Don Gutteridge - Vital Secrets

“Sounds Dutch to me.”

Hilliard frowned briefly, uncertain as to how he ought to take this riposte. “Her father was a Knickerbocker from New York, but her mother was English,” he said, as if that explained all.

“How did she get here?” Marc said helpfully, knowing that, since there was no way he could prevent the whole story from being told, he might as well hurry it along.

“She’s with that acting troupe that came to town last Friday.”

“Three days ago?”

“I know what you’re thinking, but I’ve spent every spare moment for the past two days in her presence.”

“Well, then, two entire days is certainly time enough, and here I thought you were ice-fishing off the island or supervising the road detail.”

“There’s no need to be sarcastic.”

“There’s every need. You’re telling me that you’re deeply, irrevocably in love with an actress from the United States who, if I’ve correctly read the handbills littering this garrison, is in town for precisely five more days?”

“I thought you would understand,” Hilliard groused, crestfallen. “After all, you are a man very much in love yourself, and one who has suffered greatly for it.”

“Perhaps it is because I do have some notion of what love is about that I ask such impertinent questions, Rick. But at the same time I would be a hypocrite to imply that one cannot fall in love at first sight.”

Hilliard brightened at this admission. “I know what respectable people think of actresses, but they would be horribly mistaken in Tessa’s case.”

“Well, then, you must tell me all about such an exceptional soul.”

Hilliard’s expression went suddenly dreamy. “The Bowery Theatre Touring Company arrived here last Friday from Buffalo. Their engagement down there was cut short for some reason and the lady who runs the operation decided to come up here a few days early. They don’t open until tomorrow night at Frank’s Hotel, but Ogden Frank adores the theatre, and he’s put them up in the best rooms above his playhouse for the whole week. In return, they’ve agreed to assist some of the amateur players in town by letting them watch the professionals rehearse and get up fresh scenes and do proper elocution, and so on. Mrs. Annemarie Thedford is the company’s proprietor, a very famous actress from New York City and every inch a lady, and so generous with her time and advice.”

“And Tessa is a member of this illustrious troupe?”

“Oh, yes. There’s six of them in all, seven if you count the black fellow who does the heavy lifting. Tessa plays all the ingenue roles, like Ophelia and Miranda.”

“And is she an ingenue?” Marc asked, knowing what Rick’s answer would be.

“Yes, she’s brilliant. I watched her do Ophelia’s mad scene from Hamlet last Saturday afternoon. There wasn’t a dry eye in the audience. Even the old farts from the Shakespeare Club blubbered shamelessly. Afterwards she was very gracious, and we spent above an hour talking. She seemed very impressed that I had done amateur theatricals since I was a youngster. We hit it off immediately.”

“So I gather. And of what age might this extraordinary ingenue be?”

Hilliard seemed momentarily puzzled by the question, but said quite proudly, “Eighteen.”

Marc sighed but said nothing.

“What does age matter? I’m only twenty-five, and she’s a beautiful woman. And you wouldn’t believe the tragic story of her life.”

“Oh?”

“She was orphaned at fifteen when both her parents died of the cholera and she learned that all her father left her was debts. She was an only child, without relatives in America. But her parents had always loved the theatre, and she had been taken to plays and musicals since she was six.”

“You found out a lot in a little more than an hour.”

“Ah, but our own York Thespians were invited by Mrs. Thedford to put on scenes from our spring production of The Way of the World on Saturday evening just for her company. Imagine the pleasure we had in performing before true professionals! And how they did laugh. But best of all, Tessa was thoroughly taken with my Mirabell, and invited me up to her room for a nightcap, the most exquisite sherry I’ve ever tasted.”

“And you returned for a further engagement yesterday?”

“We couldn’t really do anything on the Sabbath, but with everybody else in the troupe off to see the sights of the city and take up dinner invitations from several of the more distinguished members of the York Thespians, Tessa and I were able to spend the entire day together. The only unpleasant bit was the dressing-down Tessa was given by Mrs. Thedford for not showing up at the Grange for tea, which, I’m embarrassed to say, I was the cause of. But I turned on the charm, and before I left all was once again sweetness and light.”

“Thank God for charm.”

“But to get back to Tessa’s life: as I said, she was alone and destitute-”

“And loved the theatre.”

“-and out of the blue Mrs. Thedford arrives at her house just as the bailiffs do, and spirits Tessa away to her Bowery Theatre, of which she is part owner. It turns out that Mrs. Thedford had been a friend of the Guildersleeves, and so more or less adopted Tessa on their behalf-then and there.”

“Sounds suspiciously like those three-decker romance novels you find so enthralling.”

“There’s more, of course. It soon becomes apparent that Tess has a knack for acting, and is gradually worked into plays requiring the ingenue role.”

“What else?”

“By the age of seventeen, she’s the talk of New York, and being pursued by every cad and roué in that nefarious town.”

“So she and the company run off to-”

“I know this all sounds incredibly romantic, Marc, but it happens to be fact. The reason the troupe is on the road is that the Bowery Playhouse burned down last spring, and as the new one won’t be ready until this coming January, Mrs. Thedford formed a touring company for this fall. They’ve been to Rochester and Buffalo, and from here they’re going on to Detroit and Chicago.”

“And when they do?”

Hilliard stared at the floor. “I haven’t been able to think about that,” he said gloomily.

“The good news is you’ve got five more days to find out just how deep your love really goes. And believe me, Rick, that will prove to be a necessary part of the process.”

A grateful smile lit up Hilliard’s face. “That’s true. And the reason I wanted to tell you all this is that we’ve been invited again to watch a rehearsal of some scenes from Shakespeare-things they’ve done before but not for some time. It’s a chance to see how they whip an act into top shape.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it interesting, but-”

“I want you to come with me. I want you to meet Tessa.”

Marc was surprised, then touched, by Hilliard’s request. Of course, Rick did not know that Marc, too, had been briefly intoxicated by the acting scene in London five years ago. He merely wanted to show off his girl to-what? — his best friend.

Thinking that Marc was about to demur, Hilliard said quickly, “Owen Jenkin is coming along, too. He’s been in musical hall revues in his youth, and I think he’s got the itch again. We’ll be the only three there, according to Tessa.”

Marc and Major Jenkin had developed a firm friendship ever since their foraging trip last March, with the latter enjoying the role of confidant and avuncular guide. Since then, his fund of stories about the Peninsular War, the Duke of Wellington, and Uncle Frederick had kept Marc entertained through the long, difficult months following his separation from Beth, who was still in Crawford’s Corners. Beth wrote to him faithfully every week-rambling, newsy letters about everything that was happening on the Goodall farm and in the township around them. Winnifred’s baby was overdue, but no one was worrying. Thomas’s hand had healed, though he was left with a dreadful scar.