Kitty Little (28 page)

‘I am much better.’

‘I’m pleased to hear it.’

‘Well enough to know when my wife is making a fool of me.’

Charlotte felt her heart squeeze with a new fear. Surely he couldn’t know where she’d really been living, and with whom. Ever the consummate actress Charlotte allowed tears to form in her eyes as she took his hand and pressed it to her lips. ‘In what way, beloved, could I ever make a fool of a man as strong as you? If matters had not got into such a sorry state between us, nothing would have driven me from your side. You know how the memory of your dreadful accident still torments me.’ A tear fell upon his hand.

‘Then why has it taken you so long to return?’ He was softening, she was almost sure of it. Almost.

She lifted two pale and slender hands and fluttered them in a typically feminine gesture. ‘Oh, that was naughty, I admit. But I was having such
fun.
Met so many
lovely
people you wouldn’t
believe.
You won’t scold me too much, will you darling?’ She pronounced it dahling, with no sign of an accent, knowing he would approve of her improved diction. And the ploy seemed to be working for his lips were curving into a slight smile, and he was tilting up her chin with one finger.

‘You don’t change Lottie, I’ll say that for you, except to grow ever more beautiful.’

‘And you are still the same noble charmer who rushed me headlong into marriage.’

He hooked a hand about her neck and drew her towards him for a kiss, full and sensual, open mouthed and demanding. One large square hand drew up her skirt as she knelt before him, and slid his fingers between her legs, moving, exploring. To her appalled disbelief Charlotte found herself responding to his caresses, and when he finally released her she gazed at him out of dark, startled eyes.

Magnus regarded her with triumph.

‘That was simply to make it clear to you, Charlotte dear, that although I may not be a whole man, I am far more capable than you may imagine. What you choose to do now is of complete indifference to me. You can stay and be as good a wife to me as circumstances permit, or you can leave and suffer the consequences.

For an instant she could barely take in what he was saying to her, but there was no mistaking his meaning. Magnus was issuing her with an ultimatum, as always in control.

Charlotte simpered and smiled, assuring him that she would stay for as long as he needed her.

‘Stay or leave, the decision is yours.’
 

And if she left, he would not have her back. That much was all too clear in his tone. Hot fury hammered in her heart but she knew where to lay the blame for this predicament: with that interfering bitch of a nurse. Nevertheless, for now she must content herself with being as good a wife as her nature would allow. She must keep Magnus sweet, at least for a while. Otherwise, she might well lose everything she’d ever gained.

Chapter Sixteen

The advantages of Charlotte’s prolonged absence soon became all too apparent. Instead of the usual carping and squabbling, everyone was somehow far more relaxed; making jokes, laughing and teasing each other and getting through so much more work, and with far fewer interruptions.

Charlotte can stay away as long as she likes, Kitty thought. ‘She’s not nearly so indispensable as she imagines.’

As a rule, touring generally became easier during the summer months, when the LTP’s could often stay in one place for as much as a week, simply because people were willing to come out on lighter nights. This summer, however, was like no other. Everyone felt as if they were living on borrowed time.

Talk of plays and theatre often became lost in the rumblings of possible war in Europe.

While politicians talked long into the night, and Britain remained anxious to maintain the peace, there was increasing concern at the militarization of Germany. From Manchester or Delhi, Winnipeg or London, Sydney or Wellington, patriotic fervour brought young men joining up in their droves, all demanding to know how quickly they could get to the Front.

‘That’ll be the end for us, when it comes.’ Suzy mourned, but Kitty pooh-poohed the notion. ‘We’d just have to give audiences more fun to boost morale.’

She took to sticking “Business as usual” over their posters, and every night they’d be packed to the doors, just as if people wanted Fritz to know they weren’t afraid. Witty parodies became popular, and mawkishly sentimental songs as well as the rousingly patriotic, and the LTP’s went from strength to strength, with Esme gaining in confidence daily. Not only because she’d finally lost her fear of the stage but because she had Archie all to herself. His utter devotion, which he made no attempt to hide, surprised and delighted her.

Early afternoon was devoted to rehearsals but by three o’clock Kitty would call a halt and Archie would take Esme out to tea or for a walk, bringing her back in good time to bathe and change for the evening’s performance. On Sundays he’d take her on a lake steamer, for picnics on the shore, or long walks over Loughrigg Fell and they would lie in the sun and kiss, make love, and talk of anything and nothing at all, as lovers do.

They never spoke of the future, of how their lives may change if war came. Nor did they speak of Charlotte.

‘Let’s have fun,’ Archie would say, and Esme would vow not to ask for more than he was prepared to give.

Nevertheless as they became almost inseparable she began to nurture a hope that he might at last love her almost as much as she loved him. Everyone remarked upon their increasing closeness, and Mrs Pips, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since rejoining the Company in Hexham, a whole week after her inexplicable absence, seemed to go out of her way to assist the pair, finding them maps and boots for their hikes, putting them up splendid hampers of food to take with them on their trips in the old Jowett. She said not a word about where she’d been during that lost week, or what she’d been doing. Not even Esme could prise it out of her.

Kitty watched the love affair develop with mixed feelings. She was delighted for her dear friend yet her heart ached with longing, wishing she too could be blessed by such love. She had her lovely child, of course. Dixie was always with her. She would carry the baby on her hip everywhere, even during rehearsals. But how she longed to share this joy of parenthood with someone.

She was forced to acknowledge that perhaps she’d driven her company too hard over these past weeks. She agreed to keep Sundays free for surely they deserved a little relaxation during this blissfully hot summer, for all too soon harsh reality may hit them all. Yet there were few complaints, and most were already looking forward to the next season.

‘War or no war,’ Felicity would say.

‘It’ll all be over by Christmas, even if it comes at all,’ Suzy insisted while Tessa would worry about her low blood pressure if the excitement got too much.

‘Best foot forward and march in step,’ declared Jacob, who’d never seen military action once throughout his long and peaceful lifetime. Rod and Sam made no comment at all, but a fervour to be a part of the action was clear in their eyes, for everyone to see.

It was towards the end of July that Charlotte caught up with the Players again, returning to Repstone to find them enjoying a weekend break. She looked remarkably refreshed and bright eyed, more beautiful than ever, in startling contrast to the somewhat jaded appearance of the rest of the company.

‘My word you all look worn out,’ was her opening remark as she regarded them in a suitably languid pose; exquisite in black and white silk, a tightly sculpted hat framing the perfect oval of her face. Nobody attempted to deny it.
 

‘At least you are looking fully rested, Charlotte,’ Kitty said, kissing the air a good half inch from her cheek and trying to sound genuinely welcoming. The scent of Attar of Roses was almost overpowering in the small parlour. ‘Taking care of your sick mother wasn’t too onerous then?’ As Charlotte gave her a sharp look, Kitty merely lifted her eyebrows in polite enquiry and smiled.

‘I feel frightfully guilty at having let you all down,’ she said, hooking her arm lovingly into Archie’s and smiling graciously round at them all, eyes brimming with instantly manufactured tears. ‘Have you missed me darling? It can’t have been easy for you to manage without me, or for
dear
Esme to step into
my
shoes.’ She turned her winning smile upon the hapless Esme. ‘Archie tells me that at least one audience were baying for me to appear and poor Kitty had to go on with excuses.’

Felicity gave a bark of laughter. ‘Not a bit of it, old fruit. Esme stood in like the trouper she is and played a stormer every night. Developed into quite a little gem, has this gel.’

Twin spots of heightened colour appeared on Charlotte’s cheek as Esme quickly demurred. ‘It was nothing, really. I’m just an old ham.’
 

Esme was far more concerned by the fact that Archie seemed to have abandoned her in favour of Charlotte. As he hovered indecisively between the two of them, Charlotte clicked her fingers and he hastened over to fetch her wrap. It was a significant moment and a wave of nausea hit her, a presentiment of what was to come.

‘The audience doesn’t seem to think so,’ Jacob was smilingly reminding her. ‘What about when you played Ophelia, that was a brilliant performance. You had them cheering in the aisles. A standing ovation no less.’

With some amusement, Kitty watched Charlotte swivel her startled gaze back and forth from Esme to the various members of the company who were all eager to chip in with evidence of her accomplishments. It was made abundantly clear that not only had Esme valiantly held the fort in Charlotte’s absence but become a shining light at each and every performance, a star in her own right.

Kitty silently prayed that Esme wouldn’t have to pay too high a price for this show of solidarity. But Charlotte’s next remarks proved how easily she could discard such troubling concepts as professional rivalry.

‘You were evidently fortunate to play to audiences who were prepared to be generous, despite their disappointment at being palmed off with the understudy,’ she caustically remarked, with just the faintest hint of condescension in her tone. ‘But then with the threat of war, anything would amuse them, would it not? Now that I’m back, you are at last relieved of duty, Esme dear.’

‘I don’t think so, Charlotte,’ Kitty hastily put in. ‘Esme is already well into the part of Nora in
A Doll’s House
, and has made it her own, so she will continue until the current season is over. Perhaps you could help back stage for a while, until we start rehearsals for the Autumn production. Then we’ll see if there’s a part in it for you.’

‘Back stage?’ Judging from the thunderous expression on Charlotte’s face you would have thought Kitty had asked her to scrub floors in a workhouse. ‘I
refuse
to be ignored.’

‘I’m sure that would be impossible.’

As Charlotte swept away she resolutely had the last word. ‘Of course, it may all turn out for the best. I do have my dear mother to think of, so it is
exceedingly
useful to have such a
willing
understudy. Even one who is no more than second rate.’

Charlotte was in a towering rage. Never had she felt quite so angry in all her life. Esme was proving to be far too competent for words. She’d clearly ingratiated herself not only with the company but with the audience as well. Even Archie could too often be found hovering around the girl, either effusively praising her performance, checking that she’d taken sufficient rest or offering to fetch her a cup of tea. It had to stop.

And all because she’d been forced to stay away far too long waiting on a bully of a husband. It had proved well nigh impossible to break free of Magnus, for all his feigned indifference. She wouldn’t have stayed a moment longer than necessary, were it not for that prissy little nurse worming her way into his good books. Charlotte had soon come to the conclusion that if she didn’t take care, Sybil Mahon would be the next Mrs Gilpin. As if that wasn’t bad enough, it now looked as if she might have lost Archie too. It was essential she regain control, and quickly.

Yet it was becoming increasingly clear that time was running out. Either Archie must give up this nonsensical way of life and offer her the place in Society that she craved, or she’d be forced to write him off as a failed enterprise and return to Yorkshire and Magnus. An early resolution to the crisis was vital, particularly with the rumblings of war growing ever louder.

Kitty had even started to talk about entertaining the troops, and Charlotte certainly couldn’t see herself in a dugout, for God’s sake, entertaining Tommy Atkins.

Those first few days, following her return proved to be difficult, and she overlooked no opportunity to reassert what she considered to be her superior position in the company.

Charlotte made it clear that she considered it quite beneath her to work backstage. She refused absolutely to wear Esme’s dungarees, or risk getting her hands dirty, which would quite spoil her nails. She declined to lift scenery, or hoist the backcloth, repainted several times since it had been first used for the
Cinderella
ballroom scene. It currently depicted a Victorian garden for the final scene in Kitty’s latest home-grown offering,
Answering the Call to Arms,
yet another patriotic piece full of insipid sentimentality. And whenever Reg called upon Charlotte to check the stage for props before curtain-up, it was amazing how often she happened to be occupied elsewhere.