Tell Me, Pretty Maiden (8 page)

TWELVE

Martha admitted me to Blanche’s dressing room.

“She’s expecting you,” she cackled in that scratchy witch voice of hers, staring at me with those strange, hooded, birdlike eyes. “Give me your cloak. I’ll hang it up for you.” I complied although I could have easily hung the garment on the hook myself.

“I gather she’s downstairs meeting with the producer and some other men,” I said. “I thought it wiser to come up here.”

“Definitely. She doesn’t like to be caught out. Not Miss Lovejoy. Even as a little child she hated to be caught out and then find herself at a disadvantage. Always did like to be holding the reins and in the driver’s seat. A headstrong child, that’s sure enough.”

“And you were her nurse, so she tells me,” I said.

“I was. I raised her from infancy onward. And I cherished her, too. It broke my heart when she ran away from home like that. I worried about her more than they did, I think. And it was the happiest day of my life when she came to find me again.” When she smiled, she looked just old and kind. But the smile quickly faded. “Of course I didn’t approve of what she had become. Taking her clothes off in front of men—and those songs. I couldn’t blame her family for disowning her. But I stuck by her, and now, as you see, she’s as respectable as a lady can be in her profession.”

“How long have you been with her then?”

“Well, it must be at least twenty years since she found me in Massachusetts and brought me down to New York to be her dresser.”

Which made Miss Lovejoy close to forty. This show must have been a last attempt to play the romantic lead and obviously it was vitally important to her that she succeed in it.

“So tell me, Martha,” I began cautiously, “do you have any thoughts yourself about this ghost? You don’t believe in ghosts, do you?”

“I wouldn’t say yes or no to that,” she said, again nodding in birdlike fashion. “I’ve not come face-to-face with a ghost personally in my life, but I’ve met some people who would swear that they have. And all I can tell you is that Miss Lovejoy is very nervous. It’s got her good and rattled, I can tell you—and she’s come through a lot, my darling Blanchie has. It takes a lot to get her rattled.”

As she was finishing this speech I heard the sound of footsteps coming toward us along the passage and suddenly the door burst open. Blanche Lovejoy came in, looking as out of breath as I had been a few minutes earlier.

“Any sign of her yet, Martha?” she demanded, then saw me. “Oh, there you are, Miss Murphy. I was wondering if you’d changed your mind and weren’t going to show up.”

“Not at all,” I said.

“I was expecting you to come through to the stalls so that I could introduce you to Robert and Desmond.”

“Henry said you were having a meeting, but I didn’t know whether you’d welcome my presence,” I said. “I thought you might find me awkward to explain, so I came up here to wait.”

“Ah, well, can’t be helped,” she said. “I’ll just have to make a general introduction at the cast meeting. But I’ve warned the boys that you’ll be joining us.”

“You’ve decided how to explain my sudden appearance then?”

“Brilliant, my dear.” She gave me her most dazzling smile. “I had the most brilliant idea. I’m slipping you into the cast because I owe Oona Sheehan a favor and you are her cousin, just arrived from Ireland and seeking a theatrical career. Isn’t that perfect?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” I said.

“Of course, I’ll drop Oona a note, just in case anyone asks her,” she went on, pacing the room like a caged tiger and waving her arms as she spoke, “and I’ve even found a good way to have you onstage most of the time—and get us an extra laugh as well. Guess what, Molly—I’m going to make you a bluestocking. We’ll find you an ugly wig with pigtails and give you glasses, and you’ll be the pupil who never joins in the fun. In every scene where the girls are onstage, you’ll stand in a corner with your nose in a book. You can even wander across the stage with your nose in a book during scenes in which the girls aren’t present. And I’m going to add lines. When I dismiss all the girls, you’ll stay where you are until I say, “Come along, Josephine,” and you’ll look up with exaggerated surprise and follow the rest of them. After the first time that should get us an extra laugh, don’t you think?”

I smiled and nodded, although the reality of being onstage, in the spotlight in front of hundreds of people, was just dawning on me and making my stomach clench into knots. I could never admit to being shy, but I’ve never appeared in public either. I had no idea what it might feel like to be expected to perform.

“But isn’t it to die for?” she continued, still pacing. “Sometimes I surprise myself with my own brilliance, don’t I, Martha?”

“You do indeed, my angel,” Martha replied, although I couldn’t tell whether sarcasm was involved. It was impossible to know what she was thinking or feeling.

“It’s a perfect little setup,” Blanche went on, undaunted. “You’ll be onstage with nothing to do but pretend to read, and you’ll have all the time in the world to observe. If there’s a scene in which your presence on stage would be quite wrong—the love scenes between me and Arthur, for example—then you can wait in the wings, with your nose still in the book. They’ll all know that you are my new protégée so they won’t dare to move you.”

She paused and looked at me, her eyes sparkling triumphantly. “So what do you say, Molly? We’ll show them I’m not going out of my head, won’t we? We’ll catch that ghost.”

“I’ll give it my best shot, Miss Lovejoy,” I said with what I hoped was enthusiasm.

“Right. Let’s get to work.” Blanche pulled out a script. “We’ve just got time to go through it once together. You’ll have to muddle through as best you can at tonight’s dress rehearsal, but take it home and study it so you’ve got your moves down pat before tomorrow. I’ve written you into the scenes and I’ve marked your position on the stage. Remember, in a play nothing is random. Every move is in the master script and the spot you stand in never varies by an inch. Since you are supposed to have your nose in a book all the time, I suggest that the book is this one. That way you’ll know what comes next.”

She opened the first page and started going through it at a great rate. “So the first scene in the garden, the girls will be playing tennis and you’ll be standing against the back wall. For heaven’s sake, don’t lean on it or it will fall down. You’ll be here, next to the rosebush. Then when the girls rush off to tell me the news, you’ll look up from your book, realize they have gone, and hurry after them, exiting stage left.”

She continued to bark out instructions until I was hopelessly confused. I was feeling inadequate and worried that I’d make a mess of things until I realized that I was the one doing a favor here. If she wanted me to be onstage to protect her, then she’d have to forgive a few errors. Another thought struck me.

“It’s a dress rehearsal. What am I supposed to wear?”

Blanche glanced at Martha. “You’ll need a costume,” she said as if this might not have occurred to her before. “I don’t know if we’ve anything suitable in wardrobe so we may have to improvise for tonight’s dress rehearsal and probably tomorrow night’s, too. It’s supposed to be summertime in the play. Do you have anything like that garment you are wearing, equally dowdy, but lighter weight?”

I realized then that Blanche wasn’t all sweetness and light, but I ignored the insult. I suppose my business suit could be described as dowdy.

“I have a plain muslin,” I said, but she shook her head.

“No, these are good class girls. I don’t think muslin would do, do you, Martha?”

“I’m sure Madame Eva will be able to make something for her in a hurry if you asked nicely,” Martha said. “She’s supposed to be a schoolgirl, isn’t she? So what she needs is a schoolgirl outfit. Checked gingham or black with a white bow or white with a black bow at her neck. Something plain but wholesome.”

“Right, as always.” Blanche nodded with satisfaction. “Come on then. If we hurry we can make it to wardrobe before the meeting.”

I was whisked along the hall, up yet another flight of steps, and into a room that was positively cluttered with racks of costumes, bolts of fabric, boxes of wigs—and half buried under all this a table containing a sewing machine, and sitting at the table a hunched old woman dressed head to toe in black. She looked even more witchlike than Martha. She had similar sharp features and her skin looked horribly sallow in the dim light. I don’t know how she managed to sew in there and how she didn’t go blind doing it. She glanced up, frowning, as we came in.

“It’s all right, you don’t have to make a fuss,” she said in heavily accented English. “I said they’d all be ready by five and they are all ready. See—the last of the tennis outfits, all hanging and ready for the girls to pick up.”

“You’re a miracle worker, Eva,” Blanche said, and produced her beaming smile. “And I’m glad you’re done because I have one teeny little extra job for you to do.”

Eva’s scowl turned to me. “Who’s she? I haven’t seen this one before.”

“She’s new. She’s going to be joining us. We felt the chorus needed comic relief so she’s going to be the studious girl who never joins in. Could you whip up something plain and unflattering for her?”

“Could I whip up?” Eva demanded, waving her arms dramatically. “What you think I have, a magic wand here? Where is this plain and unflattering fabric, huh?”

“Not for tonight, silly. Of course not for tonight. But before opening night. That’s all I ask. Four more days. And she’ll need a wig. That red hair is so un-French. I thought black, plain, two pigtails.”

“And how should this ugly dress look?” Eva demanded.

“What do you think? Plain black with a white bow?”

“She’ll look like she’s going to a funeral,” Eva muttered.

“All right. Plain white with a black bow. Schoolgirlish. Young.”

“I’ll take her measurements and see what I can do,” Eva said.

“Oh, and spectacles,” Blanche added. “And black boots.”

“Anything more?” Eva asked. “You want me to make her a ball gown, in case you change your mind and this girl turns into a princess in the middle of the play?”

Blanche leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be forever in your debt, Eva dearest. Stay with her, Molly, and let her take your measurements, then come down to the stage when you hear the bell.”

I nodded, noticing that she had called me Molly. I had thought we had decided on an alias, but I suppose nobody was likely to recognize me, especially under the black wig, glasses, and ugly dress. But I couldn’t say anything in front of Madame Eva.

“So what do you want me to wear tonight?” I asked before Blanche could disappear.

Blanche glanced at Eva. “You couldn’t find her a plain skirt and shirtwaist?”

Eva shook her head. “I’m not running a department store here. I don’t keep clothing on spec.”

“Then it will have to be your own clothes, Molly. I must dash.” And she was gone. Eva took my measurements, tut-tutting in horror that I wasn’t wearing a corset and had such a large waist.

“What man you think you get with a waist like that?” she demanded. “You should see Miss Lovejoy’s waist. A man can encircle her waist with his hands, even at her age.”

A distant bell summoned us to the stage. I heard the sound of feet tramping from all over the theater and joined the growing crowd as we hurried down the stairs. I got more than one inquisitive stare as we made our way to the stage. Most of the cast took up positions sitting cross-legged on the floor while Blanche and the men I had seen in the stalls the day before sat on the sofa and chairs that were part of the set. I slid to the floor at the back of the crowd.

The director, Mr. Barker, the one she had called Robert, gave a speech about all their hard work coming to fruition. The choreographer, Desmond Haynes, the slim dark-haired man who had been watching Blanche’s dressing room when I came out, gave his own speech, mainly directed to the dancers, about the importance of the straight line and the pattern. A distinguished-looking white-haired man, who turned out to be the conductor, talked about tempo and signals and watching him and not rushing the cancan number. There were more instructions, some questions, and then Blanche gave a pretty speech about how she was counting on every single one of us not to let her down.

As they spoke I studied them in turn: round little Robert Barker with his worried frown, supercilious Desmond Haynes, the various actors and actresses and chorus girls. And there was the backstage crew, lurking in the wings. Did one of them have a secret grudge against Blanche Lovejoy? How was I ever going to find out?

Blanche got to her feet. “All right, everybody. Overture and beginners down here at six forty-five. Oh, and before you go, I have one small addition to our happy family. Molly dear, would you stand up?” I stood, feeling all those eyes upon me. “This young lady is the cousin of none other than Oona Sheehan, so of course I had to find her a small part in our play.”

“I hope you’re not thinking of making her an extra maid and taking away more of my lines,” the older actress who played the maid said peevishly.

“Of course not, darling. Wouldn’t dream of it,” Blanche said. “Molly will be an extra pupil in my school.”

“But we’ve got all the chorus numbers worked out perfectly,” one of the girls complained. “We don’t have time to relearn anything now.”

“Molly will not be part of the chorus. She will be the studious girl who never joins in. Onstage but not part of the action. Now this is all new to her so you must help her. Right, off you go.”

The stage cleared in seconds. I ran to catch up with Blanche. “Where should I go?” I asked.

She considered this. “Probably best if you change with the girls in their dressing room. It would create resentment if I had you get dressed with me. Up the staircase and to the end of the hall.”

She ran ahead of me. I was following, picking my way past props and scenery, when my arm was grabbed roughly. Desmond Haynes was glaring down at me. “You listen to me, girl,” he said. “This is a stupid idea of Blanche’s. She always was too softhearted. The theater is no place for amateurs and I take it you are a rank amateur?”