Marianne

It was a week after I had returned from Paris when I received the letter from Lisa. When I read it, I was so profoundly shocked that I had to read it several times before I could believe it was true. She wrote from Leverson Manor.

My dear Noelle,

There is so much to tell you, and I want you to hear it from me. I could not bear that you should hear it from any other source.

I wrote to you about my accident. I thought it was nothing much at first, but how wrong I was! After three weeks resting, the doctor gave me a terrible shock. He said I had injured my back permanently and, far from getting better, it was getting worse. Imagine my feeling! I had gone on that night, ready to show everyone that I was every bit as good as Lottie Langdon … and I would have done it, too. It was really my great chance … and then … this happened.

Dolly was kind in his way, but all he really thinks about is the production. I knew there was no hope of getting a place in anything else. I was finished.

I was so wretched. I just wanted to die. My life … all my ambitions … had come to nothing.

Then Roderick came to town and saw me. He was horrified by the change in me. Oh, he was so good to me, Noelle. You know he would be. He has always been good and kind to people in trouble. He understood as nobody else did what I felt like. I was frantic, really. I could not think what I should do now I could no longer work.

He took me down to Leverson Manor. Lady Constance was none too pleased, but Fiona was very good to me. She made me interested in helping her, which I was able to do. She was getting married to a young man she had met some time before through her work. He had come down to Leverson because there was a lot of work over this Neptune temple. He was now helping her and they will live in Fiona’s house, now that her grandmother is away in the hospital.

I don’t know why I’m going on like this. I suppose it is because I am trying to bring myself to tell you.

I am not at all sure how you’ll take it, after what happened between you two. I was so desperate. I was in despair. I even thought of killing myself. I might have done so if it had not been for Roderick. He knew what was in my mind. Nobody understood as he did. I had not only lost the work which meant so much to me … but a means of livelihood. You can imagine how I felt.

Well, we both had to make something of our lives, and then suddenly he said he would look after me. He would marry me.

And that is what has happened, Noelle.

I feel so different now. Charlie is very good to me. He is such a kind, good man, and so is Roderick.

Lady Constance is very angry, but you know how calm and cool she can be … at the same time letting you know how much she resents you.

I didn’t care. I had a reason to go on living.

Noelle, forgive me. I know just how you must be feeling. But it wasn’t to be, was it?

Roderick says we have to make something of our lives, and that is what we are doing.

I do hope something very good will turn up for you as it has for me. Sometimes we can’t have what we want in life, can we? We just have to take what is there.

My loving thoughts are with you.

God bless you and bring you some hope of happiness … as Roderick and I have found.

Lisa

I was stunned. Roderick and Lisa … married! I kept remembering scenes from the past. That first meeting in the park; that night she had taken my mother’s place; Roderick had been there; she had asked him to come and see her performance. Of course, right from the beginning, she had been in love with him.

Somewhere at the back of my mind, I had hoped that a miracle might happen, that everything would come right. How foolish I had been! How could it ever come right? And now … this was the end. He was married to Lisa.

I had to forget. I had to stop thinking of him.

I put the letter into a drawer, but I could not forget it. Again and again, I took it out and read it.

I had told Robert. He was deeply touched.

“Robert,” I said. “I feel adrift … floating aimlessly with no destination in sight. I am just being carried where the tide takes me. I can see it all clearly. Lisa … her career in ruins … lost as I am now. I know that he loved me, but he would understand Lisa’s plight so absolutely. He was always understanding and thoughtful of other people. She was helpless, I believe on the verge of suicide, and he saw one way of helping her … giving her a home … security … helping her to fight back.”

“It is a terrible tragedy, Noelle. I wish I could help more. I think you are happier here than you can be anywhere else.”

“I can’t stay here indefinitely, Robert.”

“Why not? Regard it as your home.”

“But it is not my home. I am doing nothing with my life.”

“You do a great deal. Marie-Christine is a different girl since you came. We have always been worried about her. Poor child, she has not had much of a life. And we are so fond of you … Angele as well as myself. So is Gerard. Don’t think of leaving us, please.”

“I don’t want to go,” I said. “I can’t think what I should do.”

“Then stay. You should go more to Paris.”

So I stayed.

The weeks were slipping away. It was nearly two months since I had received Lisa’s letter. I had replied briefly, thanking her for letting me know, and wished her and Roderick a happy future. I had heard nothing since. And it was better so.

Lars Petersen had an exhibition, and I was caught up in that. He showed my portrait, which was bought for some national collection. He was delighted. Gerard had the painting of me hanging in his studio.

“I like to see it,” he said. “It inspires me every day.”

Marie-Christine and I, with the ubiquitous Mademoiselle Dupont, were more frequently in Paris than in the country.

While they were at their lessons, I would go to the studio. I had taken to shopping in the markets, which was always an exhilarating experience, and I would take in something tasty for dejeuner. It was becoming a habit. Gerard and I would sit together, often joined by Lars Petersen or some impecunious artist looking for a free meal.

Robert was right when he said that the bohemian life was good for me.

G6rard had noticed the change in me, and one day, when we were alone, he asked me what had happened.

I could not resist telling him. I said: “Roderick is married. I shouldn’t mind, but I do. It is the best thing for him. He has married Lisa Fennell, who was understudy to my mother. She had an accident and that was the end of her theatrical career as a dancer, which was what she did best. I think he was sorry for her. He liked her, too. He was always interested in her career. On occasions I had a twinge of jealousy. And now … she is married to him. She will spend her life with him as I had intended to spend mine.”

“My poor Noelle. Life is cruel. Troubles do not come like single spies but in battalions. Does not your Shakespeare say that?”

“I believe he did, and it is true in my case.”

“But there must be a turnabout. Things will change and then everything will go right. It is a law of nature.”

“I shall never forget Roderick.”

“I know.”

“He will always be there, and always there will be the knowledge of what I have lost.”

“I understand.”

“Because of Marianne …”

“I shall never be able to forget Marianne,” he said.

A shadow fell across the door. Lars Petersen looked in.

“Something smells good,” he said. “Is there a little to spare for a poor hungry man?”

I seemed to have become haunted by Marianne. I knew exactly what she had looked like. I could not get out of my mind those sketches I had come across in Lars Petersen’s cupboard.

I asked questions about her. I talked to Marie-Christine. I tried to talk to Angele. All they would say was: “She was very beautiful.” “The most beautiful woman in the world,” said Marie-Christine. “She had the sort of looks people could not help noticing,” said Angele. “She found the country life dull. She could not have been much more than fifteen when one of the artists who had come down to see Gerard caught a glimpse of her. He wanted to paint her, and that was the beginning of her modelling career. She went to Paris. But she came back fairly frequently to see her sister and the nurse.”

There was very little I could discover which I did not already know. Yet I continued to think of her, because she had bewitched Gerard as well as others.

I suggested to Marie-Christine that we visit her aunt again.

“I think they were rather pleased to see you when you called last time,” I said.

“All right,” said Marie-Christine, “although / don’t think they care much whether I go or not.”

“Well, you are Marianne’s daughter, so let us go.”

We went and were received warmly enough. Polite questions were asked about my impressions.

“You are almost one of us now,” said Candice.

“I have certainly been here quite a long time.”

“And you have no desire to leave us?”

“It is very pleasant here, and I have not made any plans to do so.”

“We won’t let her go,” said Marie-Christine. “Every time she mentions going, we tell her she is not to.”

“I can understand that,” said Candice, smiling.