Page 25 of No Mistress Of Mine

“I’m not! But this is my first Shakespeare audition.”

“Ever?” When Lola nodded, Kitty’s answering glance held complete understanding. “A bit intimidating, what?”

“More than a bit.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation to hear praise from an old friend, I think you were head and shoulders above the rest.”

As gratifying as it was to hear that, it did little to ease her apprehensions.

“Where are you staying?”

Lola drew a deep breath, grateful for the distraction of Kitty’s conversation. “The Savoy. At least for now.”

“Heavens, I knew you’d become quite the thing in New York, but really, Lola! Staying at the Savoy?” Kitty stuck her pert nose impudently up in the air. “My word and la-di-da. I’m not sure you ought to be seen with the likes of me.”

“Oh, stop!” Lola protested, laughing. “I’m only there because it’s the most respectable hotel in the theater district, and I’m raising quite a few eyebrows by being there with only a maid. The staff thinks I’m quite depraved, I’m sure, and the maître d’hôtel looks down his nose whenever I go in the restaurant. I fear any moment, I’ll be deemed a shameless hussy and booted out because I’m giving the hotel a bad name. I’d welcome an alternative, but you know how London is.”

Kitty abandoned her impudent air and offered a sigh of commiseration in its place. “I know, I know, London’s awful. And it’s the season just now, which means even a garret comes dear. Only by a stroke of pure luck did I find rooms.”

“You’re living out? But what about your family?” She frowned in an effort of memory. “Don’t you have an aunt here?”

“Vile woman.” Kitty shuddered. “The sort who always has to remind you she did you a favor by taking you in. About a year ago, I decided I couldn’t stick it, so now I share a flat with another painter, Eloisa Montgomery, at a lodging house in Little Russell Street. A very respectable place, and just for women. No riffraff lounging about, and the omnibuses go right by. All meals in or not, as you like, and tea as well.”

Lola opened her mouth, but before she could ask if Kitty and her friend might be willing to rent her the use of the flat’s settee until she found lodgings of her own, the entire room went suddenly silent, and when she turned her head, she spied Denys standing in the doorway.

As he came in, anyone sitting immediately stood up, and anyone standing came to full attention, all rather as a well-trained regiment might do when the commanding officer arrived. Lola followed suit, though standing on ceremony with Denys seemed rather an alien concept to her.

I’ll take care of you.

That tender, well-intentioned reassurance of long ago shimmered through her consciousness like a whisper across the silent room. As if he’d heard it, too, Denys turned his head and looked at her, but there was nothing tender in his expression, and nothing the least bit encouraging. Lola’s stomach gave another nervous lurch.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, and looked away, glancing over the crowd as he moved out of the doorway to make room for Jacob Roth to enter. “We appreciate the time all of you have taken to audition today. We would like the following people to be here two weeks from today at nine o’clock for the table read ofOthello.Rehearsals will begin the following Monday. As for the rest of you, thank you very much for coming, and we encourage you to try out again next season.” Pausing, he lifted a clipboard in his hand and began to read a list of names. “Breckenridge, John. Fulbright, Edward. Ross, Elizabeth. Lovell, William...”

Lola closed her eyes. This was it, everything she’d been training for.

“Whitman, George. Cowell, Blackie...”

It might not happen. She was still a partner, of course, but that seemed little consolation right now.

“Saunders, Jamie. Breville, Henry. Maclean, Hugh.”

Suddenly, Denys stopped reading names, and Lola felt the silence like a boxer might feel a knockout blow.

Her name had not been called. Evidently, despite all Henry’s instruction and training, she still wasn’t ready.

The admission was a bitter one, but what else was there to do but accept it? She bit down on her lip against the stinging disappointment and forced her eyes open, only to find Denys looking straight at her.

“And lastly,” he said with a sigh, “Valentine, Lola.”

Surprise and relief came over her in a rush, and she didn’t know whether to jump for joy or throw up. Dizzy, she sank down on the bench, doubling over until her forehead hit her knees and sucking in great gasps of air.

Kitty leaned down beside her. “Told you so,” she murmured, then straightened away and reached for her valise. “I’ll call on you at the Savoy. What about tomorrow evening? We’ll have supper and a long visit.”

Without lifting her head, Lola nodded. “That sounds lovely,” she said, her voice muffled by her skirts.

“Right. I’ll be off, then.” With a congratulatory pat on the back, Kitty departed, but Lola remained where she was, breathing deep and trying to assimilate the fact that she finally had the chance she’d worked so hard for.

Voices—some buoyant, some dejected—eddied and faded as the actors began to depart. Lola waited until the room was silent before she sat up, but when she did, she discovered she was not the only one who had remained behind. Denys was still standing by the door.

---