“Must I marry him, Father?”she began.“My heart is with another, and well you know it.”
As she pointed her face upwards for the part, she spotted her mother peeking through the same window she had been looking through earlier. It eased her mind to know her mother was not far away.
The crowd in front of the stage watched her closely and in an eery silence. They saw it as their role to cheer of jeer, depending on their mood.
Chapter 2
The theatre appeared dark and lifeless inside. It was a typical dreary atmosphere when all the house lights were out. Even the huge high-ceiling room was filled with black and grey shadows lurking in the unseen crevices. The smoky, tallow candled, and oil-fed elaborate chandeliers would not be lit until the evening show. And then, the entire building would come to life with laughter and chatter, and the thunderous sound of applause.
Faint voices could be heard echoing from the stage, as a few actors rehearsed for the evening performance. From the edges of the stage, candle lamps illuminated it, giving it a warm and welcoming glow. The golden light fought hard to cut through the lonely darkness. But in the darkened shadows that blanketed the rows of seats, a man observed the actors. This was not just any gentleman, it was the owner of the theatre, Lord Oliver Northbury, the Duke of Grafton.
He was not an actor by any means, but his family had owned the theatre for many generations. Being involved in his father’s business dealings as he grew up, he knew all the intricacies of a good performance. Yet what he was witnessing at the rehearsal was not at all good. One could say it was professional, and no doubt the critics would pen positive reviews. Yet the performers lacked a vibrancy in their craft. It was a vibrancy he had not seen in any performance for many years. Many of the older actors had retired from the theatre, and the upcoming ones didn’t have the same level of pride in their craft. So, his search continued as he combed the area to find new talent.
He waited patiently for the rehearsal to conclude. As the actors stopped, he moved with silent footsteps. As he walked upon the carpeted floor, he took a few wooden steps to enter the back of the stage. There, he met his leading lady, Miss Margaret Lockhart. He knew her to be sensitive to criticism, so he would first start by complimenting her. That would lead on to telling her how he felt her performance was lifeless. Actors, he knew, were fickle creatures, and he would tread with the greatest of care when it came to doling out critique.
“Margaret, my stunning star of the show, let us talk if you have a spare moment for me?” Oliver said in a half-jolly tone as he approached his leading lady, though he bore the look of stressful worry. Being the owner of the theatre house and not an actor, he wasn’t sure how if Margaret would take his criticism. He had learned to always start any conversation with an actor, with a compliment. Never so was this more necessary, given Margaret’s temperament.
“If you’re giving out such wonderful compliments, darling, I will talk with you anytime,” Margaret replied. Oliver knew that she relished being the centre of attention, most especially from the wealthy theatre owner. From what he’d been told, she’d had a crush on him for years, but he paid no heed to idle gossip.
“I can only put it down to an off day, but where is the passion in your performance today?” Oliver asked, treading as lightly as he dared, without actually insulting her skills.
“Oh, my darling,” Margaret called out in an exaggerated, husky voice, for she wanted all to see that the Oliver was paying her attention. “You know me, I’m saving my best performance for the real thing. You will see yourstunning starof the show tonight.”
Oliver watched Margaret wave her arms around as she spoke. This was a woman who played out her life as one big melodrama, and it reflected in her character
“I sincerely hope so. I want to see the terror in your eyes at the shock you have witnessed. I want to feel the heat in your heart emanate from the stage as your lover dies in your arms. What I don't want to see is this cold, stale-looking character that you have portrayed in rehearsals today.”
“What?” Margaret looked horrified at the words that passed through Oliver’s lips. “Stale-looking indeed! What do you know of acting?” she called out in her deep, husky tone, that often became hoarse if she shouted too loud. “The fault, Oliver, lays with you, my dear. Your expectations are far too great. Why should an actor need to shine in rehearsals? Tonight, you will see me in my full glory, as you always do in a show. I trust you will be there to witness my stunning performance, and then give me your sincere apologies?”
“Ah, alas no,” Oliver told her, unperturbed by her outburst. “I have another engagement on this occasion. Nonetheless, do give your performance a little more care.”
“Your role should be to attend every performance, darling, and not be drifting away from your responsibilities," Margaret tutted. He could see that she was readying for a sparring session that he did not care for.
“I bid you farewell, for now, Margaret. Please heed my words,” he warned before turning to head straight to his office. Margaret did not have the opportunity to retort, though she looked enraged. He knew it would leave her frustrated with him, though he had little care.
As he opened the door to the office, Oliver was fuming under his collar. “That woman needs to improve, and soon, or I will be sending her packing,” he mumbled to Charles, the company leader.
“I gather you’ve been upsetting our leading lady once again?” Charles asked as he looked upon the sour face of his employer.
The office was a windowless little room, and the air was stifling with the swirling smoke from lighted candles. It caused Oliver to cough as he started to take off his top clothes.
“Are you going out again? Surely, you’re not going to miss the show?” Charles asked, his dark brown eyes going wide with surprise.
“Tuck in your ever-growing belly, Charles, and expand your mind a little. Both would do you some good,” Oliver remarked, taking off his pants. “You know, Margaret is no longer a girl, and we would do well giving her roles that are more fitting of her age.”
“Gracious me, Oliver! Don’t you ever let her hear you talking in that way, or we’ll have no leading lady,” Charles puffed as he took a seat to catch his breath.
“If Margaret is not capable of developing into a role more suited to her age, then I will most certainly replace her,” Oliver snapped back. At the same time, he pulled up a different set of pants, that had the look of shabbiness about them.
“I see that you’re pretending to be a commoner again,” Charles remarked, rubbing his podgy hand through a few greasy golden curls on his balding head of hair. “Where is it that you go this time? Some crude street play that's performed by rogues, and has rabble for an audience?”
Oliver wagged his finger at his company manager, tucking in a shirt that was two sizes too big for him. “You underestimate the skills of the traveling theatre groups, my man. Their blood is invested in their trade.”
“Their blood is dirty if you ask me,” Charles mumbled, furrowing his brows in a scowl. “Well… perhaps I overstep the mark, but you were the one who brought in their blood. Truly though, Oliver, they really are quite crude people.”
“Tonight, I will be watching one of the touring theatre’s perform ‘Forced Marriage,’ and I understand they have a new leading lady in it,” Oliver explained. “And I’m always on the lookout for good actors.”
“Why would our theatre need to take on such unprofessional performers? I have no understanding of why you have this need to watch street shows. Not when you can sit in the comfort of your own glamorous theatre, alongside nobility?” Charles asked, still not happy at what his employer was about.