[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
her. "You have been a rock," he said simply.
"It's my job to care for the sick, sir, and it was my
pleasure." She took a dainty sip at her brandy. "Tell me,
who was that saucebox at the door then?"
Spoken from the Heart - 235
"He was from the theater," Julian said. "He wanted --
oh!" He sprang to his feet.
"Master Julian?"
"Alex is safe, yes?"
"I would say so, Lady willing--"
"And he will sleep for the next, oh, four hours, you
think?"
"He'll sleep the night through, if I'm any judge."
"Then I can go!" Julian said, triumph filling him. "I
can take Patrick's part and all will be well."
"As to that--"
Julian swooped down and kissed her bewildered face.
"Dear lady, I will be back as soon as I'm able, I swear it.
Take care of him for me, I pray."
He ran, fleet of foot, his heart singing, to the Pinnacle,
picturing his rapturous welcome, the storm of applause
that would greet him from a sympathetic audience.
Understudies who stepped in at the last moment were
given the warmest of receptions, any small mistakes
glossed over and forgiven -- but he would make none!
He reached the great doors at the front where the
public entered and found them barred, a crowd before
them milling about purposelessly, their voices loud and
angry.
Julian winced. Ah, well, the doors would open soon
enough&
He made his way around to the back and slipped
through the door into the backstage area, crowded with
people. Faces turned to him, and silence fell, spreading
like a dark shadow.
"I'm here," Julian said, and knew it wasn't enough.
"We -- we can open."
The crowd of actors and stagehands parted to allow
Sampton through.
Spoken from the Heart - 236
"Can we, indeed. Tell me, Master Meville, how do
you propose we do that when the duke has closed us for
a month as a penalty for disappointing his daughter?"
A month? Julian shook his head in a denial as
fruitless as his race to the theater. "He will reconsider,
see how unjust that is--"
"He's the duke of Sorrent!" Sampton roared, in a
voice that could fill a theater with a whisper. It was
painful to be so close to such a bellow." He doesn't have
to do anything if it doesn't please him to do so. You've
ruined us with your lovesick simperings, you fool." He
gave Julian a look that could have turned milk sour.
"Your country boy with the sweet eyes and the shy smile.
Your little Pippin." He made the name sound cloyingly,
nauseatingly sentimental. "I hope he's dead, and I wish
you were with him."
"You dare ill-wish him so?" Anger, as hot as fire and
dark as night swelled within Julian, a monstrous growth.
He drove his fist at Sampton's jaw and winced when his
knuckles cracked against bone. Sampton swayed but
didn't fall, his hand flying up to his face." He lives! The
Lady blessed him and he lives. That matters more to me
than the duke's anger or yours."
"More to you than us going without wages for a
month?" called a man from the crowd. He pushed his
way through to stand by Sampton. It was Richard
Tennant, an actor whose strength lay in his forgettable
face, allowing him to play several roles within the same
play after a change of costume or a different wig and not
be recognized by the audience. Julian had always
counted him as a friend, if only because they'd known
each other for years without disagreeing. Richard's face
was twisted into an ugly scowl now. "Darkness take you,
Melville! The Lady didn't need you there to save the lad.
Spoken from the Heart - 237
I'm not sorry he lives -- I liked him -- but you belonged
here, with us."
The chorus of agreement that followed shook Julian's
conviction that he'd made the right choice, but it was
done and nothing could change it.
"I belonged where I could save the life of someone
dear to me. He needed me. If I'd left it's possible he
would have faded--" He was losing them, he could tell.
Julian had always been able to gauge the mood of an
audience with exquisite accuracy, and influence it,
within limits, but these were his people and they knew
all his tricks.
"I'm sorry," he said, and hoped the simple truth
would win them over. "I meant none of this. I came as
soon as I could." He tried a rueful smile. "I hadn't
realized how indispensable I was. Could no one but me
have stepped into Patrick's shoes? They must be larger
than he thinks."
The attempt at humor and deflecting some of the
blame was clumsily done. At any other time, Patrick's
failure to show up would have earned him scorn, if not
outright hostility, but there was enough lingering
sympathy for him to prevent that.
Julian looked from face to face, seeing anger,
disappointment, and disgust. Duncan stood apart from
the rest, his arms folded across his chest, his face
shadowed. Maybe he wasn't ready to join in with
damning Julian, but he hadn't chosen to stand beside him
either.
"The leading role? How could anyone but you
perform it?" Sarcasm lay heavy on Sampton's words.
"Such a high opinion of yourself& but maybe when the
time came to prove your ability, you found your
Spoken from the Heart - 238
confidence lacking, hmm? Did we go dark to spare your
blushes?"
It was so unexpected an accusation that Julian
floundered for a reply. So ridiculous, too. As if he'd ever
doubted himself as an actor! Why, when he'd heard what
was on offer, he'd wanted nothing more than the chance
to play King Henry. It was concern for Alex, nothing
else, that had made his refusal the only choice.
"No, that's simply not the--"
"You're right," Richard said. Julian glared at him. "So
he gets stage fright and we pay for it."
"I have never--"
Richard advanced on him, making Julian take a quick
step back. He'd never realized it before, but Richard was
a burly man, an inch taller than he, with hands that
seemed larger when they were doubled up into fists.
"I've got children to feed," Richard said softly, "you
puffed-up, pompous coward."
"And I've brought the audiences in that meant they
had meat on the table, not just bread and cheese." He
would not back down, would not retreat an inch.
Richard's fist plowed into his get, making him retch
as he fought for air, bent in half like a hairpin. It hurt.
Hurt his stomach, hurt his pride. Eyes watering, still
making sounds that distressed his ears they were so
uncontrolled, so lacking in dignity, he swung his fist at
Richard.
He missed.
Richard grinned, wide and bright. "Thought you
could hold your own in a fight, Master Melville. Was
that just the ale talking, then?"
Julian could vaguely remember telling Richard once
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]