Reflections: Marguerite Part Three
A convincing performance begins with a strong entrance; this is the first lesson an actress must learn if she wishes to become a grand dame of the theatre. Bien! My costume is soiled and I have only my new cane as a prop, but one must do what one can with what is to hand. Armand will say that he does not mind how I look, of course, but he would be surprised if I did not present myself well.
Mais, qu’est-ce que c’est? Sir Percy did not mention that his friends would be attending also. Would he turn even my brother’s farewell into a social occasion? Here is Sir Andrew with his usual awkward mien, and - ‘Hello, Lord Tony!’ He is not ashamed to take my hand. ‘What are you doing here?’
And can it be? It must have been Monsieur Gelée distracting me, or I should have seen at once my very best friend! ‘Why, if it isn’t little Suzanne over there! Pardieu, little citizeness, how came you to be in England?’
She has barely changed; I could be in Paris still! But that gown will not do, so drab and formal. I shall have to show her the new English styles, when I am in a fit state to model them!
Bon dieu, and Madame la Comtesse is with her - how grateful I am that she was not our chaperone when last Suzanne and I were together in England! Oh, and that must little Alexandré still hiding behind his mother’s skirts. Can so much have changed betwixt times? Armand, where are you, my sluggish brother! When I was speaking to you of learning to ride at the Château de Tournay, I never allowed myself to dream -
‘Suzanne. I forbid you to speak to that woman.’
Ça alors! Even with the Revolution in France, my new life in England and La Manche between our two worlds, she has not changed. How I hate the woman! What corruption does she imagine I might wreak upon her precious daughter if allowed one fond embrace? Does my face still bear traces of paint from the stage? Retract your claws from her arm, sorcière, she is safe.
‘Hoity-toity, citizeness! What fly stings you, pray?’
Yes, Madame, I too can speak English. I learned with your daughter. Your words may shock the gentle folk gathered here, but I have heard worse and mostly from your kind.
‘I am at liberty to forbid my daughter to touch your hand in friendship.’ This I am told in French: surely a fitting delivery from one of the noblesse, now that the liberty to deny others is no longer their exclusive right. ‘Come, Suzanne.’
Oh, Suzette, my tender child - is it she who has dimmed the light in your eyes, and drawn the life from your young face? I can imagine her methods. Your mother would never let you visit the théâtre - not even at the Comédie, the King’s playhouse! - to see me perform, nor permit your attendance at my little gatherings. It seems that I could be trusted as your friend only when under the roof of God at the convent, and have been damned in her eyes ever after.
Stay, Suzette, how I need you! Our bond is stronger than duty or birth, for we have shared a childhood; I saved you from loneliness once, and now you might defend me. In England, a lady can gather around her any number of acquaintances - a man to partner in a dance or amuse at the dinner table, and a woman to gossip with her and behind her back - but her true friends are few.
Be once more my chére amie, Suzette.
Oh, I knew her heart was too good! She comes to me, and we are dear friends again! Ma petite, and still you might fit inside my pocket so that we should always be close; how I wish it were so. The clasp of her hands, and soft brush of her cheek - ‘Je t’aime, Margot’. Bless her!
I see Sir Andrew shares my joy; love does indeed quicken the wits. They are well suited, these two. I could not find for my Suzanne a nobler or more true-hearted match, and hers is the sweetest, most giving nature a man could ask for. They play no false parts, but measure their new roles with care.
And to Madame la Comtesse, my adieu - a kiss from a bourgeois actress!
‘Did you ever see such an unpleasant person?’ Lord Tony is smiling, he fancies me to be in jest. ‘I hope when I grow old I shan’t look like that!’
Perhaps I will, for was it not pride that withered Madame’s beauty? I married for mistaken values just as she once did, yet love blossomed for her and did not survive the harvest with Sir Percy and myself.
Now is not the time for tears, Marguerite. I will not let them see!
Then - a farce! La St Just plays Lady Fancyfull in this comedy of manners. A more appreciative, if less discerning audience, I perform for, at least. Chin up, nose in the air (eyes thankfully averted), shoulders back and chest out. I am a queen - an aristocrat - amongst men.
‘Su-zanne! I forbid you to speak to that woman!’
I did not sacrifice my talent with my art, it seems! How kind they are to me. If he were here now, would my own husband be crying ‘bravo!’ for this impromptu skit, I wonder?
‘How they must miss you at the Comédie-Française, Lady Blakeney!’ Ah, my lord, and how I miss them, my truest critics. ‘The Parisians must hate Sir Percy for having taken you away!’
‘Lud, man,’ I shrug, ‘tis impossible to hate Sir Percy for anything.’
I cannot love him, yet I have been ever true to him. For what he is and what he has given me, I shall be forever grateful to Sir Percy. If he is lacking, I have only myself to blame for taking the name of a fool.
Part Four