consulting the smeared print of her programme. 'The crowds are still pushing in for the ballooning piece.'
Walpole trembled to his feet. 'While I'd very much like to experience aerial locomotion before I die, I've no wish to watch it mimed on stage and it's near midnight. Fairies, let's away.'
Derby's footman went ahead to clear them a passage through the packed corridors.
L ADY M ARY was all blithe humour and never meddled with the preparations for the theatricals at Richmond House, Eliza noticed, but she never let them put her out either. One night, when the dining room was full of props and scenery, she went down to the steward's room quietly and ate her supper there. Eliza was studying the Duchess's serene self-containment; there was a trick Lady Mary had, of smiling beatifically as she said something critical, which Eliza was memorising to use on stage.
Mrs Damer couldn't have been more different from her sister. Well, they had different fathers, after all; Anne Damer was said to take after hers, the veteran soldier and politician Field Marshal Conway. She could be tactful, but also startlingly frank. The sculptor struck Eliza as a natural for tragedy, with her tireless vitality, her bony hands and long diamond-cut face. Unfortunately, The Way to Keep Him was a comedy.
'Say the line for me, would you, Miss Farren?' asked Mrs Damer.
Eliza hadn't got enough sleep after her Ben and her head was aching. There were still all the comic servant scenes to run through; Sir Harry and Mrs Bruce hadn't spoken a line yet today. She sat down at Mrs Lovemore's imaginary tea table, in the corner of the pink saloon, and began with a careless shrug. 'This trash of tea! I don't know why I drink so much of it. Heigho!' Major Arabin clapped; Eliza ignored him.
'Oh, I see,' said Mrs Damer. 'I never knew quite how to do the Heigho.'
Behind them, Dick Edgcumbe failed to suppress a yawn; Mrs Hobart was lecturing Mrs Blouse on hairstyles in a whisper.
'Lighter, simpler, that's what you must remember,' said Eliza. 'From the top—'
This time Mrs Damer began merrily enough with the tea line, but then sank into lugubriousness on 'Surely never was an unhappy woman treated with such cruel indifference.'
'The audience must pity you, but don't give way to self-pity,' Eliza told her, 'and for sorrow, by the way, one touches the right hand to one's heart, not the left.'
Mrs Damer switched hands, frowning in concentration. 'I care not what they say. I am tired of the World, and the World may be tired of me, if it will.' Her tone was guarded, almost bitter.
Eliza nodded. When this woman got it right, she could act the rest of the Richmond House Players off the stage. 'Now let's try your transformation scene.'
The others leafed through their parts, but Mrs Damer simply closed her eyes for a moment to summon up the lines, then took up position down front. 'Adieu to melancholy, and welcome pleasure, wit and gaiety,'she. pronounced, sardonic. She marched from side to side of the saloon, singing 'La, la, la. The effect was oddly intimidating.
Eliza took a breath. 'Might I ask you to stroll rather more slowly and more flirtatiously?'
'With whom should I flirt?'
'With no one in particular; with the air. And you could seem more gay.'
'But Mrs Lovemore's not really gay,' said Mrs Damer, confused.
'Of course not, but we assume that, being an intelligent woman, she does a good job of acting it.'
Mrs Damer hesitated. 'I don't know that intelligence is enough. I'm sure she tries, but with her heart so full of rage and shame—'
'Shame?' asked Eliza. She realised that the background gossip had stopped; the other Players were watching, like a silent chorus.
'Yes,' said Mrs Damer, 'mortification that she must pose as a shallow lady of the town to win back the love of Mr Lovemore, who doesn't deserve her! That she must contradict her true sensibility, act a mad pantomime, all for a man who'll never be content, never think she's amusing enough, easy
Walpole trembled to his feet. 'While I'd very much like to experience aerial locomotion before I die, I've no wish to watch it mimed on stage and it's near midnight. Fairies, let's away.'
Derby's footman went ahead to clear them a passage through the packed corridors.
L ADY M ARY was all blithe humour and never meddled with the preparations for the theatricals at Richmond House, Eliza noticed, but she never let them put her out either. One night, when the dining room was full of props and scenery, she went down to the steward's room quietly and ate her supper there. Eliza was studying the Duchess's serene self-containment; there was a trick Lady Mary had, of smiling beatifically as she said something critical, which Eliza was memorising to use on stage.
Mrs Damer couldn't have been more different from her sister. Well, they had different fathers, after all; Anne Damer was said to take after hers, the veteran soldier and politician Field Marshal Conway. She could be tactful, but also startlingly frank. The sculptor struck Eliza as a natural for tragedy, with her tireless vitality, her bony hands and long diamond-cut face. Unfortunately, The Way to Keep Him was a comedy.
'Say the line for me, would you, Miss Farren?' asked Mrs Damer.
Eliza hadn't got enough sleep after her Ben and her head was aching. There were still all the comic servant scenes to run through; Sir Harry and Mrs Bruce hadn't spoken a line yet today. She sat down at Mrs Lovemore's imaginary tea table, in the corner of the pink saloon, and began with a careless shrug. 'This trash of tea! I don't know why I drink so much of it. Heigho!' Major Arabin clapped; Eliza ignored him.
'Oh, I see,' said Mrs Damer. 'I never knew quite how to do the Heigho.'
Behind them, Dick Edgcumbe failed to suppress a yawn; Mrs Hobart was lecturing Mrs Blouse on hairstyles in a whisper.
'Lighter, simpler, that's what you must remember,' said Eliza. 'From the top—'
This time Mrs Damer began merrily enough with the tea line, but then sank into lugubriousness on 'Surely never was an unhappy woman treated with such cruel indifference.'
'The audience must pity you, but don't give way to self-pity,' Eliza told her, 'and for sorrow, by the way, one touches the right hand to one's heart, not the left.'
Mrs Damer switched hands, frowning in concentration. 'I care not what they say. I am tired of the World, and the World may be tired of me, if it will.' Her tone was guarded, almost bitter.
Eliza nodded. When this woman got it right, she could act the rest of the Richmond House Players off the stage. 'Now let's try your transformation scene.'
The others leafed through their parts, but Mrs Damer simply closed her eyes for a moment to summon up the lines, then took up position down front. 'Adieu to melancholy, and welcome pleasure, wit and gaiety,'she. pronounced, sardonic. She marched from side to side of the saloon, singing 'La, la, la. The effect was oddly intimidating.
Eliza took a breath. 'Might I ask you to stroll rather more slowly and more flirtatiously?'
'With whom should I flirt?'
'With no one in particular; with the air. And you could seem more gay.'
'But Mrs Lovemore's not really gay,' said Mrs Damer, confused.
'Of course not, but we assume that, being an intelligent woman, she does a good job of acting it.'
Mrs Damer hesitated. 'I don't know that intelligence is enough. I'm sure she tries, but with her heart so full of rage and shame—'
'Shame?' asked Eliza. She realised that the background gossip had stopped; the other Players were watching, like a silent chorus.
'Yes,' said Mrs Damer, 'mortification that she must pose as a shallow lady of the town to win back the love of Mr Lovemore, who doesn't deserve her! That she must contradict her true sensibility, act a mad pantomime, all for a man who'll never be content, never think she's amusing enough, easy
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