A Marriage of Convenience by Tim Jeal

his wife. All of which had about as much to do with the real Peg Woffington as milk has to do with brandy. But the play had plenty of witty lines, and once or twice a sense of pathos coming close to genuine tragedy.
    Theresa’s first entrance had disappointed Clinton. Some actressesmysteriously seemed to fill the stage and command it. But though she lacked this elusive quality, Theresa undeniably had others: a mocking laugh which could quickly turn to gravity, well-timed ironic turns of the head, alertness of eye and grace of movement. She could also convey invisible struggles with conflicting emotions. But her vivacity, clear voice, and the delicious sting, which she gave to her wittiest lines, seemed wrong for a woman evidently intended by the authors to be the epitome of mellow sensuousness and warmth. Theresa’s demure pose, concealing subdued mischief, expressed by arched eyebrows and watchful eyes, would have made her ideal for numerous roles in Restoration Comedy. She could seduce with her eyes and lips, but attempting Peg’s more blatant coquetry the effect was false. But the audience that night was a bad one—a particular disaster in comedy of any kind when response is everything .
    All the time Clinton wished that her face was not masked by a layer of white make-up in the eighteenth century manner, and further disguised by period dabs of colour on her cheeks and a prominent beauty spot. Her powdered wig made it still harder for him to judge what she would look like off the stage. At least her figure was not concealed by the tight fit of her low cut scarlet bodice which plumped up her breasts pleasingly.
    Clinton was not impressed by her until comparatively late in the play, and had till then been principally held by the theme of marriage, money and fidelity. But her reaction to the revelation that her country gentleman was married showed what she might be capable of if better cast: a subtle blend of anger, dignity and self-mockery , shot through with a sorrow that was neither maudlin nor pathetic.
    ‘You forget, sir, that I am an actress. A plaything for every profligate who can find the open sesame of the stage door. Fool to think that there was an honest man in the world and that he had shone on me. What have we to do with homes and hearths and firesides? Have we not the theatre, its triumphs and full-handed thunders of applause? Who looks for hearts beneath the masks we wear? These men applaud us, swear to us, cajole us, and yet forsooth we would have them respect us too. Stage masks may cover honest faces and hearts beat true beneath a tinselled robe.’
    The passion in her voice both pleased and puzzled Clinton, the sentiment of the speech being so much at variance with her prevaricating behaviour to Esmond. He frowned, and thought for a little; then he smiled to himself and summoned the box attendantand asked for pen and paper. It took him very little time to dash off a note and hand it to the waiting attendant for delivery.
    Dear Miss Simmonds,
    I beg a few words with you not as a devoted follower of Thespis, but as a sincere friend and colleague of Mr Danvers, to talk of what must concern you, namely his unhappy disregard for the high repute which he lately enjoyed. I shall present myself at the stage-door after the final curtain.
    Trusting to your kind consideration, I am honoured to be, dear madam, yours very truly,
             Frederick Higgs
    *
    It had rained during the performance and the gas globes over the stage door were reflected, elongated and iridescent, in the black mirror of the pavement. Clinton pushed his way through a group of waiting men, his eye caught by fur-collared coats, grey whiskers and glinting monocles. Across the road a street walker was hovering, and several urchins watched the men warily, doubtless waiting for the best opportunity to attempt to pick their pockets. Clinton announced his fictitious name to the doorman, and, to the fury of those who had been denied