What if they laugh at me, instead of with me?
Her dark mop of curls sat atop her head, fixed in place with faux pearl hair pins to give her a look of wealth. All part of her role in the popular play, which was titledForced Marriage.
What if they can tell this is my first performance?
She inhaled deeply again; another method of training that should help her relax. Nelly was ready for the performance. White-powder makeup had been dapped all over her already porcelain completion. Heavy makeup gave the actors a dramatic pale appearance. The dull white gown she wore, was to be her wedding dress in one of the scenes.
What if—
“I can see that you are agonizing over everything that could go wrong,” her mother’s voice came to her as she lay her arm over her daughter’s shoulder. “With your skill and acting ability, nothing will be amiss.”
“Oh, Mother, how do you know?” Nelly’s dark red lips formed the question as her voice quivered. Her lips felt sticky, and her skin prickled with a cold sensation, sending rippling tingles through her body. The stage makeup felt constricting as if it was clogging her skin and depriving her of air.
“Because I know how talented my daughter is,” her mother replied with a confident smile. “These last-minute nerves are good for you; did you know that?”
“I don’t see how being a withering wreck could enhance my performance?” Nelly questioned, not convinced her mother spoke the truth.
“It means, my dear, that you are a true performer,” her mother insisted. “Those who worry are the ones who care, which will push you on to perform at your very best.”
“But is my best good enough?” Nelly asked, still unsure if she was ready for her first main role in the play. She had performed supporting roles aplenty, but none had placed her in the limelight. “Let’s be honest, Mother, none of us know how I will perform. I may fall to pieces with the first word I utter.”
“Acting is in your blood, child, and don’t you forget that.” Her mother refused to support her daughter's dreary thoughts. “You are as skilled as your mother ever was, and her mother before her too.”
“You think so?” Nelly looked at her mother with a wide-eyed stare. “You will take some beating, Mother. If I recall, Delilah Woodcliff was the best around for years and years.”
“Might I remind you that you have been acting since before you could even talk?” her mother smiled, wanting to remind her daughter that this was not new to her.
“I know, but that was for fun, this…this is for real,” Nelly shook her head, raising her arm to indicate the audience below.
“You, my dear, are the ultimate professional and you know all the tricks in the book. If you forget your lines you improvise. No one will know, not if you do it with a natural flare. I don’t need to tell you this though, do I?” her mother assured her. “You were born to take a leading role, and it is time to take up that mantle. The role in this play was written for you, that’s how perfect you are.”
“But…but look at them,” she said, still with a tremor in her voice as she returned to peer through the glass of the small window. “They look like savages, Mother, untamed even. They will shred me to pieces if they suspect I am flawed.”
“Look at yourself first, daughter. You are not only beautiful, but you are talented too. The women will envy you, and the men will all want to hold you.”
“But will they appreciate my acting? Will they clap me off the stage instead of wanting me to stay on it?”
“The people you see before you in the crowd, they are watching you because they seek to be entertained. These people pay their hard-earned coin to see us telling them a tale. They truly want to be there my dear.” Her mother tried to explain as she came to join her daughter at the small window. “It is true, some of them are a little rough around the edges.”
“Yes, Mother, they have a look of wildness about them. And let’s not forget that the mead might encourage them to be loud.”
"If you capture their eyes, you will find no malice. They are here to escape their hard lives. You are right to worry that they do not appreciate those who are worthless, for they do not have the time to waste. What they long for is to be taken into a world of fantasy. That’s why they are going to adore a talented young actor such as yourself. They are your future followers, my dear. What's more, they are going to fall in love with you.”
"I wish I had your confidence, Mother,” Nelly said, her eyes going to the floor as she felt her shame.
“By the end of the night, the mead will lull them into a peaceful daze. But to begin with, it heightens their senses. That means that they appreciate the time in which they can find an escape from the drudgery of their lives.” Her mother continued to explain how her daughter should perceive her audience.
“I would imagine that an actor is more appreciated in theatre buildings than by the drunkards of an inn.”
“No, that is far from the truth,” her mother snapped back. “Whenever you perform to your own kind of people — the commoners, the farmers and factory workers, miners, beggars and even women of the street, you act from your heart because you will feel their appreciation. Theirs is a genuine love of a play, it is their only escape, as much as it is yours. Those who perform for the wealthier audience in the big theatre houses, like the nobility, they do so for financial gain only, and not for art. I am convinced of this.”
“Hmmm…at least a wealthy audience will not look as rough and ready as that lot below,” Nelly argued. “They petrify me, Mother. The disadvantaged will have no misgivings about throwing fists at me, should they decide I am not worthy of their time.”
“You misjudge your people, my dear. Although I suppose there is some truth that they will be quick to judge. If they enjoy your performance, which they will, they will throw adoration your way. And that is priceless.”
“Nelly! Nelly! Come over here and join us. We are rehearsing before we go on,” Daisy, her cousin, shouted over
“Go on” her mother encouraged. “You know what it is I say all the time, practice makes perfect.”