Виктория Холт - Daughter of Deceit

Countess Maud had settled in— another success for Desiree.

It was about three weeks after the opening night—a Thursday and a matinee. My mother had left for the theatre and I had said I wanted to do some shopping and I would come to the theatre so that I could join her after the performance and Thomas could drive us home together. He often did this. It gave us a little time together before she dashed off for the evening performance.

As I came out of the house I saw Roderick Claverham coming down the street.

“Hello,” he said, and for a few seconds we stood smiling at each other.

I spoke first. “You are still in London, then?”

“I have been home and came back again.”

“How are the remains?”

“No further discoveries. It would be surprising if there were. I was hoping I might see you. I’ve been here once or twice before with the same object in view. This time I’ve struck lucky.”

I felt pleased because he had admitted that he was looking for me.

“Were you going to call on us?” I asked.

“I thought in the circumstances that might not be quite acceptable, would it?”

“Perhaps not.”

“Whereas meeting by accident …”

“Would be quite another matter, of course.”

“Were you going somewhere?”

“Only shopping.”

“May I come?”

“You wouldn’t be interested.”

“I think I should.”

“It is not necessary shopping. I was really going to finish up at the theatre and come home with my mother.”

“Perhaps I could escort you to the theatre.”

“It will be two hours before the show finishes.”

“Well, we could walk round a bit. You could show me this part of London. Perhaps we could have a cup of tea somewhere? Does that seem like a bore to you?”

“Quite the contrary.” , “Then shall we start?”

“Of course, you are attracted to the past,” I said as we walked along. “I don’t think we have anything here as ancient as your Roman remains. My governess is very interested in this area. You see, it is very much associated with the theatre and she is devoted to all that.”

“Perhaps that’s because she is with a theatrical family.”

“There is my mother, of course, but to tell the truth Matty rather despises her achievements. People do when they find someone who has reached the top of what they consider to be a lower grade than they themselves aspire to—particularly if they haven’t made even the first steps towards their goal. You see, Matty fancies herself as a great actress and thinks that she is wasting her time teaching.”

“I should have thought she should have been very proud of her present pupil.”

“We get along quite well. But it is acting she is really interested in. I think in her heart she knows all that is right out of reach. But don’t you agree that people get pleasure out of daydreams?”

“Very likely.”

“It’s an easy way. Matty can live in her dreams—those moments when she is on the stage giving the finest performance of Lady Macbeth, winning the acclaim of the audience, receiving the bouquets, reading about her genius in the next morning’s papers. She doesn’t have to go through all the nerve-racking tensions, the hideous doubts, the nightmare of the opening performance as my mother does.”

“I should have thought your mother was absolutely sure of success.”

“It is because she isn’t that she is successful … if you understand what I mean. She tells me that unless you are in a state of tension you don’t give your best performance. In any case, I can tell you that being a successful actress is not easy and I am beginning to think that Matty’s dreams are more enjoyable than the reality. She gets lyrical about this place and she loves being in the theatrical environment. She thoroughly enjoys our walks round here.”

“As I am doing.”

“We always talk a lot about the old days. It must have been exciting when the theatres were reinstated. Matty goes on at length about the Puritans under Cromwell, who closed the theatres. They thought they were sinful. Matty rails against them.”

“I agree with her. I have a dislike for the sanctimonious who enjoy taking away people’s pleasures with the excuse that it is good for them to be without it while all the time they are indulging their pleasure in contemplating their own virtue.”

“I feel the same. But it was wonderful when the theatre came back. Almost worth having been without it! Matty is very interested in the Restoration playwrights. She has made it a subject for us to study. She says it will be good for me. I am glad she did.”

“I daresay she is teaching herself as well as you.”

“I am sure she is. We went to libraries and unearthed all sorts of information. You will understand how exciting it was. You have your Roman relics.”

“I certainly do. And when you walk these streets you picture them as they were years ago.”

“Yes … with the men in their magnificent wigs and feathered hats—and Nell Gwyn was, of course, at Drury Lane selling oranges and then becoming an actress and fascinating King Charles. It’s all so romantic.”

“And you do not wish to go on the stage and share in the limelight with your mother?”

“I have too much respect for her talents to imagine I share them. I can’t sing and my mother has a beautiful voice. She is also a wonderful dancer.”

“And, unlike Matty, she does not sigh for the classical roles.”

“Countess Maud and suchlike are good enough for her.”

“And very good she is with them.”

“I saw you at the play.”

“Yes, I saw you.”

“You didn’t stay. You must have hurried off.”

“I was unsure. Better to take no action when you are wondering which is the right one.”

“I suppose so. By the way, this is Vere Street. We discovered an interesting story about a theatre which was once here. It was opened by Killigrew and Davenant, who were two well-known theatrical men. They were so anxious to get the theatres started again that they opened one here only a few months after the Restoration. Matty said their enthusiasm must have been marvellous. They brought out a patent that women could play on the stage. Before that their parts were taken by boys. Can you imagine that! Women have been very badly treated through the ages. I think it is time we did something about it. Don’t you agree?”

“I fear that if I don’t I shall lose any regard you have for me, so I will say at once that I do.”

I laughed. “I should not want you to agree with me for that reason.”

“Forget that I said it. It was a foolish remark to make in a serious conversation. Yes, I do agree, but I am sure that with people like you around that situation will soon be remedied.”

“The story I was going to tell you was of a wronged woman.

She was one of the first women to play on the stage. She was in the theatre which was in Vere Street and she was playing Roxana in The Siege of Rhodes. The Earl of Oxford, Aubrey de Vere, came to see the play and conceived a passion for her. A de Vere could not marry an actress, but she would not submit without marriage. The villain then produced a bogus clergyman who arranged a sham marriage, and she did not learn how she had been tricked until it was too late.”

“Not the first, I believe, to have suffered in that way.”

“Matty loves to collect stories about these people. She can tell you about the arrogance of Colley Cibber and the virtue of Anne Bracegirdle.”

“Tell me about the virtuous one.”

“She was an actress who died in the middle of the eighteenth century, which was a time when a lot of interesting people seem to have lived. She had very high moral standards, which was rare in an actress. She used to go round helping the poor. She reminds me of my mother. She has hundreds of begging letters. People are always waiting outside the theatre with some pitiable story.”