Виктория Холт - Daughter of Deceit

“It could be better. Don’t you think so, Noelle?”

I hadn’t noticed the girls were having difficulty in stretching, but I had to agree with my mother.

“Yes,” I said. “They could do with one more girl.”

“I’ll speak to Dolly,” said my mother.

“He’ll go mad,” retorted Martha.

When she spoke to Dolly, I was present. She said: “I don’t want Martha there. She’ll side with him. But you be there, Noelle. He’s got a soft spot for you and a respect for youth. He won’t fly off the handle so profanely if you’re there.”

So I was present.

“Dolly,” she said. “I think the chorus line is a little too thin.”

“Thin?” cried Dolly.

“I fancy it is.”

“As long as it’s only one of your fancies.”

“There’s this girl,” she went on. “She’s good. It would be a wonderful start for her and it was my carriage. I thought, if we could squeeze her into the chorus it would be a good turn for me and just what she needs.”

“I’m not in this business to squeeze people into the chorus just because they run under your horse’s feet.”

“This is a poor girl, Dolly. Do listen.”

“Not if you’re going to talk about squeezing one of your protegees into my chorus.”

“Your chorus! Who made the show what it is? / did.”

“With a little help from me and some others. Actors and actresses always have inflated ideas of their importance.”

“Dolly, you’re not such a fool as you like me to think. We could do with another girl in the chorus. You know we could.”

“No,” said Dolly firmly.

“Dolly, I’m asking you.”

“I’m fully aware of that. You get these crackpot ideas about helping people who come along to you with a mournful tale. It’s just like you. It’s not the first time. Give this girl a job and you’ll have thousands tracking to your door. You’ll have them under your carriage wheels by the thousand. We’ll have a stage full of chorus girls. There won’t be any room for the principals.”

“Dolly, I am only asking for one.”

“Look here. I’ve just about had enough of your charities. Have them, if you must, but keep them out of my business.”

“I hate you, Dolly, sometimes. You’re so smug. Can’t you see you’re upsetting me? You’re going to spoil my performance tonight.”

Dolly struck one of his theatrical poses, pressing his hand to his forehead, his face set in lines of despair.

“What I suffer, Almighty God, who has seen fit to punish me. What have I done to suffer this woman? How can I endure this torment? She is determined to ruin me. She plans my destruction. She wants to ruin the play to which I have given all I possess. She wants to fill my stage with hundreds of simpering idiotic chorus girls.”

“Shut up!” said my mother. “Who said anything about hundreds? I keep telling you, it is only one. And if you are ruined, Mr. Dollington, it will be by your own hand. Now you are making me ill … too ill to go on tonight. You’ll have to use Janet Dare. See how the audience likes that. She won’t mind playing with a chorus that’s miserably thin because Mr. Dollington, who fancies himself as Garrick and Kean all rolled in one, is afraid of spending a few more pence on a show others are working themselves into the grave to keep going. Come on, Noelle, I need you to put one of those eau de cologne presses on my forehead. I can feel a splitting headache coming on.”

She had taken my hand and started towards the door.

Dolly said: “All right. I don’t promise anything, mind, but I’ll have a look at the girl.”

My mother was all smiles. The headache had evaporated.

“Dolly darling,” she said. “I knew you would.”

The result was that Lisa Fennell sang for Dolly while George Garland, my mother’s pianist, accompanied her on the piano. I was there with Martha.

“It’s good to have an audience,” my mother had said.

Lisa sang “Can I help you, madam?” and it was a good imitation of my mother.

Dolly grunted and asked her to go through one of the dances, which she did.

Dolly grunted again, but he would not give a verdict immediately.

“Just saving face,” my mother whispered to me. “Well, let him. It’s going to be all right.”

Later that day Dolly sent word that Lisa Fennell could start in the chorus the following Monday. He wanted her to get a little practice in dancing in the meantime.

Lisa was in a state of bliss.

“I can’t believe it. I really can’t,” she kept saying. “To think that I am in a show with the great Desiree.”

She was not more delighted than my mother, who said: “I know you are going to succeed. You’ve got the urge. That’s what it takes.”

“And to think that if I had not been run over and nearly killed …”

“That’s life, dear,” said my mother. “Something awful happens and it turns out to be good in the end.”

Lisa settled into the chorus and it was clear that she adored my mother.

I said: “She imitates your voice … she walks as you walk, with that special swing. You’re her model … her ideal.”

“She’s stagestruck, that’s all. I’m there and she’s making her way up.”

“She’s so grateful to you. You’ve given her her chance.”

“Well, they won’t be able to say she is inexperienced after this.”

Lisa said to me one day: “I’ve been looking at lodgings. I want to get somewhere near the theatre. It’s hopeless otherwise. Everything’s so terribly expensive. But I suppose I can just about manage. Your mother has been wonderful. I feel I just can’t encroach on her hospitality anymore.”

I told my mother what she had said.

“I expect she wants her independence. People like places of their own. Dolly’s a bit of an old skinflint. He says he can’t pay fancy salaries to chorus girls. If they don’t like what they get they can always go elsewhere.”

“She did say something about lodgings being expensive.”

“She’s no trouble here, is she?”

“I don’t think so. She’s quiet and helpful and gets on well with them all.”

“Well, sound her. Tell her she can stay if she likes. There’s that room at the top … if she has any qualms. That’s never used and she could be on her own up there.”

When I told her, I saw the joy in her face.

“It’s not only having to take something I couldn’t really afford, it’s being here … near your mother … right at the heart of things …”

“My mother said you could be on your own up there.”

“I don’t know what to say. No one has ever been so good to me before. Desiree is an angel.”

“She’s a wonderful person. I believe many people have discovered that.”

When she thanked Desiree, she was told: “You’ll find a way of paying me back if you want to. Not that I want paying. I tell you, dear, it’s as much pleasure for me as it is to you to see you doing the work you’re set on. You’ll get on and I’ll be the first to congratulate you.”

“And to know that but for you it could never have happened.”

“Oh, there are always ways, dear.”

We slipped into a routine. I did not see so much of Lisa Fennell. I think she was afraid of intruding. She had the big attic room, the ceiling of which sloped on either side; and there she lived in quiet contentment. She used to sing songs from Countess Maud and often I thought it was my mother singing.

It was three months since the first night of Countess Maud, and the audiences were still flocking to see it. Some people came more than once. That was a sign of success.

Lisa used to come home from the theatre with my mother and Martha. I did not think Martha was very pleased with the arrangement. She was very possessive towards my mother and I was sure that she resented her interest in Lisa.

Lisa was aware of this and tried hard not to offend. In fact, it seemed to me that Lisa was aware of a good deal and was treading warily, terrified of alienating anyone.

I mentioned this to my mother and she said: “Yes, it’s possible. The poor girl is very anxious to hold her job. She doesn’t want to upset anyone. I know exactly how she feels. We must try to make things easy for her.”

Then something happened which was significant. Janet Dare had an accident. She had gone shopping in Regent Street one afternoon, had slipped on the pavement and broken her leg in two places. It was going to be a long time before Janet was back at work.

Janet was in the chorus as well as being understudy, and the chorus line would now be as it was before Lisa came. They could get by with those, but an understudy, although fortunately rarely needed, was a necessity.

I could see the dreams in Lisa’s eyes.

She approached my mother first. “I know the songs. I know the dances … and I’ve watched every one of your performances.”

“I know,” said my mother. “You’d be right for the job. I can’t answer for Dolly. If I suggest you, he’s bound to raise objections.”

“But I do know it so well. I’d practice … I’d rehearse …”

“I know, dear. You are the one for it. Leave it to me. I’ll see what I can do.”

Dolly was surprisingly acquiescent. I think he must have realized that Lisa Fennell was the best choice. She had modelled herself on my mother. She knew the songs.

He raised no objections and it was settled.

Lisa Fennell, in addition to her role in the chorus, was to understudy Desiree.

I had seen Roderick Claverham on one or two occasions. The meetings were never planned. They took place on matinee days.

I would stroll out shortly after my mother had left and he would be waiting for me in the street. There was always an element of excitement because I would be wondering whether he would be there.

I was almost sure that he would be all the same.

I think we liked it that way because both of us had a feeling that the meetings should be something of a secret, in view of the relationship between our parents.

However, I enjoyed the meetings very much. We walked a good deal: we had tea in our little tea shop, and then he took me to the theatre, where I would join my mother, and we would come home in the carriage with Martha and Lisa.

We sometimes walked down Piccadilly to Green Park. There we would sit and watch people as they strolled by, and the children feeding the ducks.

I had learned a certain amount about his home—enough to give me a fairly clear picture of it. I heard about the interesting people who had visited Leverson Manor since the discovery of the Roman remains. And, of course, I talked about myself.

I knew this was an intermediary period. We could not go on meeting like this. In a way it seemed almost furtive, for I said nothing to my mother of our acquaintance, which was extremely odd, for up to this time I had always been completely open with her. And I guessed he had said nothing to his father.

I was right when I told myself that it could not last like that. I wanted him to come and meet my mother; he wanted me to visit his home in Kent. I had a longing to do so, and a burning curiosity to see Lady Constance even more than the Roman remains.

It was Tuesday and my mother was spending the afternoon with her dressmaker. She wanted some new clothes for the show. She thought it needed brightening up a little.

I had told Roderick that I should be free on that particular day and he had immediately said we must meet.

We made our way to Green Park and as we were sitting there Roderick suddenly said: “What are we going to do, Noelle?”

“Do?”

“I mean … how much longer are we going on meeting like this? You haven’t told your mother, have you? I haven’t mentioned our meetings to my father. It seems odd. Why do we do it?”

“I think we both feel it might be a little embarrassing for them.”

“Yes. I think it would be for my father.”

“I suppose my mother is not so easily embarrassed. She would think it was quite normal. I really don’t know what to say about it.”

“Well, we have avoided mentioning it. It’s absurd really. It is not our affair.”

“It is just that your mother knows nothing about this … friendship between your father and my mother, and if she did, of course, she would not approve.”

“I am sure she would not, and my father would not wish her to know.”

“And because of that, you and I are caught up in this secrecy.”

“I should like to call openly at your house. I want you to visit Leverson. After all, we are very good friends. At least I hope we are.”