Herald Of Death

Samuel raised his eyebrows. “Where are you going, then? It’s not your afternoon off.”

“I know.” She took a deep breath, then added in a rush, “I’m going to help Doris with her costumes in the pantomime. I’m going to rehearsal now.”

Samuel’s eyebrows twitched even higher. “Doris?”

His voice had come out all squeaky, and Pansy glared at him. “Yes, Doris. The big love of your life. She asked me to help her and I’m going to do it.”

For a moment Samuel looked as if he might be cross, but then he smiled. “That’s exciting, Pansy! I’m happy for you. Really I am. You’ll have a great time. Doris is a lovely person, and you’ll enjoy working with her.”

“Yeah, I know I will.” She studied his face, trying to read what he was thinking behind that smile. Was he still in love with Doris? If only she knew for sure. If only he would say he loved her, then she could stop worrying about the songstress.

“Well, I’d better let you go, then,” Samuel said, giving her a quick hug. “You’d better scram or you’ll be late.”

He walked off, leaving her staring after him, unsure now if she really wanted to help Doris after all.

CHAPTER 15

Gertie smiled at the young woman hurrying toward her across the foyer. “Doris! I haven’t seen you since you bloody got here. Where have you been hiding?”

Doris paused, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “I’ve been busy with rehearsals and trying to spend time with my husband and daughter. Mrs. Fortescue keeps us all on our toes.”

“Yeah, she’s a bloody slave driver, that woman. I’m glad I don’t have to work for her.” Gertie looked around. “Where is Essie, then? Is she with Daisy and the twins?”

An odd look crossed Doris’s face, giving Gertie a stab of uneasiness. “No, actually Daisy went into town to do some Christmas shopping.”

Gertie felt even more anxious. “She didn’t take the twins with her, did she? They’re supposed to be at rehearsal this afternoon.”

Now Doris looked really uncomfortable. “No, I thought you knew. The twins are with Clive. He’s taking care of them for Daisy.”

Gertie’s annoyance was tempered with relief. “Well, she might have bloody told me she was going to dump them on Clive. She should have asked me first.”

“I believe she did look for you but couldn’t find you. One of the footmen was going into town this morning and offered her a ride in the carriage. She thought about taking the twins, but Clive was there at the time and he suggested the children would be happier building a snowman with him. He said the snow would all be gone by tomorrow and this was their last chance.”

Gertie had to smile. “That sounds like Clive. He’s good with the kiddies. I heard he used to be a schoolteacher.”

“He was? I wonder why he stopped teaching.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot I don’t know about him.” Gertie peered at the grandfather clock, wondering if the twins had made it to rehearsal on time. If not, Phoebe would be having a fit by now. “I keep meaning to ask him about his past, but there never seems to be a good time.”

“He’d make a wonderful father.” Doris followed her gaze. “I’d better get down to the ballroom. Mrs. Fortescue will be screaming for me any moment. Clive took the twins down there a while ago.”

Relieved, Gertie waved a hand. “Oh, thank goodness. Good luck with the pantomime!”

She was about to head for the stairs when Doris called out, “He’s in love with you, you know.”

Gertie stopped dead, her heart skipping a beat. “Who is?”

“Clive, of course. You must know that. It’s obvious by the way he talks about you.”

Gertie laughed, though it sounded hollow, even to her. “Clive talks that way about everybody. He loves people, that’s all.”

Standing in the entrance to the hallway, Doris looked back at her. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s in love with you, Gertie. He’s a good man. Don’t keep him dangling too long or you’ll lose him.”

With a quick wave of her hand she was gone, leaving Gertie staring after her, speechless and dumbfounded.

“Doris isn’t here yet,” Phoebe said, waving an irritated hand at Pansy. “When you find her, tell her we’re waiting for her.”

Pansy started to speak, but Phoebe shot up her hand again. “I don’t have time for anything else. Go, child! Find my star!”

“I thought I was your star,” Deirdre whined from the stage. “The pantomime is called Peter Pan, isn’t it? I’m Peter Pan, aren’t I? I should be the star.”

A chorus of voices echoed her.

“Yeah, she’s Peter Pan!”

“Yeah, she’s the star!”

“Deirdre’s Peter Pan!”

“Yeah, she’s just as good as Doris!”

“Quiet!” Phoebe clapped her hands. “I will not have this insubordination on my stage.”

“There’s that word again.” Deirdre advanced to the front of the stage. “Why don’t you speak bloody English?” The titters behind her grew louder.

Phoebe’s face turned scarlet.

Pansy held her breath, waiting for the onslaught.

Phoebe marched up to the front of the stage and shook her fist at the grinning Deirdre. “If I have to speak to you again,” she roared, in a surprisingly strong voice for a woman of such petite stature, “it will be to tell you to get off my stage. You’re not the only one who can play Peter Pan. Everyone knows your lines by now. It won’t be that difficult to replace you. If I do that, make no mistake, you will never appear on this stage again. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

Deirdre stopped grinning and, mumbling something under her breath, backed away.

“Good.” Phoebe folded her arms. “Now you listen to me, all of you, just in case someone else has delusions of grandeur. Mrs. Lansfield is far and above you pathetic amateurs. She is a star in every sense of the word. She is a professional, and as such she will be treated with the respect she deserves. Anyone of you can be replaced. Doris cannot. Do you understand?”

Mumbles and grumbles drifted down from the stage.

Phoebe raised her voice again. “I repeat, do you understand?”

A few voices muttered, “Yes, Mrs. Fortescue.”

“I’m not a professional. Not anymore.”

Pansy swung around as the new voice spoke from behind her. Doris smiled at her. “Hello, Pansy. Thank you for coming.”

Phoebe frowned. “Do you need her to fetch you something?”

“No.” Doris linked her arm in Pansy’s, making the younger girl’s knees go weak. “Pansy has kindly offered to be my dresser for the pantomime.”

Phoebe’s charcoaled eyebrows disappeared under her hat. “Your dresser? But… but she’s one of the maids!”

“So was I, once.” Doris started walking toward the backstage door, pulling Pansy along with her. “And look at me now.” With that, she tugged Pansy through the door and closed it behind them.

Cecily was enjoying a quiet meal with her husband in their sitting room that evening when Pansy disturbed