Mrs Bennet and the Body in the Library

By Susannah Donim

Chapter Seven – Awards and Opportunities

Interlude: Mike’s time as Mrs Bennet is over – or is it? A new opportunity comes up and Holly is determined to make the most of it…

The casts of all the four shows were told to gather in the auditorium after we had changed out of our costumes. Holly had saved me a seat next to her on the front row. She knew I would be the last to arrive as it took so long to remove my costume and Mrs Bennet’s makeup and wig. My face was pink and blotchy after cleaning off all that latex. Sheila and Esther came along with me and found seats directly behind us.

Dr MacNair and three of our other lecturers were sitting on the stage. Soon Professor Rooney, the Head of the English and Drama Department, got to his feet and called for hush.

“Well done, everyone,” he began, “and thank you for an excellent evening’s entertainment. Speaking on behalf of the lecturers and staff in the Department, we know that you’ve all worked very hard this year, as I’m sure will be reflected in your exam results, due out on Monday…”

Groans from the audience.

“…and we would like to wish you all a very fruitful and enjoyable summer holiday, to return refreshed and eager to learn next term.”

Do all senior educators get their speeches from the same book? His audience was getting restless.

“But before we let you go, there is the small matter of awards.” A hush fell. “First, the Best Actress award – and I should say that all four of us were unanimous in this – goes to Holly Woodbridge for Elizabeth in the Pride and Prejudice adaptation.”

So Holly received her second solo round of applause of the evening, the most vigorous clapping coming from our group, of course.

“Come up here, Holly,” continued the Prof. “We have an envelope for you.”

Holly bounced up onto the stage. You could tell it was the best day of her life (apart from when she met me, of course).

The Prof handed her an envelope, saying, “Open it later, dear, then no one will see how disappointed you are.” Laughter from the audience. “Did you want to say anything?”

For a moment she looked blank, then she realised what he was suggesting.

“Oh! Oh, yes,” she said. “I’d like to thank Dr MacNair for the brilliant Literary Adaptation course and for setting all this up for us.”

I heard Derek and Douglas calling, “Hear, hear!” The rest of us made enthusiastic but unintelligible mutterings. Holly ploughed on.

“And I must thank my partner, Mike, for his unflinching support.”

Actually I would say I had flinched quite a lot over the last few weeks, but I wasn’t going to argue. It was just good to be appreciated.

“And finally I want to say ‘thank-you’ to Amy Longhurst, who directed my biggest scenes and was also a wonderful Lady Catherine. Most of the ideas for how I should play those scenes came from her, and I’d like to say here and now, that if she eventually decides she doesn’t want to act after all, she will be a brilliant Director!”

As it happens Amy was sitting on my other side. I turned to her and she was grinning and blushing and couldn’t seem to decide which of the two to focus on.

The ‘Best Actor’ award went to the boy who had played Othello in the ‘Performing Shakespeare’ group’s piece. From what I’d heard, that was well-deserved. We had hoped that we might win the ‘Best Group’ award, but that went to the ‘Improvisation’ course team. I had never had the chance to see their effort, but Esther leaned forward and whispered to us that it was utter rubbish, but ‘everyone must get prizes’.

With the awards over, we all got up to go home, but Dr MacNair had rushed down to the edge of the stage and stopped us.

“Would all the Pride and Prejudice cast just stay for a minute?” he asked. “Something interesting has come up.” He squinted through the dim auditorium into the audience. “I see Sheila and Esther are out there. You might like to hang on for a moment too.”

He sat down between two footlight units, his legs dangling into the tiny orchestra pit. He waited till the rest of the audience had filed out and all his students had made their way down to the front row.

“I don’t know what arrangements you’ve all made for the summer,” he began, “but I have something that may interest you. It’s six weeks’ work from late June to early August, so it won’t take up all your holiday time. It’s fairly well paid, as these things go, and it will be good for your CVs and count towards membership of Equity.”

That certainly sounded attractive to me. I needed the money, and if it was valid acting experience I knew Holly would be keen. We might have the chance to work together! Then afterwards I could afford to accompany her wherever she wanted to go for the rest of the Long Vacation. Looking around at my friends, I could see that many of them were excited too.

“Before I go into detail, I don’t want to waste your time if you aren’t interested, or are already committed to other activities during the relevant period.” He smiled. “I know it’s been a long, demanding day for you all, so if this opportunity isn’t for you, please feel free to get off home to bed.”

“Thanks for thinking of us, Dr MacNair,” said Jack, as he got to his feet. “It sounds interesting, and I would have liked to take you up on it, but I’ve arranged to do camp counselling in North Carolina all summer.”

Two of the girls said something similar about prior commitments and got up to leave with him.

“That’s fine, guys,” MacNair said, “and many thanks for all your hard work on this little production. Have a great summer!”

After they had left, he turned back to his remaining audience. “OK, everyone. I invited Dennis Vaughan, an old friend of mine, to this afternoon’s performance,” he continued, “because I knew he was looking for young actors for something he’s setting up. He was very impressed with you all and is prepared to offer many of you roles in his project.

“It’s like this: a large eighteenth century property not far from here is currently being renovated. A lot of progress has been made, but the owners are running out of money to finish the job. So they’re looking for ways of using the building to raise revenue. Since it’s much like Jane Austen’s description of Longbourn, and still contains a lot of Regency furniture, decorations, and knick-knacks, they’ve hit on the idea of opening it up to the public as ‘The Pride and Prejudice Experience’. Dennis has been asked to organise it. Visitors will be decked out in Regency costumes and will wander round the house and grounds, seeing how life was lived at that time, and talking with members of the Bennet family and their guests.

“You will play the roles you played today. There will be no script but Dennis has drafted in experts to give you detailed briefings about the lives of the sorts of people you’ll be playing. Customers will come in and see you at various times of the day – getting dressed in the morning, mealtimes, recreational activities, dressing for dinner, maybe even going to bed at night. You will improvise conversations with them and answer their questions in character.”

My earlier excitement evaporated. I couldn’t play Mrs Bennet at close quarters in the bedroom or drawing room even if I wanted to. It was all very well to convince people I was a middle-aged woman for five minutes from twenty feet away, when I was in stage makeup and under harsh lighting. I couldn’t do it for half an hour or so sitting round the dining table with them. It would be obvious I was neither forty nor a woman. Still, maybe I could get one of the other male parts? Maybe Mr Bennet, as Jack wasn’t available? After all, it would be better to play Holly’s father than her mother!

“Dennis is prepared to guarantee each of you £1,500 for six weeks’ work, with bonuses possible if the venture is more successful than they have budgeted for. That’s on top of free accommodation and catering, by the way,” MacNair said.

He focused on Sheila and Esther for a moment. “Dennis wants to involve you ladies too. Obviously there will be lots of work in costuming, makeup and hairdressing – for the visitors as well as the cast – and he was particularly impressed with your contributions today. He promises to make the arrangements with your other employers, if you want. He realises you won’t want to lose any of your regular contracts. Now, is everyone here still interested?”

“What about Mike?” asked Holly abruptly, before anyone else could respond.

“Ah yes,” said MacNair, “Mike… First, let me say that the main reason why Dennis came today was because of the difficulty of finding appropriate young actors. You’re all better qualified than most drama students. You have the benefit of two years of university education, plus a focus on the Regency period through your work adapting Pride and Prejudice, to say nothing of your detailed knowledge of the characters. But he didn’t expect any of you to play the older roles, like Mr and Mrs Bennet or Lady Catherine. So he wouldn’t have cast Jack as Mr Bennet, for example. He gave a fine performance, but it was obvious he wasn’t middle-aged, despite the excellent makeup.”

He turned to Amy, the only other member of the cast playing older than her actual age.

“Dennis doesn’t envisage using Lady Catherine at all I’m afraid, Amy,” he said, “but he would be happy for you to play Hill, the maid. There’s no reason why she shouldn’t be your own real age, of course. You won’t need ageing make-up.”

I looked at Amy. She was clearly disappointed that she wasn’t going to reprise her star turn as Lady Catherine, but even playing the dull part of the maid would be useful acting experience, as well as earning her some money. I knew she had been looking for a summer job; her family weren’t wealthy.

“Which brings me to Mike,” MacNair continued. “Let me put it this way. Dennis was very keen that the talented mature student he saw playing Mrs Bennet should join the project. He thought she was brilliant and would hold all the scenes inside the house together.”

He paused to let his words sink in. So Mr Vaughan thought I was a mature student and a woman? I was pleased that I had fooled this friend of his, but I really didn’t want to spend the first half of the summer vacation pretending to be a forty-year-old mother.

“I wanted to ask you what you thought, Mike, before telling Dennis that ‘Michelle Bradshaw’ wasn’t quite what she seemed. Of course, I’d support you if you think you could get away with it, but I doubt he would be so keen if he knew the truth. It would be too risky for him. If you were exposed as a man, it might wreck the whole project. Also, I realise that playing Mrs Bennet for six more weeks might present certain practical difficulties for you…”

“You’re not kidding!” I said. “I might be able to fool people on stage but I could never do it face-to-face in normal light!”

“Nobody suspected anything in the restaurant tonight though, did they?” said Holly. “I think you’d get away with it easily.”

MacNair looked at her in surprise. There were startled reactions from the others around me too, mostly terminating in sniggers.

“Actually, I might have a suggestion…” Sheila said. Everyone turned round to look at her. “An old colleague of mine runs a very successful business making people look like other people. I’m quite sure she could fix you up. She’d make it so that no one would suspect a thing.”

“Fantastic!” said Holly. “How do we get in touch with her?”

“Just a minute!” I protested. “I’m not sure I want to…”

“Course you do,” she said firmly. “Money, acting experience for your Equity card – what’s not to like?”

“I… I…”

“We’ll have six weeks of fun in Regency England, then a month on the Riviera… Florence, Rome, Venice…”

I wasn’t sure whether Holly knew that Florence, Rome and Venice weren’t on the Riviera, but that wasn’t uppermost in my mind at that moment.

“Well, if he isn’t keen, Holly…” began MacNair, but even he couldn’t derail the Holly Express when it was getting up steam.

“It’s fine, Dr MacNair. You can tell Mr Vaughan that Miss Bradshaw – or is it Mrs? – and I will be delighted to join him. Sheila, can I have your clever friend’s contact details?”

She went off to consult with Sheila and Esther.

“Well… er… fine,” said MacNair. “OK, if everyone who wants to join ‘The Pride and Prejudice Experience’ would just sign this sheet, I’ll get the ball rolling.”

He put a pad of paper and a ballpoint on the stage and stood back.

Sam was one of the first to sign. Then she came up to me while Holly was talking to Sheila.

“Holly does rather walk all over you, doesn’t she?” Sam said. I think she was being sympathetic.

“She’s a very strong-minded person,” I said. “But she can never make me do anything I really don’t want to do.”

“But you really didn’t want to play Mrs Bennet in the first place, did you?” Sam persisted. “She told me she had to talk you into it. You were going to go to MacNair and refuse.”

Why had Holly told Sam that? Sam, of all people!

“I just think a relationship should be about give and take,” she continued. “I can’t imagine ever making a boyfriend of mine dress up as a woman.”

She patted me on the shoulder and walked off.

I noticed she was quite sexy, Sam, actually. I had wondered whether my exposure to all this femininity in the last couple of weeks might have had some lasting effect, but apparently not.

“Come on then, Michelle,” called Holly. “I’ve signed the sheet for us both. I’m going to set up a WhatsApp group for the cast so that we can keep in touch easily.”

* * *

The next day, Sunday, we slept late. I didn’t try to get Holly to change her mind. I just figured Sheila’s friend’s efforts would prove a bust (as it were). Holly would realise it and I’d be off the hook. Besides, arguing with her was tiring and usually pointless, as I’ve explained. Maybe there would be some other job I could do at The Pride and Prejudice Experience.

Apparently, you couldn’t call Transformations (as it turned out they were called). They were super-secretive and would only deal with people they knew. That didn’t sound like a viable business model to me, but what did I know? Anyway, Sheila promised to talk to her friend, explain what we needed, and give her Holly’s number.

Perhaps they wouldn’t be interested. Perhaps they wouldn’t call.

* * *

Monday marked the beginning of the last week of term. E-mails arrived with our exam results mid-morning. I was very happy with my 2:1. Holly got a 2:2, which was quite a relief for her, as her parents had threatened economic sanctions if she didn’t manage at least a Lower Second. She acknowledged that she couldn’t have done it without my help. I tried to trade on that to persuade her not to make me be Mrs Bennet again, but she ignored my pleas and changed the subject.

My e-mail included a summons to see my tutor in the afternoon, to discuss the year that was ending and to talk about next term. When we met, he said I could get a First in my Finals next year if I put my mind to it. I said that I wanted to drop Drama to concentrate on Creative Writing.

He tried to talk me out of it. He had seen me in the show and been impressed. He asked what I had in mind for my career, and I had to admit that the only thing that appealed was writing for stage or screen. He persuaded me that in that case dropping Drama would be daft. Also, if I went into Teaching (say), Drama would be another string to my bow. I promised him I would think about it further, and he wished me happy holidays. (I didn’t mention that I might be spending the next six weeks as a mother of five in 1813.)

On Tuesday, Transformations called Holly to offer us a morning slot the following Wednesday to discuss turning me into a middle-aged lady for the next six weeks. She quickly accepted on my behalf. This would be only just in time as we (or maybe just Holly) were due to join The Pride and Prejudice Experience on Friday. That meant that if they were successful I had only eight more days as myself.

The rest of the last week of term was all parties. Sam and Amy arranged the best one at the Students’ Union. Sam had suggested fancy dress but she was shouted down, as most of us were going to be spending quite enough time in costume that summer. So it was just a standard modern party: DJ, strobe lights, too much booze, and lots of fumbling in the dark. A couple of unsavoury characters who nobody seemed to know were circulating, apparently offering chemical delights, but they didn’t seem to get many customers and they left early.

A good time was had by all, except that at one point Douglas insisted on slow dancing with Holly. I was about to protest when Sam grabbed me and dragged me onto the dance floor. She was warm and cuddly and she couldn’t keep her hands to herself. As always with slow dances between young people lacking proper dance training (apparently we would get that in Drama next year), each couple just rotated slowly, trying not to tread on each other’s feet.

At one point in our rotations Holly and I were looking straight at each other. She seemed cross, perhaps because Sam’s hands were exploring my backside. I shrugged. Nights in White Satin came on next and we both separated from our partners and grabbed each other. So nothing came of either temporary mismatch. I noticed Douglas approaching Sam, but she just turned her nose up and stalked off.

Saturday was the University Summer Ball at the biggest hotel in town. Hired dinner suits for the men, posh frocks for the women. Some of the girls claimed to resent how much easier it was for us guys at these old-fashioned formal balls, but they tended to calm down when they saw our jaws dropping at the sight of them in their finery.

Holly was far and away the most beautiful woman there (as some of the other girls grudgingly admitted). I suggested she should consider a career in modelling, rather than acting.

“Don’t be silly,” she said, scathingly but obviously pleased by the compliment. “I’m not tall enough.”

“Or thin enough,” said Sam, who always seemed to be in the right place to put her oar in.

Holly and I stayed up all night and got stupidly drunk. When we did eventually get to bed we found ourselves discussing marriage for some reason – purely academically, of course. We discovered that neither of us was against the idea in principle, but we fell asleep without making any coherent plans.

* * *

I had to move out of the Hall of Residence on the Sunday morning. We weren’t allowed to leave any of our stuff as the room would be used for summer schools and conferences during the Long Vac. This was no hardship for me as I could leave everything at Holly’s flat. From there we were both heading back to our parents’ homes and expected to be apart until my appointment at Transformations the following Wednesday.

I got home late on Sunday afternoon. My mother and stepfather were upstairs in their bedroom. Open suitcases covered every surface. Keith was brushing down his dinner suit.

“Oh good! You’re back,” my mother said, and rushed over to hug me. “We were afraid we were going to miss you. Why didn’t you call?”

“Er, I’ve been busy – exams, end of term show – you know.”

“You were in a show?” she said. “Why didn’t you tell us? We’d have come!”

Which of course is exactly why I didn’t tell them.

“It was nothing important. I was only on stage for five minutes. So… you’re going somewhere?” I said.

“We booked a last minute cruise – Caribbean and the Gulf coast,” said Keith. “Didn’t you get our letter?”

His company having suffered badly from hacking in the past, Keith had something of a phobia about e-mails and texts. He still believed in snail mail. It was sweet, really.

“If you sent it to the Hall of Residence, I haven’t been there since last weekend,” I said. “I only picked up my mail today when I checked out, and I haven’t opened any of it yet.”

“Oh, Darling…” my mother began reproachfully.

“Never mind,” I said. “It wouldn’t have made any difference. I couldn’t have got back any earlier. Term only ended this week and last night was the Summer Ball.”

“Oh yes,” she said. “How is Holly?”

“Amazing,” I said happily. “She won Best Actress in the show. I’ve got some pictures I can show you.”

There wouldn’t be any pictures of me though – obviously.

“That would be lovely! We can have dinner together. Only leftovers, I’m afraid. But there’s plenty of food for you in the freezer for the next week or so.”

“When are you off?”

“At Sparrow’s Fart tomorrow morning,” said Keith. “Taxi to Southampton. We have to be on board by half ten. We sail at noon.”

* * *

It was a great evening. Keith was generous with the wine and conversation. I took the opportunity to ask him about his work.

“A Property Developer adds value to land or property,” he began. “This might be something small like building an extension, or doing a loft conversion, or just renovating or redecorating. On a larger scale, we might convert a big house into flats, or buy up an old office block and convert it into smart new apartments. Then we can sell the property on for more than we paid for it and turn a nice profit; or rent it out and get a steady income that way. That’s how I started out. I concentrated on flats for singletons and starter homes for young marrieds – small stuff at first. Nowadays I have the funding to take on much bigger projects, like buying undeveloped land and building new estates, or blocks of flats, or commercial offices on it. Sometimes I buy a dilapidated property, knock it down, and build something new. I spent most of today on a site where we’re building new warehouses. Every day’s different.”

“It sounds much more interesting than I expected,” I said when he paused to refill our glasses.

“You should think about it,” he said, seriously. “It would be great if someone in the family joined the firm, for when I… retire. Hannah certainly doesn’t want to know. Her only concern is spending money, not making it.”

He smiled ruefully, but there was sadness behind his eyes.

“It’s my own fault,” he said. “Her mother spoiled her rotten, and I was too busy building my business to take any interest in raising my daughter properly. I thought packing her off to boarding school would help, but it just made things worse.”

My mother took his hand. He looked tired. He was probably well overdue a good holiday.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said. “Hannah’s not your concern. Tell me more about what you want to do. Maybe I can help.”

“I’m hoping for a writing career of some kind,” I said, “but lots of struggling writers have to work a proper job while waiting for their first publishing success. Property development certainly sounds more interesting than…” I couldn’t think of a suitable comparison. “Well, than anything else I’ve thought of.”

“I can arrange an internship at the firm, if you’d like,” he said. “Let’s talk about it when we get back.”

“I’ve got something lined up until mid-August. But after that, definitely.”

They wanted to know what I was going to be doing, of course. I mumbled something vague about historical re-enactment.

Next: A More Convincing Transformation