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Chapter 2
Lavinia, dressed in men’s breeches,her red hair a tumble of curls down her back, stood center stage after the final scene ofThe Highwayman’s Prizeand bowed along with her fellow actors while the audience roared its approval, cheering and tossing flowers onstage.
Lavinia’s heart pounded within her chest like a wild thing trying to escape.
It was a physically demanding role, with intricate swordplay that she and Nicholas Randall, who played the hero, and George Babbitt, who played the villain, had rehearsed down to the finest detail: Lavinia’s character enters stage left just as the villain is about to finish off the wounded hero with a final sword thrust, her arrival distracting him from his evil deed. She fights valiantly against the villain as the hero struggles to his feet . . . and she strikes the villain down just in time. During all of this, Lavinia’s carefully hidden hair comes unbound in a glorious fall of red curls, and the hero realizes who she is at last and what she has done to save his life. In the end, they have saved each other, collapsing into a loving embrace . . . And curtain.
It was always a challenging scene to perform. George had been perfectlycast as the villain; he was a rake and a bully in real life, and Lavinia was constantly on her guard when he was around. On stage, he tended to beintentionally aggressive toward her.
Nicholas, on the other hand, was a little long in the tooth to play the romantic hero, but he was one of Hinchcliffe’s cronies, so there was nothing Lavinia had been able to do about it. The swordplay was too strenuous for him, and by the end of the scene, he was sweating and breathing hard and stinking of the onions he’d invariably had for supper. Lavinia’s best acting skill was always required at that particular moment, when she was to kiss Nicholas and look madly in love rather than repulsed as the curtain fell.
It was not the demanding nature of the scene and dealing with her fellow actors that caused Lavinia’s heart to pound now, however. It was the anticipation she felt knowing that after tonight, she would never have to kiss Nicholas Randall or dodge George Babbitt again.
The only safe place to kiss an actor, her father had always warned her,is on the stage.And there isn’t a safe place to kiss any other man.
The applause continued, so Lavinia, although in breeches, dropped into an elegant curtsy while George and Nick bowed alongside her.
“You best hurry along to your dressing room, Ruby, love,” George purred at her when they rose. “It would appear your admirers are in a particularly boisterous mood tonight. Best not to keep them waiting.”
“If it weren’t for Ruby’s admirers, George, the show would have closed and you’d be doing two-bit parts in the Cotswolds.” Nick sniffed. “I don’t see the ladies congregating outside your dressing room door.”
“They aren’t flocking outside yours either.”
Lavinia ignored them. Bickering like this was a common occurrence between the two men after each performance. There was always somethingone of them did to set the other off, considering the fragile egos at work here.
She hurried backstage to her dressing room. She must prepare for her next performance, the one in which she entertained and flirted and played coquette with the gentlemen who gathered outside her door with flowers and gifts each night.
Telling herself to be calm, she slipped into her dressing room.
“There you are, finally,” Hannah said. The older woman hurried over and assisted Lavinia out of her tailcoat. Lavinia had been but a child in leading strings when Hannah had come into her life. “I’m that glad you won’t be wearing these gent’s clothes again after tonight.” Hannah folded the tailcoat and placed it in the small bag that sat nearby as Lavinia worked at the buttons of her waistcoat. “What would your papa have said if he’d seen you dressed this way? Sit now so I can help you with them boots.”
“Papa would have said, ‘Hear, hear, my girl,’ especially as it has kept us from the poorhouse these past three years.” She sat in the chair and grabbed hold of the dressing table while Hannah crouched and tugged on the heel of Lavinia’s boot.
Hannah shook her head and grumbled under her breath as she set the first boot aside. “Not likely he would, despite what you said about the poorhouse bein’ true enough. ’Tisn’t right for a young miss to be prancing about in men’s breeches for all and sundry to see, lovey, and your papa would agree with me.”
“Oh, Hannah, I’m anactress, the daughter of an actor. He wouldn’t have batted an eye at this costume, and you know it.” She wriggled out of the waistcoat and began unbuttoning her breeches.
“Five minutes, Miss Chadwick,” a voice called following a brisk knock at the door. “And then I’m lettin’ ’em backstage.”
“Miss Chadwick this, Miss Chadwick that,” Hannah muttered as she folded the waistcoat and put it in the bag with the tailcoat. “I’ll be that glad to see Ruby Chadwick gone forever, and there’s a fact. I want my Livvy back, and it can’t happen soon enough for me. Hand me them breeches now.”
“And that time has arrived, has it not, Hannah? Ruby Chadwick will disappear after tonight. Poof! Just like that.” Lavinia snapped her fingers as she stepped into the burgundy velvet gown she’d chosen to wear tonight and wriggled into the sleeves and bodice. At least Hannah had made the gown with the fastenings in front for convenience. “Be a dear and help me fix my hair.”
“’Twon’t be a done thing until we’re well away from here.” Hannah picked up the brush from the dressing table and began running it through Lavinia’s curls while Lavinia finished with the fastenings and reached for her ruby earbobs and put them on. “And you with all them gents what won’t leave you be. I’m that nervous.”
Lavinia wouldnotthink about all that could go wrong tonight. “We’ll be fine; you’ll see. You remember the plan?”
Hannah nodded. “O’ course. I pack up what’s here, then I meet Artie out back round the corner away from all them gents gathered outside. Delia and Artie will have our belongings loaded into the rented post chaise at the house, and we meet you at the White Hart on the way out of London.”
“Not the White Hart, Hannah, the White—”
“Two minutes, Miss Chadwick,” the voice outside Lavinia’s dressing room door called again. “Then I’m unlocking the door for ’em.”
“WhiteHorse, Hannah. The White Horse. Quick now, the necklace.”
Hannah stuck the last pin in Lavinia’s hair, creating a loose collection of curls around her head. Then she removed the ruby necklace that matched the earbobs from their box.
Lavinia checked her appearance in the looking glass while Hannah fastened the clasp of the elaborate necklace. She hoped wearing the burgundy gown and jewelry wasn’t overdoing it, but it was important that she lookmemorablein her final performance as Ruby Chadwick, The Darling of Drury Lane. Her admirers—not to mention Alfred Hinchcliffe—would be less inclined to suspect her to make a dash for it if their last image of her was as the glittering darling of the theatre welcoming her many admirers.
