Miss Glamora Tudor!: The New Chronicles of Barset: Book One Page 7

  “Tell me, Miss Brinton,” said Aubrey in a low voice. “Do you think Keith will ever learn how to dance properly?” He knew all about the fiasco since Mr. Goldwasser, who felt that Aubrey was a fellow professional who would understand, told him about it confidentially.

  “No, Mr. Clover. He is a nice young man, and good looking, but completely lacking in graceful movements or any sense of rhythm,” said Miss Brinton.

  “Then what is going to happen with the film? I understand from Mr. Goldwasser that the dancing is a very important part of the story.”

  “Yes, particularly the scene in Vienna,” said Miss Brinton. “Lady Fitz-Gardner and Mr. Chardonay are dancing on the shore of the Danube to the far-off sounds of a band playing in a park somewhere. She renounces her love for him and tells him she must return to her duties and her husband, while he must go on serving his country – he is something of a spy, as you know – and never meet again. They dance throughout the scene, with the close-ups concentrating on their moving faces, which we think will make great impression on the audience.”

  “Well, well,” said Aubrey. “That won’t do at all, would it?”

  “Miss Tudor simply refuses to accept the truth,” said Miss Brinton. “And Mr. Goldwasser always likes to oblige her.”

  “I wish I could help Mr. Goldwasser in this dilemma,” said Aubrey. “I have the beginning of an idea, but it may be quite risky.”

  Chapter Six

  Miss Merriman put down the receiver, looking thoughtful. After a few seconds of reflection, she returned to the drawing room, where she had been spending a quiet evening with Lady Pomfret until the phone rang.

  “Lady Pomfret,” she said, “that was Mr. Goldwasser. He asked me if I could join him tomorrow for lunch at the White Hart, which he really liked when Miss Dean gave us dinner there; he has a request which he would rather express in person.”

  “I wonder what he wants,” said Lady Pomfret, and if she privately thought that the great Mr. Goldwasser simply wanted to spend some time with Miss Merriman, whom he clearly admired, she did not even hint at it.

  “He sounded rather urgent, quite concerned as a matter of fact. I simply could not refuse such a request for help. And he apologized profusely for the short notice.”

  “Not very important among friends,” said Lady Pomfret, who in the last few seconds had already arranged the wedding, gone over her own wardrobe to see if she needed a new dress and decided that yes, she would order one, and already started to miss her friend and helper who was obviously heading toward Hollywood to embark upon a life tinted by Glorious Technicolor. But since Miss Merriman knew nothing of these plans, no harm was done, and she just added that Mr. Goldwasser was sending his car to fetch her.

  The next day, Miss Merriman joined Mr. Goldwasser at the White Hart. He was waiting for her at a small table in the most private corner. “I hope you will approve, Miss Merriman; I have ordered our lunch in advance, to save time and have as little interference from the waiters as possible.”

  “I most certainly approve,” said Miss Merriman. “As someone who does most of the meal planning and ordering at the Towers, I welcome the opportunity of delegating these responsibilities. Not having to choose for myself is a treat.”

  “Also,” said Mr. Goldwasser, “allow me to thank you for accepting my invitation at such short notice. I am aware of your busy schedule.”

  “But Mr. Goldwasser, you sounded urgent on the telephone. Naturally I would like to do my best to help you, if I can give assistance in any way.”

  “What I have to request may surprise you, Miss Merriman, but I hope you will keep an open mind. Miss Brinton must go back to the United States for a few weeks on a personal matter which she stated was quite urgent.”

  “This is most difficult for you, Mr. Goldwasser. I imagine she does a great deal. She had impressed me as intelligent and efficient.”

  “Indeed she is, and in addition, she has a definitive understanding of English society which I do not profess to possess. Alcott can do much of her regular work, and he is most willing to step in and help, but there is much that he does not know, being a young man and having had so little exposure to English customs. Of course I could consult Mrs. Rivers on many points, but first, it is not the same as having Miss Brinton by my side. Second, well, Mrs. Rivers may have her own angle on so many subjects; she does not strike me as objective…”

  “What about Miss Tudor?” asked Miss Merriman. “After all, she was born and raised in London.”

  “Our Glam is one of the best and we all adore her, but she is no judge of such matters. She is extremely literal; she does not see the shades and nuances. Quite shrewd in a business-like manner, yet does not have the grasp of delicate matters and points of etiquette. No, Glam goes her own way, and damn the torpedoes… I need Miss Brinton’s discretion, tact, and knowledge.”

  “I can understand that,” said Miss Merriman. “But do tell me, where did Miss Brinton acquire such understanding of English society and customs? I think she told me she was born in Maine?”

  Mr. Goldwasser laughed. “When Miss Brinton was an adventurous nineteen-year-old, she left the family home in Bar Harbor and came to England to take a university course. Each summer during her stay, she earned her living as an exhibition dancer at a seaside resort. That is why she is such a divine dancer, thirty years later. She made many friends here, with whom she keeps up a voluminous correspondence, and she spends a month here with some of them every year.”

  “Exhibition dancer?” said Miss Merriman incredulously, unable to reconcile the image of the middle-aged, respectable Miss Brinton with the flowing dresses, fluffy petticoats, pirouettes, dips, and spike heels which are somehow universally associated with the profession. Nor could she imagine the imperious, commanding Miss Brinton smiling at and dancing with the resort’s customers. But she reminded herself that time changes everything and she knew that she would not lower her very high opinion of Miss Brinton just because she had a slightly unusual past. “Well, well, how interesting. I would have never suspected that,” she said quietly.

  “She came back to the United States, took an advanced degree in anthropology, taught college and even joined some distinguished expeditions to the Rain Forest in the Amazon where she associated with quite astonishing tribes. I met her a few years ago when she was ready to make another change, and persuaded her to try Hollywood. She became the best assistant I have ever had, and both of us never regretted our decision; she is a remarkable woman. But to return to our main issue, I am lost without her help. Could I persuade you, Miss Merriman, to take a leave of absence from your present employment and join us for a few weeks, acting as my confidential advisor? If you agree, I will personally approach Lord and Lady Pomfret.”

  If there had been a garden path Miss Merriman would undoubtedly have sat flat down on it, emulating the beloved Aunt Betsy Trotwood, but being in a dining room at the White Hart, she remained seated. However, so shocked was she by this unexpected request that she stared at Mr. Goldwasser, completely losing her composure for the first time in decades.

  “You are a person of such class, such taste, such understanding, Miss Merriman, that I know I could rely on you to resolve any issue that might arise. You will be saving this star-crossed film, which is giving me so much trouble already.”

  “This is entirely unexpected,” said Miss Merriman, finally finding her voice. “But I must admit that the idea is extremely appealing. I love the cinema, as you know, Mr. Goldwasser, always have… what an adventure this would be, seeing a film created and shaped. Yes, if you can persuade Lady Pomfret to let me come, I will, and with pleasure!”

  Of course, Lady Pomfret did not object to anything that would give Merry pleasure, and no difficulties of any nature arose. In a few days, Miss Merriman was sitting in the huge white car, on her way to Norton Hall.

  “I don’t understand, Lady Pomfret. Whatever do you mean, she is working for Mr. Goldwasser?” asked Mr. Choyce, completely at a loss. “
Has Miss Merriman decided to leave the Towers?” He picked up his cup and put it down again, visibly agitated.

  “No, no, Mr. Choyce. This is not a permanent situation. Mr. Goldwasser admires and respects Miss Merriman’s superior tact and discretion, and her many other sterling qualities, and asked her to act as his advisor while his regular assistant had to take a leave of absence. Just a few weeks, I believe. May I refill your cup?”

  Mr. Choyce did not like the idea at all. Of course, if Miss Merriman wanted to rub shoulders with the glamourous people, it was within her rights and he, Mr. Choyce, had nothing to do with it. But really, detaching Miss Merriman like that from her regular employment and comfortable home, taking her away from her friends, honestly, this American mogul was rather bold! Not that it mattered in any way, of course, but Mr. Choyce still did not like the idea, indeed, not at all. Naturally he would never say anything, either at that point or later, and Lady Pomfret, never very sensitive to atmosphere, had not noticed his mood.

  “And what happened to his assistant? Why does she take a leave of absence in the middle of the filming?” asked Mr. Choyce somewhat pettishly, but Lady Pomfret simply attributed his question to his usual kindness and concern for his fellow men in general and Miss Brinton in particular, and told him that she really had no idea and she did not think Mr. Goldwasser even told Miss Merriman. Which was entirely true, and Miss Merriman would have never dreamt of asking such a tactless question. And if our reader is curious as to what was prompting Miss Brinton to take her leave and go to the United States for a few weeks, we must confess that we do not as yet know the answer ourselves and we are quite curious about it too. However, we promise to tell the reader as soon as we find out, which we expect will be as soon as Miss Brinton and Miss Merriman see each other again and renew their friendship.

  In the meantime, Mrs. Morland, who liked young people and found Miss Emma Lover to be a delightful such person, decided to invite her to spend a few days at her home at High Rising. Jessica and Aubrey obligingly brought their young cousin on a Monday, a day on which, as we all know, the Cockspur Theatre is closed. They were having a delightful tea in Mrs. Morland’s drawing room, which was comfortably though unostentatiously furnished, when the phone rang. Stoker came in and said, “A gentleman wishing to speak to Miss Emma, please,” and left abruptly. But this was just her way, and we must note that she approved of Emma’s delicate beauty and looked forward to preparing plentiful and delicious meals for the young guest. It was ever so much nicer, Stoker said that same morning to the Milk, to feed young people, since, as it stood to reason, they generally ate much more than their elders. She greatly missed, she added, feeding Master Tony and his friends; no one ate like Master Tony. She had ordered extra rations from the Fish and the Bread, too, and repeated the statement, to which both agreed in a strictly sycophantic fashion, always remembering the lovely elevenses lavishly produced by Stoker at all times.

  Emma got up, a little embarrassed by the interruption, and went to the hallway.

  “I wonder how Edmond knew she was at your home, Mrs. Morland,” said Aubrey.

  Jessica laughed. “They talk very often, and she must have given him your telephone number. I apologize, Mrs. Morland.”

  “Not at all,” said that worthy creature. “I like a young romance.”

  “But all they do is argue,” said Jessica. “Each of them highly disapproves of what the other thinks about this wretched film.”

  “They are very young,” said Mrs. Morland thoughtfully. “It really does not matter if they argue at this stage. But should this friendship go on, it could make for a very suitable alliance.”

  “Indeed,” said Aubrey. “And in addition, I am in a position to help advance Edmond’s career. But his involvement with Miss Tudor, though entirely innocent, is not helping. I think Emma, who is quite proud, feels slighted by what she calls his ‘mooning after’ Miss Tudor, even though I told her again and again that he stayed in the film strictly on my advice.”

  The three shook their heads and smiled ruefully, each thinking his or her own thoughts regarding the silliness of youth, charming and infuriating as it always seems to the older generation.

  “And I hear there are so many problems arising with the film,” said Mrs. Morland. “I would not like to have anything to do with an enterprise involving both Lady Norton and Mrs. Rivers.”

  “Yes, they can be quite frightening,” said Jessica, “even one at a time. And here they are together. At least they are such good friends, which must help a little.”

  “They were not always such good friends,” said Mrs. Morland in her most sibylline manner.

  “Do tell,” said Aubrey.

  “I suppose there is no harm in telling,” said the talented authoress, who like most of us adored a little harmless gossip. “Mrs. Crawley once told me that the Dreadful Dowager had wanted to bring a libel action against Mrs. Rivers for having a character called Lady Norton in a book.”

  “So what happened?” asked Aubrey.

  “Nothing,” said Mrs. Morland. “Her son and his wife told her she would only look silly if it got into the courts as she might have to prove that she wasn’t like the one in the book and didn’t have very pure love affairs with young men, and once you prove you aren’t something, people always say you are.”

  “And she listened to them?”

  “Oh, yes. Do you know that her daughter-in-law, Eleanor Norton, calls her Moggs? Anyone who can call the Dreadful Dowager by such a name is all-powerful.”

  “So they must have made up,” said Jessica.

  “Yes, they have, eventually. It’s not a good idea to bring libel suits against people,” said Mrs. Morland.

  Aubrey laughed. “Surely no one had ever done that to you, Mrs. Morland?”

  “As a matter of fact, I nearly had a libel action,” said Mrs. Morland proudly.

  “But why? All your people are clearly fictional, if you don’t mind my saying so,” said Aubrey.

  “Naturally,” said Mrs. Morland. “That is the best part about my books. If the people seemed real, no one would be interested in them. When this person threatened with a libel suit, Adrian Coates wanted me to take it into court, but all that sort of thing repugnates me, as Gradka, the Mixo-Lydian refugee whom you must remember later became the ambassador to England, used to say. And I knew that if I had to stand in the dock I should go Mad.”

  “So what did you do?” asked Jessica.

  “The solicitors said an apology would do,” said Mrs. Morland, “so I sent a very nice letter of apology and it all ended there. It’s important to be nice to the readers. Not necessarily your friends, but the people who read one’s books.”

  “Mrs. Rivers would say My Public,” said Aubrey, laughing.

  “Well,” said Mrs. Morland with great candor, “Mrs. Rivers really has a Public. At least she gets so many letters. It’s wonderful and she sells well, but I can’t write books about the Love Life of Middle-Aged Women.”

  “Heaven forbid that you should,” said Jessica. “You must go on writing the books we all love so much.”

  “I just can’t even if I tried. I can only write the sort of books that I can write,” said Mrs. Morland.

  “I’ll drink to that,” said Aubrey and sipped his tea.

  “Emma, I am going out of my mind,” said Edmond on the phone.

  “Is it still these stupid dancing scenes?” asked Emma. “Cousin Aubrey told me about it.”

  “Well, yes, you see, Miss Brinton had to go to the United States for a while, and now Miss Tudor is trying to coach me. The production is coming to a standstill just because I can’t dance! Can you imagine how I feel?”

  “I think you should resign from this film,” said Emma irritably. “What’s the point? You hate it and I am sure even Miss Tudor herself is annoyed by now.”

  “Extremely annoyed,” said Edmond miserably, “but she still won’t let me off.”

  “Why can’t you stand up for yourself?” asked Emma, thoroughly
angry. “What kind of hold does she have on you?”

  “Hold? There is no hold. Mr. Clover told me not to make a fuss and to comply with Miss Tudor’s wishes,” said Edmond. “Do you think I should disoblige your cousin, who is the soul of kindness? I can’t go against everyone’s opinion, particularly since they all want to help me. Be reasonable, Emma.”

  But Emma was past being reasonable. “I’ll tell you what I will do,” she said. “It is convenient that I will soon be visiting the Mertons with Cousin Jessica. I’ll consult Noel about the situation for you; he understands everything.”

  “Noel?” said Edmond peevishly. “So it’s Christian names now?”

  “Well, yes, he asked me to call him by his Christian name, surely I could not refuse,” said Emma in a tone that sounded priggish to Edmond.

  “I don’t see what Noel can do,” he said. “I would rather you do not speak to him about the matter.”

  “If nothing else, he could give you some dancing lessons,” said Emma a little spitefully. “He dances divinely.”

  “How do you know?” demanded Edmond.

  “Cousin Jessica took me to the Wigwam, and Noel was there with some friends, so naturally he asked me to dance with him.”

  “Well, I hope you had a good time,” said Edmond in a tone that conveyed the exact opposite. “But to be honest with you, Emma, Noel is old enough to be your father, not to mention his being married. Flirting with him the way you do is not very lady-like. I am speaking as a friend, for your own good.”

  “Really?” said Emma with a voice as cold as ice. “And following an aging actress like a lapdog from one continent to another is very gentlemanly? Good night, Edmond.” She slammed the receiver down, and then burst into tears, ran into the drawing room and told Mrs. Morland, Jessica and Aubrey that Edmond was a Beast and she never wanted to see him again or even hear his name mentioned. Pressed by her cousins, she repeated much of the conversation, and while the three adults had to suppress the giggles, they comforted her as best they could and eventually she went to bed in an improved mood. She did regret, however, calling Edmond a lapdog, but perhaps he did not hear it; at least she hoped so or else she would have to apologize.