Page 37 of With Good Grace
‘I assumed that you would, madam. Agnes is available to help with Master Tom if he has not settled by then.’
‘Thank you, Jane.’
Olivia was lucky to have Jane. She held Tom in genuine affection, valued her position and never gave a moment’s trouble—she was the perfectly discreet servant in all respects. Perhaps she would dismiss Molly, promote Jane to a permanent position as lady’s maid and find someone else to look after Tom. She would be more comfortable with that arrangement, Olivia decided as she took herself up to her chamber, and would give it serious consideration when the business with Hubert had been resolved.
?
It was still raining hard when Jake’s carriage deposited him at the stage door to the Adelphi Theatre. He told his coachman to wait for him and made his way inside, where a porter asked him his business. His gruff attitude became more deferential when Jake gave his name and asked to see Madame Céleste.
‘She’s busy right now, m’lord. She don’t normally see no one this close to curtain time. Can I say what your business is?’
‘Financial support,’ Jake replied, having anticipated the question.
‘Very well. We’ll see, if you wouldn’t mind waiting.’
A lad was despatched into the bowels of the theatre to seek out Madame. He returned a short time later and asked Jake if he would follow him. He did, unsurprised that Madame Céleste was willing to see him without an appointment. Men of Jake’s ilk had proven to be the generous benefactors of theatres or, more frequently, of its leading actresses. Jake had discovered that since Marcus Grantley’s demise no one else had become a regular supporter of Madame Céleste’s productions. That, presumably, was what had forced her to limit her repertoire to safer, more established works.
The lad led the way through a maze of passageways, along which busy-looking people bustled in both directions. He heard two female voices, raised in argument coming from what he assumed to be dressing rooms. Two actors dressed in doublets and hose approached them, practising lines for that night’s performance. One of them collided with Jake’s shoulder.
‘Watch where you’re going!’ he cried, glowering at Jake as though the accident had been his fault.
A stagehand called for clear passage as he barged alone with a ladder over his shoulder. Jake dived into an alcove before the tail end of the ladder crashed against his head. The lighting in the corridor was so poor, Jake was surprised the man could see where he was going. Every corner revealed more people in costume, all attempting to talk over one another, an air of nervous chaos pervading. He could hear distant sounds of the orchestra tuning up in the auditorium’s pit and a beautiful soprano voice practising a popular tune.
The lad finally stopped in front of a polished door, tapped on it and then turned the handle.
‘Lord Torbay, madam,’ he said, backing away so that Jake could enter a surprisingly elegant office. Just like Barber’s rather cramped premises, the walls of this office were also decorated with billboards, some of them showing Madame Céleste in her dancing days.
‘Lord Torbay. This is an unexpected pleasure.’
A small woman stood from behind a large desk, eyeing Jake speculatively. Jake had not met Madame Céleste before and knew that he was not doing so now. Madame must be approaching forty but this lady was a good decade younger than that and lacked the presencehe had learned to associate with actors in general. She seemed more harried and, judging by the piles of papers on the desk she sat behind, Jake assumed she filled some sort of administrative role. She spoke with a French accent.
‘Thank you for agreeing to see me,’ Jake replied. ‘You are not Madame Céleste.’
‘I am her long-time assistant and friend, Melanie DuBois.’
‘Miss DuBois.’ Jake inclined his head and waited for the lady to re-seat herself before taking the chair she indicated to him on the other side of her desk. ‘I had hoped to see Madame but I can already tell that I timed my visit badly.’
‘There are always emergencies that only Madame can resolve before any performance. Actors are such delicate creatures.’ She rolled her eyes to emphasise her point. Miss DuBois, Jake suspected, was anything but delicate and he was not fooled by her small stature and very average looks. ‘However, I understand you wished to speak with Madame about backing one of our productions. In which case, it is me you wish to see. I deal with that side of things.’
‘Then I am doubly glad to make your acquaintance, and shall not take up much of your time. I can see that you are busy and shall get straight to the point. Sir Hubert Grantley has gone missing and his wife has asked me to see if I can track him down.’
‘You do not wish to talk about backing?’ Miss DuBois’s expression hardened.
‘A small deception. Time, you understand, could be of the essence. If Sir Hubert is in danger then we cannot afford to waste a moment.’
‘Quite so.’ Her attitude softened. ‘I am very sorry to hear about Sir Hubert. I rather like him, but fail to see how I can be of help to you.’
‘Sir Hubert worked with his brother and represented a number of leading actors, I gather. Many of them performed here.’
‘That is true, but it was several years ago.’ She shook her head, and a shadow briefly flitted through her eyes. ‘In happier times.’
‘You did not remain on friendly terms with Sir Hubert after Grantley’s death?’
‘Sir Hubert and I had little to do with one another.’ She fiddled with a paperknife and focused her gaze on the surface of her desk. ‘My dealings were with his brother. I have worked with Madame since I was seventeen; initially as a dresser but slowly I made myself indispensable and now she cannot manage without me. Artistes of Madame’s remarkable talent do not need to worry themselves over the minutiae of running a theatre. Marcus Grantley appreciated that, shared Madame’s desire to be more adventurous with the productions she staged and, in short, put his money forward to make it possible.’
And, unless Jake missed his guess, this mousy yet rather passionate creature and Grantley were more than mere friends. A melancholy engulfed her when she spoke of Marcus that she made no attempt to mask.
‘Grantley’s management company was sold to a man by the name of Barber and all of Grantley’s actors remained loyal. I have met Barber and cannot persuade myself that he has the same magnetism as Grantley, to say nothing of the fact that he does not put money into your productions so has no real sway with the casting.’
