Slammerkin - Emma Donoghue [177]
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 enough—'
'But we know he does love her by the end of the comedy,' objected Derby.
Mrs Damer shrugged. 'I don't believe it.'
'But that's what happens, my dear Mrs D.,' chipped in Major Arabin, 'and your douces charmes offer motive enough!'
Mrs Damer had two red spots on her cheekbones. 'I know that's what Mr Murphy wrote, but it rings false to me. How could a sensitive woman ever be happy with a husband like that?'
Several of the Players were looking at Eliza as if they expected her to intervene, but she didn't understand. At Drury Lane it was never like this, there wasn't enough time in the day. The very idea of arguing over whether a play was true or false to the human heart!
Derby broke the strained silence. 'That's enough toing and froing over this scene, surely,' he said. 'Should we have another go at the business in Act Three?'
Mrs Hobart sidled up to Mrs Damer. 'If something's amiss, if you're unhappy with your part, I could be prevailed upon—for your sake—to exchange it with the Widow Bellmour's—'
'Nonsense,' said Eliza, too sharply, 'Mrs Damer plays our heroine very well. Nothing's wrong. Is there?'
Mrs Damer put her hand over her mouth. Then she said, 'Do please be good enough to excuse me' and ran from the room.
Eliza's heart was thudding. What kind of manager was she, to make her leading actress flee the scene? She put her hand against her mouth, instinctively learning Mrs Damer's gesture: the pressure on her upper lip, the hot breath on her fingers. 'Well,' she said in as light a voice as she could manage, 'she must have remembered another engagement.'
'Remembered her past, you mean,' said Mrs Hobart with dark relish, flopping down in a pink-and-gilt chair.
In the silence Eliza felt a hammer knocking against her temples. She looked over at her mother, whose needle was motionless in the air.
'You could have had no idea, of course, Miss Farren,' said Derby, pulling up a chair for Eliza, 'as it was all over before you came to town.' His small eyes were dark with apology.
'What was?' she asked, too shrill. 'I know Mrs Damer's husband died young—'
Mrs Hobart let out a snort. 'They were unhappy from