With Good Grace by Wendy Soliman

Author:Wendy Soliman [Soliman, Wendy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-07-01T23:00:00+00:00

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It was still raining hard when Jake’s carriage deposited him at the stage door to the Adelphi Theatre. He told his coachman to wait for him and made his way inside, where a porter asked him his business. His gruff attitude became more deferential when Jake gave his name and asked to see Madame Céleste.

‘She’s busy right now, m’lord. She don’t normally see no one this close to curtain time. Can I say what your business is?’

‘Financial support,’ Jake replied, having anticipated the question.

‘Very well. We’ll see, if you wouldn’t mind waiting.’

A lad was despatched into the bowels of the theatre to seek out Madame. He returned a short time later and asked Jake if he would follow him. He did, unsurprised that Madame Céleste was willing to see him without an appointment. Men of Jake’s ilk had proven to be the generous benefactors of theatres or, more frequently, of its leading actresses. Jake had discovered that since Marcus Grantley’s demise no one else had become a regular supporter of Madame Céleste’s productions. That, presumably, was what had forced her to limit her repertoire to safer, more established works.

The lad led the way through a maze of passageways, along which busy-looking people bustled in both directions. He heard two female voices, raised in argument coming from what he assumed to be dressing rooms. Two actors dressed in doublets and hose approached them, practising lines for that night’s performance. One of them collided with Jake’s shoulder.

‘Watch where you’re going!’ he cried, glowering at Jake as though the accident had been his fault.

A stagehand called for clear passage as he barged alone with a ladder over his shoulder. Jake dived into an alcove before the tail end of the ladder crashed against his head. The lighting in the corridor was so poor, Jake was surprised the man could see where he was going. Every corner revealed more people in costume, all attempting to talk over one another, an air of nervous chaos pervading. He could hear distant sounds of the orchestra tuning up in the auditorium’s pit and a beautiful soprano voice practising a popular tune.

The lad finally stopped in front of a polished door, tapped on it and then turned the handle.

‘Lord Torbay, madam,’ he said, backing away so that Jake could enter a surprisingly elegant office. Just like Barber’s rather cramped premises, the walls of this office were also decorated with billboards, some of them showing Madame Céleste in her dancing days.

‘Lord Torbay. This is an unexpected pleasure.’

A small woman stood from behind a large desk, eyeing Jake speculatively. Jake had not met Madame Céleste before and knew that he was not doing so now. Madame must be approaching forty but this lady was a good decade younger than that and lacked the presence he had learned to associate with actors in general. She seemed more harried and, judging by the piles of papers on the desk she sat behind, Jake assumed she filled some sort of administrative role. She spoke with a French accent.

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