Pansy heard one say that he wouldn’t work with that screaming witch again if his life depended on it. And now she had to tell that witch that Gertie’s twins would not be at rehearsal.
Pansy knew what that meant. It meant she’d get screamed at, that was what. Phoebe Fortescue wasn’t all that friendly at the best of times, but when she was working on one of her events, she’d tear someone apart if they didn’t do what she wanted when she wanted it.
Pansy was not looking forward to being torn apart.
She reached the doors of the ballroom and slowly eased one of them open. Phoebe was marching back and forth in front of the stage, shouting directions at everyone while the scarlet-faced pianist thumped the keys in a desperate effort to drown her out.
The women up on the stage completely ignored Phoebe as usual. They were used to her tantrums and blithely turned a deaf ear, much to Pansy’s admiration. They were all singing, but it sounded as if they were singing different songs. Some were singing faster than others, and some were so off-key it hurt Pansy’s ears to listen.
Phoebe leapt up and down, shrieking, “Stop! Stop!”
No one listened, and the women went on warbling their awful medley until finally Phoebe stalked over to the pianist. “I said, stop!” she yelled in his ear. Apparently running out of patience, she grabbed the lid and slammed it down.
The poor man snatched his hands off the keys and out of the way just in time. “I say!” he said, in a pained voice. “You don’t have to be so vicious. I heard you.”
“Then why didn’t you stop?” Phoebe leaned forward so sharply her hat toppled over her eyes.
Giggles erupted on the stage, interrupting the singing. One by one the voices faded into blissful silence.
Struggling to straighten her hat, Phoebe’s voice cut across the room like ice. “If any of you want to appear in this prestigious event, I suggest you pay attention and obey instructions. I should hate to have to dismiss you for insubordination.”
The women looked at one another, whispering and shrugging.
Phoebe walked to the front of the stage. “The word means disobedience!” she yelled.
“Oh,” said one of the performers, a hefty woman with ginger hair and a double chin. “Why the flipping heck didn’t you say so, then? I thought it meant not being able to sing.”
“If I were going to dismiss any of you for that,” Phoebe shrilly declared, “none of you would be in… this… pantomime!”
She’d shouted the last three words, making Pansy wince. Deciding that to prolong the wait would only make matters worse, she crept forward until she was within three feet of the woman.
Phoebe raised a hand, obviously about to deliver another scathing remark.
Pansy coughed. “Er… Mrs. F-Fortescue?”
Slowly lowering her hand, Phoebe turned. “Yes?”
Pansy swallowed. There was more venom in that one word than in a dozen vipers. “I… er… I have a message for you, m’m.” She hurriedly curtsied, hoping that would earn her points.
Phoebe seemed unmoved. “What is it, child? Speak up!”
“It’s Gertie… I mean, Mrs. McBride. She says to tell you the twins can’t come to rehearsal this afternoon.”
Phoebe’s eyes seemed to glow with hostility. “And why not, pray? Are they ill?”
“No, m’m.” Pansy curtsied again for good measure. “Mrs. McBride had an urgent appointment, and she took the twins with her.”
“An urgent appointment.” Now Phoebe’s voice was full of disdain. “What appointment could possibly be more urgent than this rehearsal?” She advanced on Pansy, her hand raised. “Does she not realize that we have less than a week to present this pantomime? How am I supposed to put on my best achievement if my performers are not here to rehearse? Tell me that!”
Pansy backed up a few steps. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Fortescue. “I don’t know-”
“It’s not her fault!”
The voice had come from backstage and everyone turned to look as Doris appeared. She walked out to the center of the stage and looked down at Phoebe. “This young lady is simply bringing you a message. It isn’t fair of you to rant and rave at her for something that is none of her fault.”
Pansy drew a sharp breath. Doris, the woman she’d feared and despised, had come to her rescue. Tears pricked her eyes as she gazed up at her. How could she hate her now?
Phoebe seemed at a loss for words for once. She blinked a couple of times, coughed, then turned her steely gaze on Pansy again. “Thank you,” she muttered, too low for anyone else to hear. “You may go.”
“Yes, m’m.” Pansy dropped one last curtsey and turned to flee.
Once more Doris’s clear voice rang out. “Just a moment, Pansy!”
Pansy halted, wondering what was coming. Should she have thanked her? Was Doris offended? She turned to face the stage but the songstress had disappeared.
Phoebe, meanwhile, was tapping the piano with her baton. “From the beginning, if you please.” She whisked around to face the stage. “Ladies, in time, if you please. All together now… and one and two and one and two…” She pumped her baton up and down, while a few voices started the first notes of the song. After a few nudges from their companions, the rest hastily caught up, and the ragged chorus limped painfully along.
Pansy resisted the urge to put her hands over her ears. Just then Doris appeared from the backstage door and walked over to her.
Up close the songstress was even prettier than Pansy had thought. She’d seen Doris only once before, and that was from the back of the ballroom the last time she had visited the Pennyfoot.
Doris was the image of her sister, Daisy, but there was something about her that made her seem different. More worldly, with a sort of glowing confidence and poise that Daisy had never had.
Doris wore her hair fluffed up in the front with little tendrils curling at her cheeks, not scraped back like Daisy’s, and she’d done something to her eyes to make them shine. Her cheeks were a delicate shade of pink and her mouth was painted red. When she smiled, she showed a row of perfectly even teeth. She was so gorgeous, Pansy couldn’t help staring at her. No wonder Samuel had fallen in love with her.
Doris seemed uncomfortable with the scrutiny. She took Pansy’s arm with gentle fingers and led her to the rear of the ballroom. “I have a huge favor to ask of you,” she said, raising her voice to be heard above the racket going on onstage.
Overwhelmed by this dazzling creature’s presence, Pansy could only nod.
Doris rolled her eyes as the caterwauling got louder. “I know you have duties that keep you busy, and believe me, I know how hard you work. I was a maid here once myself.”
Wondering what all this was leading up to, again Pansy nodded.
“What I need is someone to assist me with the costume changes.” Doris waved a hand at the stage. “Phoebe won’t have time to do it, and I don’t trust anyone else. I was wondering if you’d have time to help me.”
Pansy swallowed. To be asked to assist a real-life music hall star onstage was an honor that would make her the envy of the Pennyfoot staff.
On the other hand, this was Doris. The love of Samuel’s life. Did she really want to spend time with her, perhaps throwing her into Samuel’s path again?
Doris looked uncertain. “If it would interfere with your duties I quite understand.”
Pansy made a quick, if rather rash, decision. “I’m sure madam will allow me time to assist you, since it’s for the benefit of the guests. I’ll be happy to do it.”
Doris smiled, showing her perfect teeth again. “Well, I don’t know how much benefit it will be”-she nodded at the stage-“but we’ll do our best, and thank you. Perhaps, if you’re not too busy, you could manage to attend the two dress rehearsals?”