Page 55 of The Extraordinary Florence Stoker

That had been back in February. Clearly, things hadn’t improved.

Bram drew the heel of his hand across his brow. He took a deep breath. ‘Without consulting me or Harry, Henry’s hired three extra men —’ He hesitated.

‘Actors?’

Bram grimaced. ‘No. They’re … I don’t know what you’d call them. Journalists, I suppose.’

‘Journalists?’ I sat up higher. ‘Why would Henry hire journalists? He doesn’t own a newspaper. What would he need them for?’

Bram’s eyes grew dark with perplexity and, as I observed his knitted brow, the colour in his cheeks, the downturned mouth – hurt. It wasn’t the first time Henry had caused Bram injury, and my instinct to rage against his employer fought with my wiser self.

In the past, without thinking, I’d level a criticism, foolishly believing that at last a wedge had been driven between the men. Only, just as Ellen had predicted, anything I said that cast aspersions on Mr Irving, even when totally justified or acknowledged by Bram himself, was defended.

No matter what Henry bloody Irving did, I’d end up the offender. Yet, Bram did occasionally share his distress at certain decisions Henry made. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

Bram continued. ‘He’s employed an Irish fellow named Louis Fredrick Austin to act as his secretary. Then there’s Joseph Hatton, who’s to be his “official” historian, and a pretentious freelancer named Austin Brereton who’s been hired to oversee publicity.’

I blinked in surprise. ‘What can any of these men do that you don’t? I mean, you’re Henry’s secretary, you’re essentially his historian the way you keep records, and you handle publicity. Does it mean your hours will be reduced? That you’ll have time to pursue your own writing?’ For a fleeting moment, I dared hope. He hadn’t written another word since Under the Sunset was published.

He rubbed his beard. ‘When I asked, Henry claimed their employment won’t affect mine. I’ll still have the same duties.’

‘What? But … but that’s ridiculous. How? Please don’t tell me it will be like when he employed Charles Howson and mean even more work for you.’

Bram threw up his hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Who knows?’ He bent over and slipped off his boots.

‘What does Harry Loveday say about these new hires?’

Bram stared at his socked feet. ‘What Harry always says when Henry makes decisions – nothing – which is tantamount to agreeing.’

Bram loosened his cravat. He slid off his jacket and stood to hang it over the back of a chair. Then, he came around the other side of the bed, lowering himself and wriggling over until his head rested against my breasts and his arm was draped over my thighs. This was so unlike Bram, to seek physical comfort from me.

After my initial shock, I began to stroke the hair from his forehead. It was thick, slightly coarse with whatever he’d put in it to hold it in place. The lamplight made his fringe glint as if it was threaded with gold.

‘No matter how I broached my concerns,’ continued Bram, his voice deep, melodic, ‘Henry refused to offer a satisfactory explanation. Said his mind was made up, that he’ll enjoy the benefit of our combined wisdom.’

Resentment began to nibble at my resolve to remain mute.

‘Anyhow,’ sighed Bram. ‘It’s too late to do anything, the men have signed contracts.’

I halted my caresses. ‘Contracts I suppose Mr Irving had you draw up.’

Silence was my answer.

How dare Henry do this to Bram, deliberately undermine his position. First Mr Howson, now this. As for having Bram create the contracts, that was just Henry’s sneaky way of reminding Bram who had the real power. Bram might be acting manager, but he was also Henry’s factotum, hired to do his bidding, even if it meant employing others who would undermine him – worse, strip him of his dignity and authority.

Was this a further reaction to his Romeo being mocked? A way of reminding everyone that though he might not be young, he still pulled the strings at the theatre? Couldn’t Henry see that Bram wasn’t after power? He was no threat in that regard. Bram knew his place – much to my frustration. Everything he did, all the sacrifices he made, was so Henry could shine. Any ambition Bram possessed had been surrendered to Henry’s cause.

What I feared the moment I read those early reviews of Romeo and Juliet had happened: Henry blamed Bram. I wondered briefly how he’d make Ellen suffer. Then again, the critics had damned her with faint praise as well. Maybe he saw them both as having been wronged – not by his vanity, but because Bram hadn’t stopped him.

In many respects, this outcome was inevitable – a consequence of always kowtowing to Henry’s every wish. The man didn’t appreciate what Bram did, or give him any consideration when making decisions, even those that directly affected him. But, as Bram lay against me, and I continued to run my fingers through his hair, I couldn’t say this – it would only cause him further distress. I could scarce remember the last time he turned to me for solace. In fact, I couldn’t recall us ever sharing a moment like this. Intimate. Emotionally intimate. Perhaps I should be grateful to Henry for giving this to me.

Jesus wept. I didn’t want to be grateful to that man for anything.

It took all my self-control not to lift Bram’s head away, remove his arm so I might curl up and pull the covers over my head. I was sick and tired of how Henry managed to insert himself between me and my son or Bram and the child.

Only, this time, he may have blundered. No longer would it be just him and Bram (with yes-man Harry on the side), or the ‘unholy triumvirate’, as they were called. He’d have to balance five men’s needs and efforts to please him, their failures too.

‘I think Henry will regret this decision,’ I began cautiously. ‘How can he not if he hires a bunch of third-rate parasites to help him? You’ve done the work of ten men for years without fault. All you need to do, my dear, is remain as steadfast as you always have. Don’t let these new hires get under your skin. Henry will soon see the error of his ways and, when he does, it’ll return to how it has always been.’