyle Harper’s eye was bolder, and far back as he was, it was not far enough away to escape that withering glance.
“Because, my dear sir,” Kyle said with aplomb, “I am not a fool, and know the reputation of the very word ‘tour.’ And I wanted no second-raters applying for my company. If you are such, please feel free to leave. Ah, but,” he said as the theater remained still as a churchyard, “were you such, you wouldn’t be here now, would you? ”
He chuckled and they all felt enormously relieved.
“No,” he went on, “no, the touring company is no longer a pathetic cluster of cannots who slink from the cities to perform before chickens and hogs. No, because America is growing. I grant you it is difficult to believe, but only a small part of it is here in New York City,” he said on an engaging, conspiratorial smile.
“And so, I—we—will be bringing theater to America—the newest, richest…”— he paused as if he found the word as delicious as they all did—” yes, richest, Americans—those in the golden West. The mine owners and ranchers, the cattlemen and railroad czars.
The Silver Circuit has had the stage to itself out there too long, my friends.
Those who join us will also be performing upon the stages of those beautiful new opera houses that have been built in the West—those magnificent new citadels of culture—in such boomtowns as Denver, Leadville, and Aspen, and then will return with me in triumph to begin the new decade in New York!
Because those who join us will be members of the new ‘Golden Circuit’! ” he cried.
He waited until the echoes of his voice had died away. And then spoke into that profound silence.
“Those who come with us will make their names and their fortunes,” he said with such quiet conviction that even those who doubted it did not doubt him.
“If…” he said, and paused to smile in a most unpleasant way, “if they’re professionals.
Which means in more than their skills. Which means they accept that traveling is not always easy, but that they must perform every day anyway.
The show must go on, especially on the road.
When we hand out our bills, the audience comes at great expense to themselves, and they don’t like to be disappointed.
If they are, I am. And if I am, I promise you, you shall be.
For we shall be our own self-contained kingdom, bringing our own sets, stagehands, cast, and crew to create our own wondrous world wherever we go.
And since we shall be far from home, I’ll be in the position of being the king of that magic land: I will be your father, your confessor, and your helpmeet.
A kind, loving, compassionate one. If you choose to come with me. If I choose you to come with me.”
He could have raised them as an army then, and they would have marched off to war against anyone he pointed at, the young woman watching from the wings thought with sincere admiration.
She came from an acting family, and had seen Booth doing Brutus from her cradle, but seldom had seen such a performance.
She darted a quick glance to her pupil, Lottie Lesley.
Yes, Lottie was watching Kyle Harper as if she were playing Lady Ursula, and he, the lead, in The Mesmerist. Well good, Hannah thought, then Lottie would do her best and she might get the job, and then she’d finally be able to pay what she owed.
Which meant, Hannah thought with rising delight, that she herself might at last be able to have a dinner that her landlady hadn’t half cooked.
She was doing sums in her head, thinking of the debts she could pay off if her star pupil finally did pay her accounts in full, when a dissident voice pierced the stillness, and shattered the mood.
“Well, we should never have come if we’d known it was a tour,” the great-bosomed lady in black bombazine cried.
“New York is the stage, elsewhere a mere waste of time, and we did not come here to waste our time. Come, Isa!” And rising from her chair like leviathan from the waves, she gripped her umbrella in one hand and her cherubic little blond girl in the other, and marched from the stage, her heels pounding like drumbeats as she departed.
The blond child looked back as she was propelled forward, and so saw Kyle Harper’s smile.
It might well scar her for life, Hannah thought with unease.
If it didn’t, then his comment certainly would.
“Possibly, madam,” he called to her retreating back, “because you haven’t the time to waste.
Puberty awaits you in the wings. Infant prodigies ought to be within calling distance of childhood,” he added in a not very confidential aside to the others.
“Dear Isa may be playing Little Lord Fauntleroy today, but I’d wager she’ll be ready to stand-in for Lillian Russell by next week. ”