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If you ask how I ended up marrying Madeline Bassett, who everyone thought was straight as a ruler and the future Countess of Sidcup, it comes down to my brother Hildebrand making a jolly old fool of himself. Not unusual, of course. The poor boy has been a few sandwiches short of a picnic since he was out of short trousers, and a million times worse when he’s around Angela Travers.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. It all started when the Box Gilbert and Sullivan Society acquired a new soprano just when we were putting on Ruddigore. Not a common occurrence, and when I heard she was twenty-four, I don’t mind telling you my heart sank. When you and your brother are the only ones with half-decent voices under the age of thirty, a new soprano under twenty-five is no joking matter. Hildebrand and I had become used to no competition for the leads. The dearth of young blood among Savoyards means that if you can belt out a half-decent tune and you’re not positively fossilised they’re falling over themselves to have three little maids whose ages don’t collectively amount to three centuries. I must say I have a good loud lung capacity.
Of course, the boys’ side has Bertram Wooster and Richard Little. But they only joined because they had crushes on me and were too shy to speak up, poor dears, and just hang around moping and mouthing the words. You’d think they hated comic opera, the way they behave. Hildebrand has been keen on G&S ever since he heard Angela’s mother was into it, so he does his best. For my part, I took it for granted I’d be Rose Maybud, until the news came in, and I wasn’t happy about fighting for the role.
One look at Madeline, and it was all over for me, for my chances of being Rose Maybud and, well, in general. Perhaps the sweetheart is a little thready on the high notes, but she looks like a cross between an angel and a fairy princess, and that is that. Watching her tripping sweetly over the stage, only a monster would resent her rather than prompting her when she forgets her lines. I resigned myself to play Pitti-Sing and Edith until I’m old enough to fight the old battleships for the decent mezzo roles. The battleaxe sisters Dahlia Travers and Julia Mannering-Phipps had dibs on Mad Margaret and Dame Hannah, so I resigned myself to play Head Bridesmaid and be happy with it.
I might have resented it if it was anyone else, but if you can look into Madeline’s huge blue eyes and resent her, you’re a demon in human form. It would be like not only treading on a flower, but grinding it into the mud. I had no choice but to give it all up and worship at her feet. Not that I'd ever let her know that.
Besides, as Lord Sidcup’s girlfriend, she would have been a shoo-in even if she wasn’t her. Sidcup likes to be a patron of the Society as part of his PR effort to cover up his murky political past, although being a Tory Stooge in the House of Lords is pretty damn murky if you ask me. When he came in to watch us rehearse, I made sure to read John Ruskin in his presence, and pretty damn pointedly, too.
We were getting ready for opening, and I was pulling a curling wand through Madeline’s golden hair. Like shaping silk made of sunshine, really, and I got to watch her in the mirror as she complained about Sidcup, which was quite enjoyable. No way a man like that deserved Madeline; but then, no man does. I was daydreaming that I’d have the courage to tell her, when Dahlia swept in.
"Disaster, girls!" she boomed.
"Oh, how terrible," Madeline said politely, as I stopped fiddling with the curling wand and started weaving silk roses into her hair. "And as I was saying, darling, I said that the tiny children playing in the orchard were like dear little pixies feasting on fruit grown for them by goblins, and do you know what he said? That if pixies stole his apples he'd complain to their parents too! And where do I get off calling him a goblin?"
I must have been a bit reckless from the darling, because I said, "What an utter monster."
"He is, isn't he?" Madeline's huge blue eyes looked plaintively at me, or rather at the mirror. I could see them, so it was all much the same. "I knew you'd understand, darling. You're such a pure and compassionate soul. I could tell the first time I met you."
"I could tell the first time I met you that you're the bee’s roller-skates," I said, my, head floating at the second darling in a row. Not that she meant anything by it. She just has an affectionate nature. Still, I could pretend.
"Sorry to interrupt all this girlish bonding, but we have a problem. My daughter's hat blew off into a fish-pond and that idiot son of an unmarried mother Tuppy dived after it."
"You mean my mother?" I asked, icily. I was not spending my perfect moment with Madeline discussing my brother with Mad Margaret.
"Sorry, dear, forgot. Anyway, your baby brother's knocked up in hospital with concussion."
"Poor Tuppy!" said Madeline, like the tender-hearted angel she is. "Did he hit his head on the side?"
"On the bottom. It was only two feet deep. When I see him, I'll give him concussion. Angela doesn't even like that hat much. Girls, whatever are we to do?"
"Don't be too hard on him. It was very romantic," said Madeline, showing once again the beauty and sensitivity of her nature. "Was dear Angela touched?"
"Thinks he's touched in the head. As soon as she was sure he was all right she laughed her head off. They'll probably be engaged by tomorrow and Honoria will be calling me Aunty. But you’re missing the point: we are without a Dick Dauntless. I suppose we need to cancel."
"We can't possibly!" Madeline said. For a moment I thought her tone was sharp, but then her glorious eyes were swimming with tears. I swore to myself to do anything necessary to dry them. After all, with eyes the size of hers, we were liable to drown if she really got started. "It's my first starring role."
"Well, dear, I don't know what else we're supposed to do. God knows we're not exactly the Royal Opera, but the thought of one of the louts in the chorus playing Dick is hardly to be borne."
"What about Bertie?" Madeline fiddled with one of the silk roses in her hair, as if she knew herself it was a hopeless selection.
"Madeline, I would pay good money to see my nephew in a starring role, but I'm not sure anybody else would enjoy the joke."
"I know Bertie—" Madeline and I said, at the same time. Twin souls, or something.
"You should know him," Dahlia said, "You've been engaged to him often enough."
"Only once!" I said, at the same moment Madeline said, "Only a few times, dear."
"A few times," I said blankly. What on Earth was that man’s fatal appeal? I couldn’t see it myself, even though I’d taken pity on him once.
"Not so many times." Madeline looked a little guilty, her long lashes fluttering over her eyes, a taking blush probably forming on her cheeks if you could tell under the pancake make-up.
"Six. at last count." Dahlia helped herself to the flask of brandy I kept hidden in my drawer for emergencies. I had no idea how she'd found it, and I was too enraged to care.
"Six! The absolute rotter!"
Madeline thrust out her lower lip, kissably, and oh how I longed to kiss it. "Oh, no. He's a pure and innocent boy, and it breaks my heart that I can't return his gentle love. He's a bit like a knight of Eleanor of Aquitaine's court, you know, pining gently and undemandingly. He never says a word, but I can feel his love every time his eyes fall unexpectedly on me. They widen so, as if in shock that I’m there."
I felt a little better about Madeline, although I supposed it was moot when she was practically engaged to that louse Sidcup. Still. How dare he pine over Madeline? She never noticed my pining. "I always felt his eyes looked rather like a fish's," I said, uncharitably.
"Well, perhaps a little," Madeline conceded, "but a very kind and devoted fish." Madeline's voice became a little hard, which was odd, as Madeline's voice is like, well, the wind whispering through daisies, although I would feel terribly silly saying so. Only girls like Madeline can say things like that and not seem ridiculous. I don’t know why it is, but hockey and poetry rarely go together, and I’ve always been rather good at hockey. "So, how did you end up engaged to him?" I thought—I hoped, rather—that she sounded a little jealous, but that was silly of me.
"Same reason every girl does," said Bertram’s aunt. "When they get bored, they decide to be engaged to Bertie for a while. Nothing to worry about. Leave it a bit and the impulse wears off."
"Hmm," said Madeline, thoughtfully. I wondered what she was thinking. Something pretty and whimsical, probably.
I was thinking, too. Most of all I was thinking that if Madeline had been engaged to Bertram six times, I’d be damned if I was letting him play a romantic lead opposite him, fish-eyes or not.
"I'll do it," I said. "I know the part. I've heard Hildebrand's lines and sung the songs with him often enough."
"How could you possibly? You're a girl!" Dahlia said, which was quite complimentary about my age, actually.
"I can dance a hornpipe pretty well, if I do say so myself And my range is good enough to make an attempt at a tenor role. Well, good enough at least for amateur."
Madeline gave me a long, considering look. "You know, I think you'd be splendid." It was like fire buzzing all the way up and down my spine, to hear that in her trusting voice.
Dahlia reflected. "Well, it will be good for a laugh, anyway. Let’s try and squeeze you into the costume."
Not very encouraging, but Madeline was looking at me as if I was the only gallant knight in the business, and that was all I asked. If I couldn’t win my princess’s love, I could at least ride to her rescue.
Normally when I'm on stage, I'm very conscious of the audience, rustling and chewing and whispering, but the moment Madeline came on stage with me, there was nothing there but her, curls clustered around her face, the biggest blue eyes in the universe fixed on mine. My heart began to hammer like no one's business. You see, when I'd decided to take the role and save Madeline's moment of glory, I hadn't fully considered the implications. I was going to be there, in full public, speaking words of love to her. and perhaps, if I said them sincerely enough, she would hear how much I adored her and understand my heart. That was all I asked. I couldn't expect a fairy princess to love a great galumphing girl like me.
I opened my mouth, and spoke Gilbert's timeliness and romantic lines of love.
"Parbuckle me," I said tenderly, "If you ain't the loveliest gal I've ever set eyes on."
Madeline gave a little start and a gasp. Of course, Rose Maybud was a sweet and modest girl, and Madeline was a gifted actress. We got through our next lines, although my heart was pounding in my ears so hard I could barely hear, and then I realised something else I hadn't fully thought about, even though my heart had ached every time I saw Hildebrand play the scene.
"But, axin' your pardon, miss." I usually have no trouble with projection, but my throat was dry, and it came out in a fairly embarrassing squeak. I felt faint, blood rushing into my face and setting me aflame. "Might I be permitted to salute the flag I'm a-goin' to be sailin' under?"
Madeline stared at me without saying a word. I began to worry. Had she dried up? I tried to indicate the etiquette book in her hand and remind her that Rose was supposed to consult it to see if kissing her fiancé was allowed, but suddenly she whispered, "Yes, darling," and lifted her flowerlike face to mine.
I’ve kissed girls before, of course. I studied at Girton, for heaven’s sake. But the feel of Madeline's lips, sticky with stage make-up, was like nothing else I'd ever felt. It took forever, and I could hear a murmur from the audience, but I just couldn’t stop kissing her. Every time she pulled away, I chased out of instinct, and she came back in her sweet self. I was drunk with kissing, drunk with the smell of make-up and her rose perfume and oh, Madeline.
Then it was over. Why was it over? I managed my next lines somehow, and George Threepwood, who was playing Robin, came on. We did our trio and then he swept Madeline away. Or rather, Robin swept sweet Rose Maybud away, and I swear I felt every shattering blow of pain poor Dick Dauntless felt as I saw her sway off stage, George's arm around her slender waist.
The damnable thing was, Madeline really was going to marry someone else. If anyone has a prosperous lot, Sidcup does, and my true heart and true love and straight bat at cricket would be nothing against it.
I didn’t think Madeline even liked girls that way.
When I found Madeline backstage on the interval, she was crying her precious heart out, and I felt like dying, truly, I did, especially when I heard what she was telling Dahlia.
"And he said I made a fool of myself, kissing someone else on stage like that. That if I had to do it, it should have been a chaste peck not—not—swallowing each other’s mouths. I had no idea he could be so crude. He said he can't sit in the House of Lords supporting traditional values and have a future wife acting like a floozy in public."
"Did you knock his block off?" asked Dahlia.
"No. I was not angry." Madeline lifted her chin, tears streaking her make-up. "I was disappointed."
"Oh. That serious?"
"I have learned such terrible things about his character the last few months. I thought he was a gentleman, but I have been sadly deceived. And I told him that perhaps it was better not to be his future wife at all, if he was going to be like that about it."
Dahlia whistled. I was shaking too violently to speak.
Dahlia whistled. "Whoo—ee, you gave up at the Countess's coronet just like that?"
For a moment, Madeline seemed to waver, and then she lifted her chin. "No crown could make up for missing out the dazzling rainbows of true love."
"Good. I always thought he was an odious kind of oik."
I made a strange sound, somewhere between a snort and a laugh and a sob, and Madeline seemed to realise I was there. "Honoria?"
I came forward, trembling, and met Madeline's brave blue gaze. "Madeline, I'm sorry, except—"
"Don't be. He truly was an odious oik, and I’ve had a glad and happy escape." Madeline smiled at me and extended a gracious hand. "Help me fix my make-up for the second act?"
I can’t say I remember much of the second act. The after-party, though, was riotous. Sidcup was nowhere to be found, Bertram was fully occupied with a young man called Reginald, and left Madeline purely to me.
There was no way I was going to let her weep again. I set her down in a corner, plied her with champagne, and told her at great length and detail how beautiful she looked on stage, how lovely her voice was, and how she was too good for a former Brownshort like that anyway.
"Do tell me more," sighed Madeline, adding generously, "You were magnificent, too. So courageous, to step into the breach like that."
"Just my luck," I said, summoning all the courage she thought I had, "that I play the one tenor lead who doesn't get the girl."
"I wouldn't be so certain of that," Madeline said, and lifted her face again, just like she had on stage.
It took a moment for me to realise that I was expected to kiss her, and when I caught on, I hurried up and got to it as fast as I could. I crushed her in my arms and covered her delicate face with little kisses in the best approved manner, and when I reached her lips, well. The kissing on stage was nothing compared to the real thing. For a start, there was rather more tongue, now. For a fairy-like, innocent girl, Madeline is a hell of a kisser.
Well, I wasn’t going to let go of a good thing once I had it. I was aware that both Bertie and Spode had failed in getting her to the finish line—there was someone called Algernon, too, and I believe she dated Angela at one point, although I didn’t know it at the time—and you can’t expect a wonder of a girl like Madeline to wait a long time. I don’t see how anyone could wait, with the chance to marry a girl like her, anyway. Besides, it turns out that Daddy was owed quite a lot of money for that Runkle’s Magic headache remedy business. I can keep Madeline in the state to which she is accustomed, thanks to Big Pharma. I mean, I’m still a socialist in principle, but one has to be practical, and Madeline does love her dainty little things and Riviera holidays. So we allowed long enough to have her dress made and book the Zoo as a wedding venue, and then we stood up and promised to love and cherish for all time.
And that’s how I ended up married to the prettiest soprano in Wiltshire, while wearing a sailor costume. The most handsome and romantic Dauntless ever, Madeline said.
Hildebrand says I can have all the tenor roles in future, for all he cares. Turns out Angela prefers modern musicals anyway.