why the habit persisted. Everyone hoped someone else would act.
“We’ll just fill in with others,” Bethia said. This was not a problem, for the utility actors tended to show up early, and several were milling about the corridor. She and the seamstresses began fitting twenty-two-year-old Corrie Walters, flush with excitement over her first speaking part as Juliet’s nurse. While she had a feminine face with high cheekbones, full lips, and turned-up nose, her boylike figure required padding in strategic places.
“We’re taking the stuffing out of one actor and putting it in another,” Miss Lidstone quipped as Bethia began fastening a girdle about Corrie’s waist. The ruffled muslin attached gave the actress instant hips.
“I beg your pardon?” Miss Walters asked, holding arms raised.
“Mr. Whitmore,” Bethia explained. “He wore a pil—”
The door opened, and Mrs. Steel breezed into the room. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, pulling off gloves. “I had an appointment with my dressmaker.”
Mrs. Hamby let out a nervous twitter. Bethia shook her head at her and fastened another hook to the girdle. “We’re almost finished here, Mrs. Steel,” she said pleasantly.
“I’m in rather a hurry,” Mrs. Steel said.
“Then we’ll work faster. Do please have a seat.” To Miss Lidstone, Bethia said, “Will you hand me that chemise?”
The seamstress did so, but with a cautious glance toward Mrs. Steel, who was still standing, arms akimbo now.
“Please . . . I don’t mind waiting,” Miss Walters said.
Bethia was opening her mouth to explain that they only needed three more minutes at most, when she caught the pleading in Miss Walters’s expression. She breathed a silent sigh. How easy it was to take for granted the security afforded her by her prosperous family. While she strove to get on with everyone she met, it was simply because it was hernature to do so, and not out of any peril to her livelihood. But Miss Walters could ill afford to get on the wrong side of a lead actress.
She turned to Mrs. Steel. “Very well. Miss Walters is willing to wait.”
“Oh, never mind,” Mrs. Steel said abruptly, moving over to the drafting table and the open tin of shortbread Mrs. Hamby had brought in this morning. “Are these for sharing? I’ve not had lunch and feel a bit light-headed.”
Mrs. Hamby’s head bobbed. “Please, help yourself, ha-ha.”
****
By six o’clock the fittings scheduled for the day were finished. Bethia, followed by the seamstresses, descended the staircase on leaden feet. On the ground floor, Jewel stepped out of the office. “I’m glad I caught you,” she said over the pleasant strains of Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet from the orchestra in the rehearsal room. “Everyone is pleased with their costumes so far. Thank you for all of your hard work.”
Mrs. Hamby twittered and Miss Lidstone tried, unsuccessfully, not to appear too pleased. Bethia smiled, amazed at how effectively a compliment could cure fatigue. After a round of good-byes, she was turning to accompany the seamstresses on toward the lobby when her cousin said, “Can you stay a minute longer, Bethia?”
“Of course.”
“Grady’s meeting with the printers,” Jewel said, steering her to the greenroom, where actors and actresses waited during a performance for the callboy to stick his head through the doorway and give notice of who was required onstage. Five sofas and several upholstered chairs were set about, and a long mirror was propped in a corner. Hanging upon serene mauve walls were framed photographs of past performances, as well as a poster titled Rules During Performance.
Any performer not present in the greenroom at the time announced in the playbills shall forfeit eight shillings.
Any performer who keeps the stage waiting after having been called shall forfeit three shillings.
Any performer standing in the wings in sight of the audience shall forfeit two shillings.
Any performer who steps
“We’ll just fill in with others,” Bethia said. This was not a problem, for the utility actors tended to show up early, and several were milling about the corridor. She and the seamstresses began fitting twenty-two-year-old Corrie Walters, flush with excitement over her first speaking part as Juliet’s nurse. While she had a feminine face with high cheekbones, full lips, and turned-up nose, her boylike figure required padding in strategic places.
“We’re taking the stuffing out of one actor and putting it in another,” Miss Lidstone quipped as Bethia began fastening a girdle about Corrie’s waist. The ruffled muslin attached gave the actress instant hips.
“I beg your pardon?” Miss Walters asked, holding arms raised.
“Mr. Whitmore,” Bethia explained. “He wore a pil—”
The door opened, and Mrs. Steel breezed into the room. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, pulling off gloves. “I had an appointment with my dressmaker.”
Mrs. Hamby let out a nervous twitter. Bethia shook her head at her and fastened another hook to the girdle. “We’re almost finished here, Mrs. Steel,” she said pleasantly.
“I’m in rather a hurry,” Mrs. Steel said.
“Then we’ll work faster. Do please have a seat.” To Miss Lidstone, Bethia said, “Will you hand me that chemise?”
The seamstress did so, but with a cautious glance toward Mrs. Steel, who was still standing, arms akimbo now.
“Please . . . I don’t mind waiting,” Miss Walters said.
Bethia was opening her mouth to explain that they only needed three more minutes at most, when she caught the pleading in Miss Walters’s expression. She breathed a silent sigh. How easy it was to take for granted the security afforded her by her prosperous family. While she strove to get on with everyone she met, it was simply because it was hernature to do so, and not out of any peril to her livelihood. But Miss Walters could ill afford to get on the wrong side of a lead actress.
She turned to Mrs. Steel. “Very well. Miss Walters is willing to wait.”
“Oh, never mind,” Mrs. Steel said abruptly, moving over to the drafting table and the open tin of shortbread Mrs. Hamby had brought in this morning. “Are these for sharing? I’ve not had lunch and feel a bit light-headed.”
Mrs. Hamby’s head bobbed. “Please, help yourself, ha-ha.”
****
By six o’clock the fittings scheduled for the day were finished. Bethia, followed by the seamstresses, descended the staircase on leaden feet. On the ground floor, Jewel stepped out of the office. “I’m glad I caught you,” she said over the pleasant strains of Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet from the orchestra in the rehearsal room. “Everyone is pleased with their costumes so far. Thank you for all of your hard work.”
Mrs. Hamby twittered and Miss Lidstone tried, unsuccessfully, not to appear too pleased. Bethia smiled, amazed at how effectively a compliment could cure fatigue. After a round of good-byes, she was turning to accompany the seamstresses on toward the lobby when her cousin said, “Can you stay a minute longer, Bethia?”
“Of course.”
“Grady’s meeting with the printers,” Jewel said, steering her to the greenroom, where actors and actresses waited during a performance for the callboy to stick his head through the doorway and give notice of who was required onstage. Five sofas and several upholstered chairs were set about, and a long mirror was propped in a corner. Hanging upon serene mauve walls were framed photographs of past performances, as well as a poster titled Rules During Performance.
Any performer not present in the greenroom at the time announced in the playbills shall forfeit eight shillings.
Any performer who keeps the stage waiting after having been called shall forfeit three shillings.
Any performer standing in the wings in sight of the audience shall forfeit two shillings.
Any performer who steps
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