Daughter of Deceit (9 page)

“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.”

“I hope so, too.”

“Well, with two of us hoping, it must be. What are we going to do about it, Noelle?”

“I really don’t know.”

“You see … you and I … well …”

“Why … Noelle!”

I was startled … Lisa Fennell was coming towards us. I felt myself flushing. Her bright curious eyes were on Roderick.

I said: “Let me introduce you. This is Mr. Roderick Claverham, Mr. Charlie Claverham’s son.”

“Oh! How nice to meet you.”

“And this is Lisa Fennell. She is in the show …
Countess Maud . .
. you know.”

“I was taking the air,” she said. “Trying to get relaxed for the evening’s show. It’s a lovely day, isn’t it? I love the parks in London. May I sit down with you?”

“Please do,” said Roderick.

She took her place on the other side of him.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you at the house,” said Lisa.

“No,” replied Roderick. “I did come once. That was a little time ago.”

“I think it was before you joined us, Lisa,” I said.

“Has Noelle told you how I came?”

“Yes. She did mention it.”

“Wasn’t it wonderful? Like a fairy story. I was almost killed, you know.”

“The carriage wasn’t going very fast,” I said.

“And it all started from that. Desiree … the famous actress … has been so good to me.” Her voice shook a little. “She is the most wonderful person in the world.”

“Yes. I have heard that she is very kind.”

“Do you live in London?”

“My home is in the country, but we have a small house in London. It’s very useful for my father, who needs to be here quite often on business. It’s very convenient.”

“I’m
sure it must be. I love London. So ancient … and modern at the same time. What a combination! Don’t you think that is fascinating?”

Roderick said he did.

“Mr. Claverham has something very ancient in his own home,” I told Lisa. “They have found remains of a Roman settlement on the land.”

“How wonderful!” cried Lisa. She turned to Roderick. “Do tell me about it.”

I listened, vaguely thinking of what Roderick was saying when she interrupted us. It had seemed important. What a pity she had had to come along at that moment.

She was listening to him, urging him to tell her more—completely unaware that her intrusion had spoilt our tete-a-tete. Roderick was too polite to show the disappointment I felt sure he shared with me.

Eventually I said: “Well, I must go back.”

“And so must I,” echoed Lisa. “I had no idea it was so late.”

“Let’s go, then,” I said.

We went back to the house together. Roderick said goodbye and left us.

“What a charming young man!” said Lisa as we went in. Her eyes shone with pleasure. “Fancy Charlie’s having a son like that and keeping him hidden!”

My mother returned soon afterwards. She had had a rewarding session with the dressmaker and wanted to tell me about it. She was changing the blue dress in the first act to one of deep mauve and the one in the last act was to be red.

“Those colours stand out more. Besides, it will give the show a new look. And it will be good for us all. We’re getting a bit rusty. What do you think? I called on Janet Dare. Poor dear! She’s going out of her wits. She is just longing to be back. If it has anything to do with her, she won’t be off much longer.”

I thought I should tell my mother that I had met Roderick. Lisa might mention that she had seen him and it would appear strange that I had not talked of it.

When we were alone I said, trying to appear casual: “By the
way, do you remember Roderick Claverham … Charlie’s son? He came here once.”

“Oh yes, of course. What a nice young man!”

“I’ve seen him … once or twice. I happened to run into him.”

“Did you? How interesting.”

“As a matter of fact, I was with him today. Lisa was with us.”

“Oh, Lisa … I was just thinking of her … having been with Janet Dare of course. She is so thrilled to have that job in the chorus … and the understudy.”

“She’s eternally grateful to you. After all, you fixed it for her, didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t have done anything if she hadn’t had the talent.”

“She tries to be exactly like you.”

“She’s thinking of playing Countess Maud, that’s why. God forbid, she might have to one day. My goodness, her nose is going to be put a little out of joint when Janet comes back. The poor child fancies herself as understudy.”

I was thinking I need not have any qualms about seeing Roderick. My mother was not greatly interested, nor was she in the least perturbed about her relationship with Charlie.

A few days later Jane came to my room and told me that my mother wanted to see me and would I go to her at once.

“Is anything wrong, Jane?” I asked.

“She don’t look too well, Miss Noelle.”

I hurried to her room, and was immediately filled with alarm. She looked most unlike her usual self.

“I’ve been so ill,” she said. “It could have been the fish I had last night. But it was immediately after lunch that it started. I feel dizzy as well as sick.”

“Why don’t you lie down?”

“I’ve been lying down. What’s so awful is that I don’t think I can go on tonight.”

“You certainly can’t if you are like you are now. I think I ought to call Dr. Green.”

“Oh no. That’s not necessary. It’s just something I’ve eaten. It will pass in time. I think you’d better get a message to Dolly, though … just in case it’s necessary … which it may not be … but we must be prepared.”

“Thomas can go right away,” I said.

In half an hour Dolly was at the house in a state of great agitation.

“What’s happened? Eaten something? Oh, Almighty God, what have I done to deserve this?”

“I should cut out the dramatics, Dolly. It’s not the time for them. If I can’t go on tonight we’ve got to do the obvious … and we ought to be busy with it right away … just in case it’s necessary … which it may not be, but we have to be ready. Lisa will have to take my place.”

“That amateur!”

“She’s not an amateur. She’s not bad, actually. You yourself have said so, though it was like getting blood out of a stone to make you admit it.”

“You talk as though this is of no importance. Let me tell you, it’s a disaster … a calamity. I’ve got to placate all those people who have paid to see Desiree, not some little amateur from the country.”

“Anyone would think it was the first time you’d had to put in an understudy. It’s nothing. Shut off the histrionics and bring out the common sense. You’ve got to get busy, Dolly. Of course, I might be all right. There are a few hours to go. But at the moment …”

“Is that girl here?” asked Dolly.

“Yes,” I told him. “Shall I tell her to come down?”

“Right away.”

I went to Lisa’s room. She looked up expectantly.

“My mother’s not well,” I said. “She’s been terribly sick and she’s giddy. Dolly’s here. She thinks she might not be able to go on tonight.”

She stared at me. She was trying to hide the elation, but I could see it there. Naturally it would be. I understood.

“Is she … very bad?”

“No. It’s only a bilious attack. She’s lying down. She feels dizzy when she stands up. I can’t believe she’ll be fit to go on tonight. You’re to come down at once. Dolly’s pacing up and down like an animal in a cage, and my mother is trying to soothe him.”

“He’ll be furious.”

“Well, you know Dolly.”

“He won’t trust me to do it.”

“He must,” I answered her. “He wouldn’t have given you the job in the first place if he didn’t believe you could do it in an emergency.”

“And your poor mother. How awful!”

“I don’t think it is anything much. She says she’s probably eaten something which did not agree with her. You’d better hurry. The longer you keep Dolly waiting, the more incensed he’ll be.”

She hurried down and I went to my room.

This could be Lisa’s chance. It was only natural that that thought should be uppermost in her mind.

My mother was feeling a little better but not well enough to go on that night. I wanted to stay with her but she said I ought to go to the theatre to cheer Lisa on.

“Poor girl. I know what she is going through. She’s got strong nerves, though. I will say that for her. And she’ll need them tonight.”

“She’s very earnest about it all.”

“Quite right. You need earnestness, and all you’ve got, to succeed in this profession, I can assure you. She shouldn’t be too confident, though, and I don’t think she is. She’s got to have that awful feeling that she’s going to lose her top notes and fall flat on her face instead of into her bridegroom’s arms. It’s got to be a mixture of fear and confidence … and that’s not easy to come by. Don’t I know it! But this is a chance for her. If she does well, she’ll be in Dolly’s good books. If she fails … it could be the chorus for the rest of her life. Let’s wish her well. She knows the songs, she knows the dances. The tricky bit is that twist at the end of the first act. Once or twice I’ve nearly bungled it.”

So I
went to the theatre and I sat, trembling for her.

The curtain was about to go up. I surveyed the audience from the box I was sharing with Robert Bouchere. Just for those few minutes we were the only ones in the audience who knew what was to come.

Dolly lifted the curtain and stood before us.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is with great regret that I have to tell you that Desiree is indisposed and cannot be with you tonight.”

There was a gasp which rippled through the stalls, to the upper circle and gallery. I looked about me apprehensively. These people had paid to see Desiree.

“I have been in Desiree’s company just before coming to the theatre,” went on Dolly. “She is desolate because she has to disappoint you. She begged me to ask you to forgive her and she particularly asks you, her dear public, to give Lisa Fennell a chance to show you what she can do. Desiree has absolute faith in Lisa and I am sure that, after tonight’s performance, you will share that faith. I know how you all love Desiree, but you would not want her here when she should be in bed. She sends her love to you all. She is missing you as you are missing her. But she fervently knows that you will give Lisa a chance and that you will not be disappointed.”

The curtain was up. The opening chorus had begun and there was Lisa giving a fair imitation of Desiree in “Can I help you, madam?”

It was a good performance. I followed her every movement, watching for pitfalls, like the twirl at the end of the first act. The audience applauded. Some of them must have realized what an ordeal the poor girl was going through, and they had set aside their disappointment in not seeing Desiree and were giving encouragement to the beginner.

I said to Robert: “It’s going to be all right, isn’t it?”

“She is so like …” he said. “She copy, yes? It is like seeing a shadow of Desiree, you understand?”

“I see what you mean,” I replied. “But I think the audience is not displeased.”

“Oh no, no. But they do not forget they pay to see Desiree. It is a pity for Lisa that it is Desiree she must follow. If it were some
other … someone not so … how shall we say? … so much herself … so distinguished … it would be better. She is good, this girl, but she is not Desiree.”

I saw what he meant. She had modelled herself too closely on Desiree, submerging her own personality into achieving it. If she had tried to present herself and not a pale shadow of Desiree she would have made more impact. As it was, she was Desiree without that inimitable charm, that overpowering charisma.

I drove home in the carriage with Martha and Lisa. Lisa was exhausted yet elated.

The audience had applauded loudly at the end and someone in the stalls shouted: “Well done!”

“The press was there,” said Lisa. “Oh, I wonder what they will say.”

I felt protective towards her. I thought she was attaching too much importance to this. There might be a few lines in the press, but there would be more interest in Desiree’s indisposition than in Lisa’s interpretation of Countess Maud.

Lisa evidently believed that stepping into the breach and hearing someone in the stalls saying “Well done!” was going to shake the theatrical world.