A/N: Welcome to the second chapter! I want to thank all my reviewers for their support! Your words mean a lot!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Libertine.
Chapter 2
Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.
~W. Shakespeare
London, Dorset Garden Theatre
She dipped the quill carefully into the small inkpot by her side and then brought it to the paper balanced precariously upon her lap. She shifted in her seat and tried to make herself as invisible as possible as she attended the rehearsal. Her eyes followed Elizabeth Barry as she paced up and down the stage and Mr. Harris, who was standing to the right side of the stage, closed his eyes and side as the actress started murmuring the words of the same scene over and over again.
"I do not know,
One of my sex; no woman's face remember,
Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen
More that I may call men than you, good friend,
And my dear father: how features are abroad,
I am skill-less of; but, by my modesty,
The jewel in my dower, I would not wish
Any companion in the world but you,
Nor can imagination form a shape,
Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle
Something too wildly and my father's precepts
I therein do forget."
She paused and Chantal watched as she rubbed her temples in sheer aggravation.
"Lizzie, this is just a first rehearsal. Surely you've done it enough times for today. It's getting late and you should go home." Mr. Harris spoke up at last and Chantal flexed her shoulders and eyed her notes while she listened to their conversation.
"Late? It's not late. I have to get ready for tonight's performance." Elizabeth said firmly and Chantal's eyes snapped up while dread twisted her stomach into tight knots.
Not again.
"Lizzie, we agreed that Ms. Paige will take over from now own whilst you prepare for The Tempest." Mr. Harris said quietly but Chantal knew that it was a lost fight. She had been trying for months to get onto that stage, even for a small part but she didn't have the chance to do so. She also didn't have the chance to return Mr. Betterton's trust. He was the one who had hired her and probably the only one who was aware of her possibilities.
"And I said that she is not ready." Barry fired back and Chantal's anger flared.
"And she won't be unless she knows that she has to step on this stage." Mr. Harris replied.
"The discussion is over, Mr. Harris. I have enough time for both projects."
Chantal watched as the other woman walked away and she stood as well, gathering her notes and ink with quick movements. Her chance was gone. Again.
"Ms. Paige." Mr. Harris called as he climbed down from the stage and approached her.
Chantal turned to him, "Sir."
He gave a small smile, "You're very studious. Your ardour will be compensated." He said quietly and Chantal looked away for a moment.
"I am twenty five years old, Mr. Harris. I should have been acting by now." She said with agitation.
"And you shall." He objected weakly.
"When? When Mrs. Barry decides that she no longer wishes to dominate the London stage? I am wasting my time and energy here. How am I supposed to learn if I do not practice?" she cried helplessly but then she took a deep breath and shook her head, "I apologize." She murmured, "It is not your fault."
"No need, Ms. Paige. If you so desire it I shall speak to Mr. Betterton. Perhaps he may relieve you from your position as Mrs. Barry's understudy and give you a part in the new production." He placed his hands behind his back and regarded her seriously.
Chantal swallowed hard but shook her head, "No, sir. I won't start a war with the finest actress on our stage. Excuse me, I must help in the dressing rooms." She murmured before she turned and headed backstage.
"Ms. Paige." His voice caused her to falter.
"Mr. Harris?" she turned to look at him from over her shoulder.
"You're a good actress." He told her and she smiled sadly.
"Am I? I am not so sure." She whispered before she turned and walked away with hurried footsteps.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Mrs. Barry's dressing room and closet was a mess. Chantal looked at the clock and sighed. Only five minutes until the play's end. She had little time to tidy up before the theatre closed for the day. Before she had time to practice on her own and gather her thoughts properly. She was hired as an actress, she was paid to be one but she was not one. She was just Mrs. Barry's helper, her right hand. Nothing more nothing less.
She made sure to put away all the unnecessary costumes and wigs and placed the new production's clothes into the closet. As she bothered with the clothes her eye caught something at the corner of the closet, something familiar. She frowned and leaned down to pick it up.
Her fingers curled tightly around the baby blanket and she smiled a bit. She pulled out the white blanket with the lacy trimming and looked at it.
"Why are you still here?" she murmured with surprise. She knew it was Mrs. Barry's, well her baby's, so why was it not with the child? Little Elizabeth never slept without it as far as Chantal knew. And she knew for she had put the child to sleep numerous times in the past three months.
Shaking her head she pulled it out and stepped back from the dresser, shutting the door.
"Help me out of the dress and then stand by the door. Don't let anyone in." Barry's voice cut through her musings and she turned around.
The actress seemed…ruffled.
"Of course." Chantal thrust the blanket under her arm and walked over to loosen the laces of Barry's costume. When it was loosened enough Elizabeth stepped away and motioned towards the entrance.
"Do as I said." She muttered and Chantal opened her mouth to speak, to inform her that she was not her servant but the other actress was already walking away towards the mirror.
Chantal frowned at the sour, well sourer, mood of the woman and turned to walk out.
As soon as she stepped in she noticed someone approaching the dressing room. Her eyes widened minutely and she quickly bowed her head.
"My Lord." She murmured as she looked at him from beneath her eyelashes, "Good evening."
"Is she in?" Lord Rochester asked her curtly as he eyed her briefly.
"Yes, sir." Chantal nodded but as he made to pass she stepped into his way.
He rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Not again, Ms. Paige. Step aside for I am not known for backhanding women." He drawled darkly and she swallowed hard.
"My Lord, I have orders not to-…Oh!" she was pushed out of the way a moment later. He grabbed both of her shoulders and nearly swept her off her feet as he put her to the side. Like she was a piece of furniture that needed to be put at its proper place.
As he let go of her he pushed the curtains away and walked unceremoniously in, leaving her sputtering like a fish.
She took a step back but then she realized that she still held onto the blanket. Not wanting to be accused of thievery she stepped to the side and waited. As she did so she couldn't help but listen to the conversation…If one could call it that.
"I cannot believe you're saying this. I gave her to you, didn't I? I didn't hide her from you. What more do you want?" Barry's voice was impatient and as Chantal looked ahead she noticed Mr. Etherege by the corridor. She quickly lowered her head for she knew exactly the nature of their relationship. He was her newest suitor…Well, lover was the most accurate word for he was already married.
"I knew you didn't care for anyone but I cannot fathom the notion of you not caring for the child. Sending her to me in silk and lace? Trying to prove what? Your wealth? I am sorry to tell you this, but you were nothing before me. Shall I remind you the public humiliation you endured before my coaching? You have to give me answers. What is wrong with the child? The wet-nurse cannot make her to stop crying at nights. Is she ill? Does she miss your milk? For God's sake, woman! Speak!" The Earl's voice was loud and Chantal bit her lip because she knew the answer to his latest questions.
"Not as far as I know." Barry replied calmly.
"As far as you know?"
"It's not in my nature to give, John. You know that."
"That is your answer? Did you even spend time with her at all?" The Earl's voice held a hint of desperation among the fury.
"Is that all?" The actress's voice was so composed that Chantal was a bit shocked. She didn't even know her own child.
"Indeed, Mrs. Barry. That is all." He said at last and she heard the telltale sound of his footsteps as he headed for the exit.
Chantal looked up at him as he made his ay out of the room and she tried to catch his eyes but he did not even glanced her way. He passed by George Etherege and didn't look at him either and once Etherege was into Barry's dressing room only then did Chantal go after the Earl.
"My Lord!" she called as she tried to catch up to him, "My Lord Rochester!" She pushed her way through a group of women who giggled as they watched her running after the Earl and when he was ready to walk into one of the girls' rooms she finally caught up with him.
"My Lord!" she repeated as she touched his arm. He whirled around to face her with surprise.
"Ms. Paige?" he frowned as he eyed her with interest.
Chantal fought for breath and she nodded, "Forgive me, my Lord, but I have something to give you." She pulled the blanket from under her arm and smoothed it out before she handed it over to him, "For Elizabeth." She said and one of his eyebrows went up as he gazed at the item.
"I don't understand." He said as he eyed the blanket critically and then raised his dark eyes on her.
"For the child." She repeated and he leaned casually against his walking stick.
"Is it Christmas?" He asked her mockingly and she frowned.
"No, sir. I am sorry, my Lord, I didn't express myself properly-…"
"And you should have. You're an actress after all….Or so I hear." His eyes roamed her form and she flushed.
"It's Lizzie's blanket. She cannot sleep without it. That's why she is crying." Chantal murmured quietly and the Earl stiffened.
"And how would you know that?" He asked her sharply, obviously displeased at having his private affairs discussed with a stranger.
Chantal faltered, "I just know. Please." She said softly and he eyed her hand before he rolled his eyes and grabbed the blanket from her.
"Also, forgive my impudence, sir, but the only problem is this cloth. The child has never breastfed from Mrs. Barry. So, she's not hungry." She added as she took a step back and the Earl's eyes followed her with interest.
"Who hired you, Ms. Paige?" He asked her abruptly and she frowned at the change of subject.
"Mr. Betterton himself, my Lord. Why?" She asked as she clasped her hands together in front of her belly.
His eyes studied her for a moment before he stepped closer, "Do not hunch, madam. It's very unladylike for a woman, let alone an actress." He ordered sharply and Chantal straightened. She hadn't even realized that she had cowered in front of him.
"Better. You say Mr. Betterton hired you, but judging from his wife, he is not the best judge." He drawled as he cocked his head to the side and regarded her curiously, "So, unless the public sees you on that stage, no one will know for sure if you have the talent. Do something about that, Ms. Paige." He stepped back and eyed her intently, "Stop hiding in the background."
"They're not letting me-…" She started to object but he did not let her.
"The worst form of cowardice is blaming others for our choices. There's always a choice, I assure you." He cut her off and Chantal frowned deeply before she remembered herself and inclined her head.
"My Lord." She murmured before she turned to go, feeling even less adequate for an actress than before.
"Ms. Paige." His voice stopped her from walking away and she reluctantly turned her face towards him.
"Your Lordship?" she frowned.
"Beth is fine." He almost ground out before he turned and disappeared into one of the back rooms.
Chantal's eyebrows went high up her forehead at his words and she was momentarily confused before recognition lit up her features.
Beth; not Lizzie or Elizabeth. Of course. She shook her head and then walked away with a small smile.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Duke's Theatre, a week later…
"Don't go in there." Molly Luscombe slapped a hand hard against the wall, halting Chantal's entrance into the dressing room.
"I have to-…" she motioned to the various costumes in her hands but Molly cut her off with a shake of her head.
"Lord Rochester is in there with one of the girls. It may take a while. You may put the dresses in the other room." Molly pointed towards the next dressing chamber and Chantal nodded.
"Very well." She murmured as she stepped back with reluctance.
"Why are you here so late? Everyone's gone by now. Well, the actors anyway." Molly commented with a roll of her eyes as she regarded the young woman with a frown.
"Um, it's the only time I can practice alone." Chantal replied uncomfortably, "Is it an inconvenience?" she frowned but she hoped no one scolded her for it.
"No, but why not go home?" Molly asked her curiously and she stepped forward as female high pitched squeal came from the room behind her. Chantal flushed but replied nonetheless.
"My sister is newlywed. Our home is too small for the three of us anyway so I am trying to give them a little privacy. It's the least I can do since my wages don't help much. It's all until they finish building their own house." Chantal replied and then smirked, "Are you going to stay there all night?" She asked and Molly rolled her eyes.
"Till they're done, aye. Now be gone. Your secret's safe." The older woman winked as she shooed her away and Chantal chuckled before she turned and disappeared into the empty dressing room.
She took a deep breath as she finally found herself alone and smiled a bit. She placed the dresses in a chair and then stretched a bit to relieve the tension in her shoulders and back. Her feet also hurt from walking up and down all evening, but she was glad of the quietness the night brought. She resisted the urge to yawn and reached down to pull the play from under the pile of clothes and then took a look around.
The room was dimmed, with only a few candles illuminating the relatively large space. Various costumes, wigs and theatrical properties were lying scattered about, but she did not care of the messy room. She came to stand in the middle of the large space and before that she made sure that the curtains were drawn, concealing her from any curious eyes.
She took a deep breath and took a look at the lines. But she had no need; she had memorized them all by heart months ago. Before the production had even started; before her employment to the theatre.
She craned her neck and turned her face away from the mirror across from her. She could never bear to look at herself when she acted. It was her weakness and everyone knew it. How could they employ an actress who couldn't even look upon herself while she delivered? It was uncalled for. Acting could not bear the weight of embarrassment.
Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind she straightened her posture and started speaking.
"What! Will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see,
She is your treasure, she must have a husband;
I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day,
And for your love to her lead apes in hell.
Talk not to me: I will go sit and weep
Till I can find occasion of revenge."
She came to a sudden stop and shook her head. No, she did not like it. The tone of her voice was too bleak, too weak for such spark. Katharina was not a little wisp; she was a tiger and should be played as such. She took a few steps forward and then turned in a circle before she took a look at the lines. She flipped through the play and then came to a halt when she reached act II.
She cleared her throat and started again, "Mov'd! In good time: let him that mov'd you hither, remove your hence. I knew you at the first, you were a movable." She paused when it came to Petruchio's lines and groaned in resignation. She could not work the dialogues alone. She shook her head severely as she closed both hands around the play and squeezed it in sheer aggravation.
"Why, what's a movable?" The sudden voice startled her and she turned around abruptly. A gold and black walking stick parted the curtains and then a pair of expensive brown boots appeared. Her eyes moved up the man's form and she froze.
She blinked rapidly and then remembering herself she bowed low, her eyes on the floor.
"My Lord." She murmured with her heart beating wildly against her chest.
"Continue." Lord Rochester waved his walking stick imperiously at her and she looked up at him startled.
"Pardon, my Lord?" She whispered with wide eyes, her blue eyes swimming with dread.
"The lines." He snapped as he came to stand a few feet away from her, "Carry on with them." He said as he regarded her dispassionately with his brown eyes and she blinked.
"My Lord-…"
"Why, what's a movable?" He cut her off sharply and she gulped before she straightened and took a quick look at the lines.
"A-a joint stool." She delivered and a tiny fleck of smugness passed through his eyes but she did not see it.
"Thou hast hit it: come sit on me." He almost purred as he started circling her. She turned around and followed his movements hesitantly.
"Asses are made to bear, and so are you." She whispered and his eyes narrowed. She knew he was saving his displeasure for later.
"Women are made to bear, and so are you." He shot back clearly, with no stammer.
"No such jade as bear you, if me you mean." She replied in a firmer tone.
He almost smirked, but simply kept walking around her like a lion, his cane thudding against the floor with every step he took.
"Alas, good Kate! I will not burden thee; for, knowing thee to be young and light."
"Too light for such a swain as you to catch, and yet as heavy as my weight should be." She followed his eyes with her own, her voice gradually getting louder.
"Should be? Should buz." His mouth twitched and his eyes did a quick perusal of her body, causing her to falter a bit.
"Well ta'en, and like a buzzard."
"O slow-wing turtle! Shall a buzzard take thee?" His eyes flashed and she swallowed hard before she continued.
"Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard."
"Come, come, you wasp; I faith, you are too angry." He leaned forward and his breath fell upon her ear like a caress. She shivered and tried to move back.
"If I be waspish, best b-beware my sting." She stumbled over the words and his eyes flashed with reproach at her mistake. Why should he be angry? What did he want? Besides playing with her, of course.
"My remedy is then, to pluck it out!" His voice turned sharp as he came to stand in front of her.
"Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies." Her voice regained its strength again and he smirked slightly.
"Who knows not where the wasp does wear his sting? In his tail." Hs tone was mocking again but she was not sure if it was directed to her or Katharina.
"In his tongue." She fired back with irk.
"Whose tongue?" he murmured as he leaned forward a bit, his mouth turned upwards at the corners.
"Yours, if you talk of tails; and so farewell!"
"What? With my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again. Good Kate, I am a gentleman." He was grinning fully by then and his eyes were narrowed as he twirled the head of his walking stick around his fingers.
"That I'll try." And then her hand rose, ready to strike, but she faltered. He was an Earl. Her fingers created a fist and she slowly lowered it while his eyes lost their mischievous glimmer.
"Why did you stop? Don't you know that you must strike at this moment? You're going to have to on stage." He remarked as he regarded her with distaste and then started circling her, "Walk." He hissed into her ear and she flinched.
"My Lord?" she asked with confusion.
"Walk, Ms. Paige." He ordered again and she turned around to face him.
"Why should I do as you command?" her eyes narrowed, "You intruded on my rehearsal."
He smirked at that, "Rehearsal, you say? So, after this you're ready to step on stage?" he waved his hand at her form and she faltered.
"You're ready to take Mrs. Barry's place?" he leaned forward and grasped her chin between his fingers, "Forgive me, madam, but I see no Katharina. So, perhaps you must enhance your efforts." His fingers tightened upon her chin and she tried to pull back, "Don't you agree, Chantal?" He breathed her name out and grinned as he eyed her mouth. She pulled back from him and his grin only widened.
"If you're here to insult me, don't bother, my Lord. I am just an understudy." She fired back and he chuckled.
"Indeed you are." His decadent eyes roamed her form and she took a step back as he cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips.
"You shall join me in my house tomorrow." He announced suddenly, "After the sun has risen. A carriage shall be waiting for you outside the theatre." He locked eyes with her, "Do not be late."
"You must be mistaken, sir. I am not a courtesan." She replied in a strong voice and her eyes flashed with fire and indignation.
Lord Rochester paused and looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "Who said I was interested in your…virtues, Ms. Paige?" he remarked cruelly and she flinched, "And do save your fire for the role. I am not impressed by it outside the playhouse." He told her coldly before he turned and headed for the curtains that led to the corridors, "Don't be late." He called snappishly before he disappeared, the sounds of his footsteps and walking stick ringing in her ears as he made his retreat.
Chantal released the breath she had been holding and turned to look at one of the mirrors. She raised a hand against her flushed cheek and then looked down at the play with an increasing mixture of excitement and dread.
What had she gotten herself into?
End of chapter 2.
A/N: Thank you for reading!
The dialogues in italics are from Shakespeare's 'The Tempest' and from the 'The Taming Of The Shrew'.
Please review before you go! Your feedback is needed!
Xxx Lina ;o)
