Page 47 of The Extraordinary Florence Stoker

‘Ohhh! Who’s important then?’ drawled one of the virgins beside me. A ‘virgin’ who usually made her living in the music halls, and we all knew what that meant. If Mother or Father could see me now, they’d be mortified.

Grateful Judith hadn’t called me by my name, I swiftly followed her, wondering what was so important Ellen was asking for me this close to the curtain rising. Was something wrong? Had Henry changed his mind and decided I wasn’t good enough to make my debut?

‘Look what arrived for you,’ said Ellen, as I entered her dressing room. Filled with flowers and gifts from admirers, screens draped with sparkling, bold costumes, a heady, wild fragrance that was all Ellen’s, as well as dozens of pairs of shoes, hats, wigs, bright jewels, and the oily smell of make-up, her room was an Aladdin’s cave – a place where magic happened. A snowstorm of powder-dust enveloped me. As I reached her side, she thrust an arrangement of beautiful flowers into my hand. Judith shut the door and busied herself folding Ellen’s regular clothes.

Dressed as Queen Camma, Ellen was resplendent in a gown that wrapped around her fine figure. It appeared to have been woven from the wings of a dragonfly. Bands of gold circled the lower part of her arms, and a bejewelled cap sat atop her golden locks. I couldn’t speak; I was stunned by her regal beauty.

Ellen looked pointedly at the flowers, clearing her throat. ‘For you.’

‘Why, Ellen, that’s so very kind of —’

‘They’re not from me.’ Ellen caught my eye in the mirror. She jerked her chin towards an identical array on the table. ‘They’re mine. I’m not supposed to tell you who sent them, but I didn’t see the point of keeping it a secret. Here,’ she twisted around and passed me a note. It was addressed to her. ‘It explains everything.’

At once, my heart seized. I knew that handwriting – the ostentatious whorls, the elegant slope to the cursive. I sank into a nearby chair.

I send you some flowers – two crowns. Will you accept one of them, whichever you think will suit you best. The other – don’t think me treacherous, Nellie – but the other please give to Florrie from yourself.

I glanced at Ellen.

‘Keep reading,’ she instructed, applying more powder to her face.

I should like to think that she was wearing something of mine the first night she comes on the stage, that anything of mine should touch her. Of course if you think – but you won’t think she will suspect? How could she? She thinks I never loved her …

My face grew hot. I continued reading.

… thinks I forget. My God, how could I!

Aware of Ellen’s eyes upon me, I kept my head lowered even as my cheeks flamed, and my disloyal heart somersaulted. Ellen knew all about Oscar. It was one of the many confidences we’d shared while away. Not that my past amours compared with hers. Why, Ellen had been married for the first time at sixteen, and had two illegitimate children to her artist lover, Edward Godwin, before she gained respectability for them and herself by marrying the actor Charles Wardell Kelly.

A bell sounded in the corridor. ‘Fifteen minutes!’ called Harry.

I had to move, resume my place with the other virgins.

I pushed my face into the flowers, shutting my eyes and inhaling their sweet fragrance and even sweeter memories. A part of me was so touched by Oscar’s gesture, but the other part of me wanted to slap his face with a glove, challenge him.

She thinks I never loved her …

What else was I supposed to think when he neglected me the way he did? First, he gifts jewellery, a painting, and makes a sketch of me. I shivered. I recalled how intimate that was, facing him in that small room, watching him watching me. The way his pencil flew over the page, his eyes following the flow of my hips, my waist, my breasts, lingering on my lips. It was as if with every stroke of his pen, he caressed me. The moving pencil aroused fire; caused my breath to quicken and my insides to melt. Jesus wept, if Oscar had sought to take me that day, I would have willingly lain with him. And yet, for all that happened between us, spoken and unspoken, public and private, he’d left me with the humiliating task of explaining his absence, his silence, his indifference. It wasn’t until Bram appeared that I could hold my head up again, laugh at my negligent once-suitor. How dare Oscar try and second-guess me, tell Ellen, of all people, what I thought and felt. For all I knew, he forgot me and, as for loving me, I was not Madame Blavatsky, capable of reading minds or seeing the future.

Anyway, he’d had plenty of time to see me since – to talk to me.

He loved me. My heart tilted. Once upon a time …

I folded the paper, wishing my hands wouldn’t tremble so. This was just typical of Oscar. Everything was a drama, including the stage debut of his former paramour.

‘I hope you don’t mind me letting you read that,’ asked Ellen, facing me. ‘I thought you should. Oscar had no right to put me in such a position, not that he’d see it that way,’ she said tenderly.

I planted a kiss on her cheek and, plucking a flower from the crown, pinned it to the inside of my gown. ‘I’m glad you let me. Mind you, I don’t know what I’ll tell Bram.’

‘Will it bother him?’ she asked. Her own husband chose to be wilfully ignorant about her relationship with Henry.

‘Not terribly, I shouldn’t think.’ Not at all was more likely. He’d never shown any jealousy towards Oscar, or my past with him. As far as Bram was concerned, Oscar failed where he succeeded. Likewise all the other men who paid me outrageous compliments, whispered improper suggestions. I had the strong impression Bram enjoyed their attempts at seduction, knowing I was more than capable of repelling them. Their wasted interest in me reflected well upon him.

I placed the remainder of the floral crown carefully on the edge of Ellen’s dresser. ‘Are you going to wear yours?’ I asked her, nodding towards it.

Ellen laughed. ‘Not with this.’ Her hands swept her gown. ‘Lemon —’ she began as I reached the door. ‘Oscar and you … Do you …’ She paused and pressed her fingers to her lips momentarily. ‘I mean, do you love him … still? It’s evident he has feelings for you.’

I glanced towards Judith, who tactfully began to hum. I approached Ellen and knelt by her side, looking at her reflection. ‘Perhaps,’ I said softly. ‘Once. I thought I did. But then Bram came and now it’s no longer … I mean … I can’t …’