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‘Yes,’ Maude nodded, wondering what this was about.
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sp; ‘And I also told you that this lady, Sarah Millington, almost became your godmother?’ Maude nodded. ‘Well, my dear. It seems she has left you a legacy and one that I think will startle you as much as it has me.’ Lord Pangbourne lifted a packet from the drawer and unfolded a sheet from the top. ‘Here. Read for yourself.’
It was an extract from a will, copied in a heavy black hand. Maude tilted the page to catch the light from the window and read.
To Maude Augusta Edith Templeton, only child of my beloved friend Marietta Templeton, Countess of Pangbourne, née Masters, I leave the freehold and all the curtilage, appurtenances and rents of the property known as the Unicorn Theatre, Long Acre, London…
Maude read it again, half-convinced she was seeing things. But, no—she was the owner of the Unicorn Theatre. Eden’s theatre. Her hands shook as she refolded the paper, trying to imagine what this was going to mean.
Chapter Eighteen
‘But how on earth did she come to own the Unicorn?’ Maude asked, emerging from her muddled thoughts.
‘Sarah Millington, as a young woman, left her respectable home to go on the stage. A scandalous thing, of course, but I suspect there was some sad story behind it—a seduction, perhaps.’ Lord Pangbourne settled into his chair, his expression unfocused as though he was looking back down the years. ‘Your mother, before I was courting her, was stage-struck. She wanted to act and of course, that was quite impossible. But she found ways to meet actors and actresses, Sarah amongst them.
‘Sarah became a great friend, but she never forgave herself that she introduced Marietta to a certain young actor and that they fell in love. Naturally, it was quite hopeless. They tried to elope, were caught at Hatfield, and to prevent a scandal her father sent her away to his aunt in Wales. The young man was killed the following year in an accident with falling scenery and Marietta was allowed back to London, where we met. I courted her and she agreed to marry me.’
‘I thought…you always seemed so much in love,’ Maude ventured. Poor Mama! How would I feel if I was dragged away from Eden, just when we thought we were safe? How had she heard the news of his death, so far away from her?
‘I believe we were, although I never fooled myself that I was the great love of her life,’ her father said, smiling ruefully. ‘We were very happy, and when you arrived, even happier. Anyway, your mother kept in touch with Sarah, but after the near scandal they were very discreet, even after our marriage. Unlike many actresses Sarah was careful with her money, retired at the peak of her modest success and bought property. The Unicorn was one of her purchases.’
‘It wasn’t the theatre where the young actor was killed?’ Maude asked, suddenly chilled. If I have been standing on the very stage where Mama’s love died…
‘No.’ Her father shook his head. ‘No, I do not think I would be comfortable there either, if that were the case. He was on tour—Norwich, I think. But he acted at the Unicorn, often. That was where your mama first saw him.’ He gave himself a little shake and seemed to come back entirely into the present. ‘You see why I was not entirely surprised at your interest in the theatre and why I was not inclined to forbid it to you?’
‘Many other parents would have seen it as exactly the reason to forbid me,’ Maude observed, thinking how very fortunate she was in her father.
‘I do not expect you to fall in love with an actor,’ Lord Pangbourne said with a smile. ‘You are far less sheltered than your mama, you have met many more gentlemen and you are old enough not to have fairytale dreams, I am sure.’
Oh, indeed, this was not a fairytale! Maude glanced at the clock. There was an hour before she could reasonably set out to the Unicorn, time to think.
‘You will sell to Hurst,’ her father observed. ‘He’ll be delighted. But talk to Benson, make certain the price is right. This is business, not friendship.’
‘Yes, Papa. Perhaps I will. Although the rent would be useful.’ Oddly, one part of her could discuss this rationally while the other was confused and uncertain.
Her instinctive reaction was against the idea of selling the Unicorn. She loved it, partly because it was Eden’s passion, partly for some atmosphere of its own. And now it was hers. If she married Eden, it would become his, along with all her property, of course, that was the way the law worked. A stab of anxiety warned her that it was a powerful incentive for him to marry her. Part of her did not want to believe that it might influence him, part knew that she was dealing with a man who had grown up rejecting love, focused only on his ambitions. She must not tell him until she had spoken to him today about her feelings.
But then she would be deceiving him by keeping the knowledge of something so important to him secret. Or she could to sell it to him first and then speak of her love…
But she did not want to sell it. Somehow that theatre had dug itself under her skin and into her affections. And it would have had such emotional resonance for Mama: that was why Sarah had left it to Marietta’s daughter. Mama would not have wanted her to sell it, to lose that link to her first love. Yet, she would have wanted Maude to be happy with the man she loved.
But Eden was more important. More important than anything, surely? And he wanted the Unicorn with a passion. And she loved him—so shouldn’t she give him what he wanted, unconditionally? Confused, Maude opened the copy of the will and stared at it again as thought the black letters would somehow tell her what to do, what was right. They were absolutely no help whatsoever. One thing she knew: she could not see him today, not with the shock of this so fresh in her mind.
‘I want to go down to Knight’s Fee, Papa,’ she said, suddenly certain that she must get away. ‘I’ve been overdoing it, I feel tired. I’ll go down this afternoon, if you don’t mind.’
‘Of course, my dear.’ He smiled his understanding, leaning across to pat her hand. ‘I expect this story about your mother has upset you a little. How long will you stay?’
‘Just a few days—until Tuesday, perhaps.’ That would give her time, surely, to decide what to do. She could not take any more, not with the Musicale looming in only eight days’ time. ‘I’ll go and write to the committee, let them know where I am.’ And, somehow, manage a note to Eden to account for her absence when it had been obvious that he had wanted to speak to her seriously about something. The excuse of her health would convince him, however reluctant she was to deceive him.
...and so I think the sensible thing is to go down to the country for a few days and rest and get some fresh air. I will be back on Tuesday next week, so do not think I have abandoned you and the Musicale entirely! Maude.
Eden looked down at the note, fighting the irrational disappointment. He had wanted to see Maude because he was going to do the sensible, honourable, thing and tell her that he was becoming too fond of her for prudence and that after the Musicale, they should keep a greater distance. And here she was, distancing herself. Excellent. That was what he told himself. But it was not true, of course. He should do what was right for Maude, yet he simply wanted to be with her, and to hell with the risks of that proximity.
And yet this note did not ring true. Yes, he could believe that she was tired, perhaps even unwell. Yesterday he had wanted to hold her in his arms, he had wanted the right to carry her to her bed, tuck her up, pamper and coddle her until the roses were back in her cheeks and she was answering him back with her usual spirit. But if she was unwell, it was not because she had been overdoing things. Maude Templeton was perfectly capable of dancing ’til dawn every night of the week. There was something wrong and he knew, in his heart, that it was to do with him.
Eden studied the abrupt signature. There were tiny marks on the paper as though she had made several false starts at ending the note. What had she almost said? Had she been on the point of sending him her love? His hand clenched around the note, crumpling it as he sneered at himself for such a foolish dream. More likely Maude had wrestled with endings that would show her desire to set a proper distance between them, had failed to find something suitable and had simply put her name.
