The Lady of Lyon House by Jennifer Wilde Read Free Book Online Page A

about having you at Lyon House.”
    â€œAll the arrangements have been made?” I asked.
    â€œYes. There’s a train leaving Sunday morning. You’ll go then. We shall spend today and tomorrow shopping. You’ll need ever so many things. It will be great fun.”
    Mattie continued to talk. She told me about her childhood in Devonshire and gave glorious descriptions of the countryside. She told me all about Corinne Lyon who, in her late fifties, was still the terror of the county. I listened passively, asking no questions, merely replying when it was necessary. Mattie snapped the peas and talked. She seemed relieved now, and when she looked up at me her eyes were full of tenderness that she did not try to hide. I knew that she loved me. I knew that she was doing what she thought best. She would not send me away without a good reason. I accepted that. It was enough for now.
    The music hall closed early Saturday night. We had a private party. There was an enormous cake and several bottles of cheap champagne. Old Greenley had strung crepe-paper banners over the stage, and the chorus girls had helped with the other decorations. There was a pile of gaily wrapped presents for me on a table. Now, well after midnight, glasses of champagne circulated freely and everyone was trying to force an air of merriment into an occasion that was sad. The girls were wearing their spangled costumes, and Laverne was in the new dress I had just finished. She sat at the piano, banging out tune after tune, and a few of the girls sang. Bert and Sarah had done a soft-shoe number, and Bert was already a bit drunk, sitting in a chair with a wide grin on his face.
    I opened the presents. There were new hair ribbons, a purse, a pair of scarlet slippers, a brush and comb set of plated silver, silken undergarments hidden under layers of pink tissue paper. I tried to laugh, to seem grateful, to act happy over my “holiday,” but I couldn’t manage it properly. I had to force back the tears, and it took much effort. Mattie seemed aware of this. She roamed all over the stage like a brooding hen with a flock of disconsolate chicks, refilling glasses, trying to inject a little spirit. Finally she sat down, letting the sadness she felt take over.
    Bill kept coming over to me and putting his arm about my shoulders. He seemed to be on the verge of tears, and I noticed that he had drunk far too many glasses of champagne. I cut the cake and made a wish. Addie passed the cake around, scattering chocolate crumbs all over the stage. An hour passed, everyone determined to keep up a good front. One of the girls got drunk and burst into tears. Laverne tried to calm her down. I managed to slip away during the confusion.
    The music hall was in total darkness, only the stage illuminated by a string of lights. The backstage areas were shadowy, although a little moonlight poured in through the high set windows. I climbed up the iron staircase, moving slowly and trying to make no noise. Upstairs, it was cold and damp. Everything was bathed with moonlight, serene. It was a world of velvety shadows and black floors and silvery-blue mist. I opened the door of my dressing room. Far below, I could hear the noises of the party, muffled now, distant. I sat down on the cot and took out the long red box.
    I took out Hans and Gretchen and Miranda and Dil. I held them in my arms, and tears filled my eyes. The puppets were silly things made from wood, their features painted, and it was foolish to cry now as I cradled them in my arms. But I was not crying because of the puppets. I was crying because I had to leave everything I knew and loved, and the puppets were representative of all that. Nothing would ever be the same again; I felt that strongly. I would go to Devonshire, and I would come back, but it would never be the same.
    These last two days had been frantic, full of preparations for the journey. Mattie had tried to make our shopping trips festive, and we