Page 38 of With Good Grace
‘That is true, but I cannot see how that information will help you to find Sir Hubert.’
Nor could Jake…yet. ‘You were instrumental in ensuring the best actors headed towards Marcus Grantley for representation,’ Jake said, following his instincts, even though he had nothing concrete upon which to base that assumption.
‘Whatever makes you suppose that?’ Miss DuBois asked, her head shooting up. An element of fear filtered through her eyes that told Jake he had got it right.
‘Mrs Grantley was accused of killing her husband. I had the privilege of saving her from an appointment with the hangman.’
‘Of course. I remember that now. That is why your name sounded familiar.’ But Jake was fairly sure she had known it from the first, and curiosity persuaded her to receive him; that and the possibility of backing, which she could not afford to ignore. ‘What does Sir Hubert’s disappearance have to do with Mrs Grantley?’
‘Perhaps nothing, but I am persuaded that his disappearancedoeshave something to do with this theatre and his work with his brother.’
Miss DuBois had regained her composure and treated Jake to a cold look. ‘I fail to see how.’
‘Mrs Grantley has been forced by Sir Hubert’s disappearance to look through her husband’s papers; something she had thus far avoided doing.’
A flare of anxiety briefly lit her expression but she had better control of herself now and quickly tamped it down. ‘She found something that brought you to my door.’
It was not a question and Jake merely nodded, waiting to see what response that would elicit. A silence lengthened between them; heavy and expectant, and Jake had not the slightest intention of breaking it. Miss DuBois held his gaze, apparently trying to assess what he thought he knew, or how much to reveal.
‘Actors are a fragile breed,’ she said at last. ‘They need constant reassurance, which is where people like Marcus came in. But more than anything, they need someone like Madame who is in a position to promote their talents. She does not have the time or inclination to soothe their ruffled feathers and it is part of my duties to ensure these things are managed with as little inconvenience to Madame as possible.’
‘As you said earlier, she does not have the patience for details.’
Miss DuBois inclined her head. ‘That is not precisely what I said, but close enough.’
‘You need the best actors at your disposal,’ Jake replied, rubbing two fingers speculatively through the cleft in his chin. ‘Having them in one stable, managed by a person who understands their delicate egos, makes life easier for you and the manager of that stable. And all the while Grantley was backing Madame’s productions, you were able to be of service to one another.’ He resting a probing gaze on her face. ‘In all respects of the word.’
She flapped a hand. ‘If you expect me to apologise for my personal conduct then you will have a long wait.’
‘You were in love with him,’ Jake said softly.
Miss DuBois did not reply, but then she didn’t need to. She lowered her gaze, but not so quickly that Jake failed to notice the abject sorrow in her expression.
‘We planned to make a life together,’ she said simply.
‘In spite of the fact that Grantley already had a wife and son?’
‘Bah, his wife did not understand the ways of the theatre, or of the man she married. She was no support at all.’
Jake somehow managed to contain his anger. ‘Is that what he told you?’
‘It is what I know. I observed them together more than once. I could sense the distance between them. Oh, Mrs Grantley is very beautiful, I will grant you that much, but she is also cold and unfeeling and quite incapable of understanding her husband’s needs.’
‘But you could?’
‘Your disdain will not serve, Lord Torbay. I care nothing for your opinion of me.’
Just as well.‘Grantley supported your productions and you made sure that anyone wishing to perform in them required his representation.’ Realisation dawned. ‘But it took more than the allure of performing in one of Madame Céleste’s productions to tempt all of those top actors to Grantley’s door and keep them there. As you keep reminding me, they possess delicate sensibilities and would not choose to share the spotlight with others.’ Jake recalled hearing the two actresses screaming at one another like fishwives when he made his way to this office. ‘How did you persuade them?’
She tossed her head and attempted, unsuccessfully, to intimidate Jake with a haughty glower. ‘I cannot think what you mean.’
But Jake knew he had got it right. It was Madame Céleste’s devoted assistant who held incriminating snippets of information against the actors in question—information that could damage or even finish their careers if it became public knowledge. Madame Céleste had worked in Paris, America and England as a dancer and then an actress. Miss DuBois had accompanied her; employed as her eyes and ears everywhere. The theatre was a hot-bed of gossip—hot-bed being a literal interpretation with regard to thespians. But how could he make her confirm it?
‘You were not Marcus Grantley’s only conquest, you know.’
She sat up even straighter and her glower intensified. ‘Rubbish! He and his wife were no longer intimate. He was true to me.’
‘And yet he and his entourage, including Miss Aspin, left a first-night party at this theatre and returned to Grantley’s house. That was the night he died.’
