Chapter Two
When Phryne turned up at Prudence Stanley's mansion, though, she very nearly failed at the first fence. Aunt P's newest, snootiest parlourmaid answered the door, and attempted to inform the Honourable Miss Fisher that Mrs Stanley was Not At Home.
Miss Fisher, however, was having none of that nonsense.
"Don't be ridiculous," was her peremptory advice. I was doing supercilious looks when you were making mud pies her dismissive glance informed the girl as she thrust past her and made straight for the beautifully-appointed drawing room.
Mrs Stanley was proved to be eminently Home, and engaged in some unusually violent letter-writing at a corner escritoire, with her back to the room. As Phryne opened the door, a piece of heavy paper was crumpled to a ball and thrown towards the empty fireplace, there to join half-a-dozen other such rejects.
"Maddox, I said I was NOT to be disturbed," she stormed, without turning around.
Phryne strolled across the room and bent to kiss her aunt's cheek.
"Don't blame Maddox," she said breezily. "She didn't stand a chance."
"Oh, hello, Phryne," said Prudence testily. "What do you want?"
"I want you to stop wasting a whole tree's worth of notepaper on a missive that's obviously not going to be written any time soon and give me a glass of something refreshingly fizzy and a few minutes of your undivided attention," replied her demanding niece.
"Oh, very well," conceded Prudence, ringing the little bell at her elbow. Maddox appeared at the door, studiously avoiding meeting Phryne's eye.
"Maddox, we'll have a bottle of the Veuve Cliquot."
Phryne sipped her beverage approvingly, and by way of conversational opener, asked what the letter was to be about.
Prudence grimaced. "The new wing for the Women's Hospital. Building was supposed to have started next month, but someone told the builders that we haven't quite raised all the money yet, and they're refusing to start."
Not a fan of team sports on the whole, Phryne was still capable of spotting an open goal when she saw one.
"Then we just have to raise the rest of the money," she said calmly. "In fact, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."
"How can we possibly raise a large sum like that in such a short time?" protested Prudence. "I'd do the rounds of the ladies in the Committee again, but everyone's already dug very deep – including you, child. No, it's not fair. Not in this day and age."
"We'll have a fundraiser," said Phryne. "I'm going to go and see Bernard Tarrant and see if he'll let us borrow his theatre to put on a play. Something light, that will bring in the crowds."
Despite herself, Prudence was interested; but she was still better prepared to find problems than solutions. "Won't it cost a lot of money to pay all the actors and so on?"
"Not if we use talented amateurs," smiled her niece. "Didn't you do some acting when you were younger?"
"Well, yes, but that was years ago!" Flustered, Aunt P's colour was heightened further. "And I don't think I could be a credible Cecily Cardew these days."
"Of course not!" Phryne laughed. "I was thinking of 'The Importance of Being Earnest' too, though. Surely, Aunt P, you've had a hankering to play Lady Bracknell now and again?"
"Lady Bracknell …" breathed Prudence, and raised a hand to her mouth – first in shock, then in thought. The glimmerings of a smile began to appear in her eyes.
"Who else … could you have?" she asked. Phryne noticed that she was half way to winning the argument, and pressed home the advantage.
"Well, I'd love to play Gwendolen. And I'm sure the Tarrants would help out – I'll get Leila to play Cecily. For the men, Mac must be able to track down a doctor or two that can learn some lines. They're going to benefit, after all. Bernard can buttle. You see? We can do it!"
"I …" Prudence attempted to prevaricate further, but wasn't give the chance. Phryne was in full freight-train mode.
"Right, that's settled then. You start learning lines about handbags, and I'll go and nobble Bernard."
The impresario was less easily manipulated, however.
"Phryne, my dear, it's a charming notion; but there really isn't time before the new rep season opens," he stroked his beard doubtfully.
"When do you kick off?" she asked.
He glanced at the calendar. "The opening night of the new season is a week from Saturday. The get-in is on Thursday next week, so there's basically only a week from today that the theatre is empty."
"Oh." Even Phryne was somewhat daunted. To put on a full performance, to a standard high enough to raise money, in a week?
Then she saw again her mind's eye the pile of failed, angry letters in Aunt Prudence's grate. She lifted her gaze to Tarrant's and there was determination in her eyes.
"Then we'll do it in a week. Can you persuade Leila to help? And I might need you to find me a couple of character actors."
Tarrant assured her that he would use his powers of persuasion, but as soon as the word 'yes' was out of his mouth, the whirlwind had left and he was speaking to empty air.