Life Mask by Emma Donoghue

Author:Emma Donoghue [Donoghue, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

THE UNDER-PROMPTER, William Powell, was overseeing the rehearsal in the Green Room. 'That's two of Millamant's scenes missed at two and six each, Miss Farren.'

'Yes, just note it down in the book,' said Eliza, trying to keep her patience.

'It's dreadfully hot in here, Powell. Can't we use the stage?' asked John Bannister pleasantly.

'They're setting up the flats for Caractacus,' said the under-prompter, eyes on his curling script. 'Now, Act Two, Scene Five, if you please.'

Tall and plump, Palmer was lounging against the wall, the bags under his eyes showing he was well past forty. 'I've got a bloody demon of a headache. Haven't I said it before, Eliza?' He yawned. 'Group rehearsals of an old play only deaden it.'

'Come now, Jack, it's just the one, to refresh our memories; we haven't played The Way of the World in years,' said Eliza. She felt oddly awkward after her revelations in the hat shop. Palmer was the only colleague with whom she was on first-name terms; she and Tom King went back together as far as Garrick's day too, but somehow he was always Mr King, whereas Jack was Jack.

In the corner a wail went up; Mrs Jordan was rocking her enormous baby. She turned to Palmer, wide-eyed, and spoke in her lilting Irish accent. 'Perhaps we should simply trust you to turn up knowing your lines?'

The Bannisters, father and son, roared at the idea and so did Jack himself. 'Rather more than half the time,' he protested with a grin. 'And if I dried, Powell could feed me the words—or I could ad lib, or use my old trick of inserting that all-purpose speech from The Earl of Essex.'

'Please, spare us Essex,' begged Eliza. 'Well, for my part I rather welcome the chance to practise my cues and movements,' she added, crossing the playing area to be ready for her entrance.

'Very industrious of you, madam,' said Mrs Jordan, reaching into her muslin fichu and unlacing her bodice to pop the infant's head in. 'But some of us have other demands on our time.'

Eliza shot her a contemptuous glance. Really, it was no accident that the actress's assumed surname, Jordan, happened to mean chamber pot. Was the woman really boasting of having Ford's bastard latched to her bosom—and another on the way, to judge from her loose wrapper? The most irritating thing was that Dora Jordan, pink-cheeked, had never looked prettier.

'Now, I've spoken to you before about bringing the child,' said Powell gloomily, 'and you gave me your assurance—'

'Oh, don't fuss, dear Willy,' said Mrs Jordan, 'the mite will be quiet as cotton. I'm ready now. Enter Mrs Fainall, left of stage?' She strolled to her place, the baby's milky mouth working vigorously.

Jack, elbows against the wall, cradled his head. 'How,' he whispered to Eliza, 'am I supposed to exchange sophisticated repartee with that?

A tap at the door; Sarah Siddons and her brother Kemble. 'I wonder,' she began gravely, 'might we beg leave to intrude upon your patience and practise quietly in the corner?'

Palmer let out a groan.

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