Caroline tried to imagine it, and failed. She thought of what she knew of her father-in-law.
Why had Samuel’s mother left him? She racked her memory and could recall no mention of her at all. She was certain beyond any question that her mother-in-law had never said a word about her husband’s having had a previous wife. Had she run off with another man?
From what Samuel was now saying, she had reached New York alone. Had he abandoned her? Had Edmund Ellison thrown her out for some unforgivable offense?
“It must have been appalling,” she said sincerely. “How did she manage? Was there no one to. .”
“You mean kin, relatives?” Samuel seemed amused. He leaned back a little, relaxing. “Not at first, but so many people were making new lives, beginning again with nothing, it didn’t seem so odd. And there were opportunities. She was handsome, and willing to work hard.”
“Doing what?” Caroline asked, then blushed at her clumsiness. Perhaps it was not something he was comfortable to discuss. “I mean. . she had a baby to care for. .”
“Oh, I was passed around from hand to hand,” Samuel replied cheerfully. “By the time I was two I could have said ‘Mama’ or ‘I’m hungry’ in a dozen different languages.”
“What amazing courage,” Joshua said quietly. “You must have witnessed some remarkable events, Mr. Ellison?”
“Indeed,” Samuel agreed with feeling. “And history made. But I’ll wager, so have you. And heard great ideas discussed, and seen a heap of beautiful things I haven’t yet.” He looked around. “There’s got to be all kinds of life in this city, everything a man has ever thought of. Crossroads to the nations of the earth. Makes me feel like a boy from the backwoods. And here I thought New York was getting sophisticated, after all our adventures.”
“Adventures?” Caroline asked with as much real curiosity as good manners.
He grinned. “Oh, New York after the war was something else, ma’am. You never saw a town like it in your life! Not a place for ladies then, but proper civilized now, compared with the past, that is. Mind, if you want the real gentry, maybe Boston is the town to be in.”
“Have you traveled farther west, Mr. Ellison?” Pitt spoke to him for the first time.
Samuel regarded him with interest. “I’ve been some-you mean like Indian country? I could tell a few tales, but a lot of them’d be sad, to my way of thinking. But maybe not every man’d agree with me.”
“Who would disagree with you?” Joshua asked with interest.
A shadow passed over Samuel’s face. “The march of progress is not always a pretty sight, sir, and it leaves an awful lot of dead bodies in its wake, sometimes the best part of a nation and its dreams get trodden under. I guess maybe the strongest wins, but the weaker can be very beautiful, and their passing can leave you with an emptiness inside there’s nothing left that can fill.”
Caroline glanced at Pitt. His face was turned away from the light, and the shadows threw his features into relief. In listening to Samuel he had caught a vision of some kind of bereavement, and the mark of it was plain to see.
“You speak with great feeling, Mr. Ellison,” Joshua said quietly. “You make us wish to hear more and learn what it is that moves you so deeply. I hope that we shall make your closer acquaintance.”
Samuel rose to his feet. “You are very generous, Mr. Fielding. I’ll surely take you up on it. But I guess that’s my cue to go back to my own box before the lights go down, so I don’t inconvenience you all by not being in my seat in time. Quite apart from manners, this is a play no one should miss the end of. I don’t think in all my days I’ve ever seen a woman like that leading lady of yours. She could light a fire just by looking at dry wood!” He turned to Caroline. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, ma’am. A man can choose his friends, but not his family. It’s a rare blessing to find nature’s pick for you coincides with your own.” And after bidding them all good evening, he and Leigh turned and went out of the door, closing it softly behind them.
Joshua stared at Caroline. “Can he be?”
“Oh yes!” she exclaimed without hesitation. She turned to Pitt, but it was not really a question.
Pitt nodded. “He bears a remarkable resemblance to Edward Ellison. It is too great to be coincidence.” He frowned slightly. “Did you know your father-in-law had an earlier wife?”
“No! I’m astounded,” she admitted. “I have never heard a single word about her. I am not even sure if Mrs. Ellison knows.” Years of hidden battles with the old lady were sharp in her mind, the criticism, the comparisons of the present with the past, always to the detriment of Caroline and her daughters. She could not help allowing a little bubble of satisfaction to rise inside her as she turned to the stage, ready to watch the drama there reach its climax.
She was immediately drawn into the tragedy again. Cecily Antrim’s character was the vehicle for such passion it was impossible to remain apart from it. Even the coming of Samuel Ellison into her life with his revelations was forgotten as the unfolding emotions captured her and she felt the pain and the urgency as if it were her own life.
Part of her resented the laying bare of feelings within herself she would rather not have recognized. Another part found a kind of release in no longer hiding them-and in the amazing knowledge that she was not alone. Other women felt the same hunger, disillusion, sense of having betrayed their dreams and that some part of life was a disappointment they had not known how to deal with, only to deny.
Should such things be said? Was there something indecent in the exposure of feelings so intimate? To know it herself was one thing, to realize that others also knew was quite different. It was being naked publicly rather than privately.
Usually when she visited the theatre with Joshua she looked at him often, wishing to share the laughter or the tragedy with him. It was a great part of her pleasure. Tonight she wished to remain alone. She was afraid of what she would see in his face, and even more what he would see in hers. She was not yet ready to be quite so close, perhaps she never would be. There must be some privacy in even the deepest love, some secrets left, some things one did not wish to know. It was part of respect, the room to be oneself, a wholeness.
When the tragedy was complete and the final curtain descended, Caroline found there were tears on her cheeks and her voice was choked in her throat. She sat motionless, staring at the folds of the curtains. The last bows had been taken again and again, flowers presented, the applause had died away.
“Are you all right?” Pitt asked softly, close to her elbow.
She turned and smiled at him, and blinked, feeling the tears roll down her face. She was glad it was he who had asked, not Joshua. Just at the moment she felt remote from theatre people, actors who could look at this professionally, as an art. It was too real for that, too much the stuff of life.
“Yes. . yes, thank you, Thomas. Of course I am. It was just. . very moving.”
He smiled. He did not say anything else, but she could see in his eyes that he understood the thoughts it raised as well, the questions and the confusions that would live on long after tonight.
“Superb,” Joshua breathed out, his face glowing. “I swear she’s never been better! Even Bernhardt could not have exceeded this. Caroline-Thomas-we must go backstage to tell her. I couldn’t miss this opportunity. Come!” Without waiting for a reply he moved towards the door of the box, so consumed in his enthusiasm it never occurred to him either of the others could think differently.
Caroline glanced at Pitt.
Pitt shrugged very slightly, smiling.
Together they followed after Joshua’s already retreating figure. He led them unhesitatingly through a door marked PRIVATE and along a bare passage, down a flight of steps lit only by a single gas bracket, and through another door onto a landing off of which were several dressing rooms, each marked with someone’s name. The one with CECILY ANTRIM on it was half open, and the sound of voices came from inside quite clearly.
Joshua knocked, then went in, Caroline and Pitt on his heels.
Cecily was standing by the mirrors and a table spread with grease-paints and powders. She was still wearing the gown from the last act, and her hair was quite obviously her own and not a wig. She was very tall for a woman-Joshua’s height-and as slender as a wand, even though at this distance it was possible to see that she was in her early forties, not thirties as she had appeared on stage. Caroline needed only a glance to know she was one of those women to whom age is irrelevant. Her beauty was in her bones, her magnificent eyes, and above all the fire inside her.
“Joshua! Darling!” she said with delight, spreading her arms wide to embrace him.
He walked forward and hugged her, kissing her on both cheeks.
“You have excelled even yourself!” he said ardently. “You made us feel everything and care passionately. And
