Half Moon Street - Anne Perry [128]
She remembered with a stab that he had no children, and he was far too young to regard either of her daughters in that light. He might have had children, if he had married someone younger. She forced that thought away. This was no time for pity of any sort, least of all self-pity, or for doubt where he had given her cause for none.
“It’s not always easy,” she replied frankly. “You can envy them their youth, and be exasperated by it. And you agonize for their mistakes, especially when you can see them even at the time. And of course you never cease to feel guilt for everything they do that turns out badly. Every flaw of character is directly attributable to something you did . . . or failed to do, or did the wrong way, or at the wrong time.”
He put his arm around her. “Come! We’ll go and congratulate Cecily . . . and commiserate with her—or whatever seems best.” But he was smiling as he said it, and the faint lines had eased out from around his mouth.
The dressing room was already crowded when they arrived, but this time Orlando was not there. He was the center now, not peripheral to his mother’s star.
Cecily stood with her back to the dressing table and the looking glass. She was still wearing the gorgeous gown from the last act. Her face was radiant, her fair hair spreading a halo around her. At first glance Caroline thought she was miscast as Hamlet’s mother; she looked too young, too vibrant. Then she remembered with a jolt that Cecily was in life Orlando’s mother, so she could not be wrong, except to the imagination.
Lord Warriner was not there this time. It was as if he had chosen deliberately to distance himself from the theatre for a while, or at least from Cecily. Two other minor players stood at the edge of the center looking tired and happy. A woman in a black gown and a magnificent diamond necklace was enthusiastic, and a middle-aged man with ribbons on his chest was agreeing with her.
Cecily saw Joshua almost immediately.
“Darling!” She came forward, arms wide to embrace him. “I’m so glad you could be here. Did you catch the end?” She allowed him to kiss her on both cheeks before she stepped back and acknowledged Caroline. “And Mrs. Fielding . . . Caroline, isn’t it? How generous of you to come as well.”
“Generosity had nothing to do with it,” Caroline replied with a smile she hoped was warmer than she felt. “I came because I wished to . . . for myself . . . from the beginning. And I am delighted I did. It is by far the best Hamlet I have ever seen.”
Cecily’s eyes widened. She hesitated only a moment. “Really? And have you seen so many?”
Caroline kept her smile sparklingly in place. “Certainly. From the schoolroom onward. Almost every actor who is remotely suitable has played him at one time or another, and some who are not. I daresay I have seen twenty or more. Your son brought a new life and truth to it. You must be very proud of him.”
“Of course. How kind of you to say so.” Cecily turned back to Joshua. “He was rather marvelous, wasn’t he? It is the strangest sensation to see your own child begin his first stumbling performance, then progress to minor parts on stage, and ultimately have the whole theatre at his feet.” She gave a slight laugh. “Can you imagine how I feel?”
Caroline saw the shadow in Joshua’s face only for an instant. A week ago she might have felt crushed by it for her own inability to give Joshua children. Tonight she felt only anger that Cecily should have chosen to defend herself by hurting him this way.
Before Joshua could reply she stepped in.
“It is always surprising to find one’s children have grown up,” she said sweetly. “And that quite suddenly they can outshine you in the very area in which you thought yourself always superior . . .”
Cecily’s face froze.
“But of course you are thrilled for them,” Caroline continued blithely. “How could one not be? Apart from