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Cousin Stephen, beside him, seemed more curious than outraged. He had a kind face, she decided. She was definitely bolstered by the fact that he seemed far less concerned by having a trespassing eavesdropper tumble into his midst than her father.
“You will return home this instant, and you will not be allowed outside for a week unless it’s to do the errands demanded of you, do you understand?”
Her father, purple with rage, spoke with difficulty. An image of Hetty and Araminta, his natural-born, cosseted daughters, both of whom had scandalized society and brought shame upon the family by eloping with dangerous, unsuitable men, appeared before her. They were much the same age as she, and yet they did not suffer the myriad ignominies Kitty did every day. They had fine clothes paid for by their father, while Kitty got their castoffs. They got to dance the night away at London’s grand balls and rub shoulders with dukes and duchesses every night of the week, while Kitty rubbed her mother’s chilblains.
All the painful indignities of her eighteen years rose up to give her the courage to say, “I will not, Papa, for I am going to London. Yes, I’m going to London to become an actress, and even if you lock me in my room for a week you cannot keep me there forever. I am weary of this life where I’m nothing, looked down upon by all the villagers. I won’t do it any longer! When you next hear of me, it shall be as the celebrated actress, Kitty La Bijou, and all London will be talking of me as the most beautiful, talented woman in the country. Yes, you might be scandalized, but at least I will be appreciated by somebody.”
Chapter Two
Kitty glanced up at the flaking wooden door in the laneway and then down at her fashionable fuller skirts—well, they were fashionable last year, and she was not, after all, trying to compete with society but with the other hopeful actresses who sought to land the lead role in this production of Romeo and Juliet. Unlike her mother or Lissa, Kitty wasn’t good with a needle and thread, otherwise she’d have worked magic and turned her gown into the height of fashion.
She’d been delighted when Lissa had proudly spurned it. If the beautiful, discerning Araminta considered it too ‘last season’ and had discarded it, then Lissa would not wear it either. Besides, she’d declared, why would she need fine gowns when she was merely a governess to the Lamont family in London? Serviceable serge and cotton would do well enough while she was proving to the world that she was a more worthwhile creature than the cosseted Araminta and Hetty. At least, that’s how Kitty interpreted her sister’s indignant response.
Kitty, by contrast, was more than happy to wear Araminta’s castoffs. They would serve her well in the theater where she was confident she’d meet her heart’s desire—the gentleman whom she’d know with the exchange of a single smoldering, impassioned look. This scion of the nobility would pluck her from her lowly status, recognize her worth, brand her his, and ultimately make her his wife. It had all been prophesied, and Kitty was looking forward to lording her newfound status over Miss Araminta Partington, whom she was determined would not only notice her, but desire above all to swap places.
For now, Araminta did not even know Kitty existed.
But she soon would.
And when Miss Kitty La Bijou was a name on everyone’s lips, she’d find Lissa, who was so unhappy in her London job, and loathed lazy Mrs. Lamont who believed herself so much grander than she was, and spoiled Miss Maria, who was embarking upon her first season with all the airs of a duch
ess ‘though she’d be lucky to snare a clerk,’ according to Lissa. Kitty would also like to teach a lesson to Mr. and Mrs. Lamont’s son, Master Cosmo, who, Lissa had written, wanted Lissa to paint portraits for him of society personages which he then passed off as his own.
Lissa’s last letter, however, had been very mysterious. She’d left the Lamont household to live with a dressmaker where she continued her sketches, from what Kitty could gather, though how she could keep body and soul together in such employment was a mystery.
The strangest thing was that Lissa had left no forwarding address.
Not that Kitty was relying on staying with Lissa which, of course, would not have been possible anyway. She’d already forged a plan having made her presence known to Mr. Lazarus, the director of The Taming of the Shrew, which was doing a number of performances in their little village before it went to the next county. Mr. Lazarus had looked her up and down in a very appraising way, Kitty thought. He’d then invited her to sit down and offered her biscuits and Madeira, something she’d never tried before and which made her feel quite lightheaded, and at the end of a very heartening conversation, he’d given her a very stylish London address where she could find lodging. She knew it must be stylish because Mr. Lazarus was a very smart gentleman, if a touch flamboyant with his green felt hat and loudly-patterned waistcoat. But he was the man in charge, and he decided who would act in his plays and which actresses would take a lead role, their ticket to fame and glory. So when he smiled his very white smile, and smoothed his sideburns in evident satisfaction at the well-put-together package Kitty had tried to present to him, she knew she’d surmounted the first obstacle.
Of course, her plan to become an actress in London was a huge secret she’d had to keep from her mother. She’d worked very hard at home, helping with the baby and household chores during the past two weeks, hoping to make up in some small measure for the subsequent loss of her services, which her mother could not know about beforehand.
Kitty and her mother were not close, and the baby was docile. Besides, why should Lissa be allowed to escape to a life far more exciting than village life—even if she hated being a governess—while Kitty, only a year younger and who dreamed of the excitement of the metropolis, was denied such opportunities?
Now, as Kitty waited on the doorstep for the response to her knock she felt a twinge of uneasiness for the first time, for the neighborhood didn’t look respectable at all; though just because one was poor didn’t mean one wasn’t respectable, she knew that very well.
From behind the door, came a shuffling and a loud and repeated clearing of the throat before a sharp nose emerged between the small crack that opened and a reedy voice demanded, “What’s yer bizness for I ain’t in the market for moldy taties, last week’s fish or anythin’ else, missie?”
Surprised, Kitty replied, “Mr. Lazarus gave me your address, ma’am. I beg your pardon, but I thought you were expecting me.”
“Ah, Miss La Bijou, is it? Why, I bin expectin’ yer two days ‘n more. Come in, lovey. Come in.”
The warmth and welcome in her tone made up for its former sharpness, and gratefully Kitty entered the dim, narrow passage along which she was led. She was only able to see the woman properly when they entered a tiny parlor where a sliver of light penetrated the dirty windows.
Crossing her arms upon her ample breasts, the woman turned to inspect her from the rag rug in the center of the room. “My but ain’t yer a beauty? The eye o’ Mr. Lazarus is a discernin’ ‘un ‘n the toast o’ London is what ‘e predicted yer’d be. Ain’t that the truth?”
Kitty’s glow of pleasure helped to dissipate, slightly, the distaste she felt at the evidence of neglect. Mrs. Mobbs was clearly not a particularly assiduous housekeeper, for dust coated the windowsills and spider webs festooned the low ceiling between the beams. Kitty’s mother was fastidious about such matters, which brought a pang for what she’d done. Her mother would be frantic with worry. Kitty only hoped the letter she’d left would be sufficiently reassuring. She’d told her she was going to visit Lissa, who would look after her and introduce her to some respectable families where she might find some work, and she’d promised to send home a portion of her wages every month.
Unfortunately, Kitty still had no idea where Lissa lived, but she did intend finding a job that would pay much more handsomely than governessing, and she really did intend sending home funds. Her father always had complained how expensive it was to keep so many children.
“So dearie, Mr. Lazarus is very pleased indeed that yer ‘ave ‘onored ‘im wiv yer desire ter grace ‘is illustrious theater wiv yer talent ‘n beauty.” Mrs. Mobbs sat on a dusty chair by the unlit fire and indicated a rickety piece of furniture beside her. As Kitty lowered herself gingerly, Mrs. Mobbs leaned across and picked up her hand. This made Kitty highly uncomfortable, but not wishing to offend, as she presumed this was how London people showed their hospitality, she allowed the woman to stroke her fingers. Mrs. Mobbs looked her up and down. “Well-nourished yer are, wiv a very sought-after beauty, indeed,” she said approvingly, replacing Kitty’s hand in her lap. “Mr. Lazarus ain’t keen on these half-starved waifs who faint on stage. But ‘e’s seen yer fer ‘imself ‘n don’t need me ter do ‘is assessin’ fer ’im, ain’t that so?”
Kitty nodded, not sure how to respond.
“So yer’ve left yer family wiv their blessin’ no doubt, ‘n now yer goin’ ter take all London by storm? That’s the idea, eh, dearie?”
Kitty blushed. “I ran away,” she admitted. The walls were very thin, and she hated the idea of her shame being transmitted to the neighbors whom she could hear arguing in the adjoining dwelling.
“Ran away, did yer?” To Kitty’s surprise, Mrs. Mobbs sounded approving. “That shows courage. Yes, a love o’ adventure makes yer jest right fer the stage. Me uvver young miss stayin’ wiv me ‘ere ‘asn’t quite yer spark o’ adventure. She’s destined fer uvver work. I’ll call ‘er now so yer can meet the lass. A real country miss, yer’ll find. Can ‘ardly make out a word she says, but she’ll learn London ways soon enough. Dorcas! Come ‘n join us, dearie. I’ve found a friend fer yer.”
