As they ate, she explained the stage. “Someone writes down words. Sometimes funny or sad or mysterious. The story they tell can be written in a book one can read or it can be performed. Acted out in front of an audience. That’s what your mama did. She played a role—the part of someone.”
“She was very talented,” Win interjected, moving toward them and taking a seat next to her.
The chairs were meant for children. Sera knew how large she felt sitting in one and couldn’t imagine how Win was even able to sit. But it pleased her mightily that he had taken a seat with them.
“Did you see her?” Charlie asked. “Watch her pretend to be someone else?”
“No, but remember Mr. Blumer? He was the man who came with me to find you. He saw her twice on stage and said she was the most talented actress he had ever seen. The most beautiful one, too.”
Both boys beamed at Win’s words.
“Maybe I’ll be an actor,” Freddie declared.
“And me,” Charlie added, not wanting to be left out.
“You have many years to decide if you want to go on the stage and tell stories to audiences. London is the largest city in England and it has several playhouses. Sometimes, an acting troupe travels throughout England and they will perform in different cities for a set amount of time. Besides the actors, it takes many people to help pull off a performance,” she revealed.
“Like what?” Freddie asked.
“They have people who sew the costumes the actors wear and dressers who help dress them. Often during a play, an actor will change clothes several times. That’s one of the ways an audience knows time is passing. There are people who make and care for the props used on stage, as well.”
“What’s a prop?” Charlie asked, licking his fingers since he had finished.
“No licking. Wipe your hands and mouth with your napkin,” Sera said, making light of it as she continued. “Props are objects people use in a play. They may carry a candle or give someone a book or flowers. They may sit in a chair. Someone has to place those things on the stage—and change them between scenes or acts, the ways a play is divided up. Then there is the background. Artists paint the backdrops. Another person places makeup on the actors’ faces so the audience can see them better. There are people who direct the actors on what to do. How to move on a stage. How to say their lines.”
“What do you mean?” Freddie asked, clearly puzzled.
She thought a moment. “Take this sentence, for example. I lost my dog.” She made certain she said every word the same way in a neutral fashion. “Now listen to the differences. “Ilost my dog. Ilostmy dog. I lost mydog.”
“They were all different!” cried Charlie.
“Exactly. The director helps an actor interpret a line. Helps him decide which words to emphasize. He helps them decide how they should say a line. If they should move as they say it or stand still. If they should look sad or happy or lonely or afraid.”
Sera watched Freddie use his napkin on his mouth and hands without being prompted and nodded at him in recognition.
“Then there are the people who clean the theater between performances. People who sell the tickets to the audience.”
“And someone had to hire the actors in the first place,” Win chimed in. “They have to decide who is right for each role.”
“What does that mean?” Freddie asked.
“Maybe the director—the person who helps the actors decide how to play their role—envisions someone tall and handsome in a certain role. Or he’d rather see someone short and stout play the part instead. If it is a love story, he won’t want an eighty-year-old man as the hero and a twenty-year-old girl as the heroine.”
Both boys burst out laughing at that.
And Win laughed along with them.
Sera already saw progress. The boys were behaving beautifully. They had learned a few table manners. More importantly, Win was seeing his nephews as real people. They had revealed quite a bit about themselves and their lives as she had spoken with them. She also hoped Freddie and Charlie would start seeing Win as a person, too, and not just the duke.
Her stomach growled and both boys burst out laughing. She found herself—and Win—laughing along with them.
“You’re hungry, Miss Nicholls,” Charlie said, slapping his knee. “My belly ain’t ever growled that loud.”
“The maid did not know to bring dinner to me,” she said. “I will eat all my meals with you from now on.”
Win cleared his throat. “I think breakfast will be enough, Miss Nicholls. And you can sit with the boys when they have their milk and bread. But I would like you to dine with me each evening. That way, you can report on the progress the boys have made each day. I am very interested in hearing about it.”
Freddie looked at Win suspiciously. “Why do you want to know about us?”