Read Online Drury Lane Darling by Joan Smith - Free Book Online Page B

finished.”
    “Perhaps it will resume normal proportions when it is rejected.”
    An angry flare shot from her catlike eyes. “You mean you don’t intend to produce it! Breslau, that’s horrid! Why on earth did you ask him to write it then?”
    “It will be a learning experience for him.”
    She wished to say a good deal more on the subject, but Nigel was stirring to life at the grate. His hand left his brow and began to draw random figures in the air. His head nodded as though he were speaking to some invisible listener. His lips even moved, though no sounds issued forth.
    “Is he having a fit?” Pamela asked.
    “A fit of inspiration, I fear.”
    Nigel turned a beaming face on them. “By Jove, I’ve got it, Wes. Listen to this! You’ll love it, and so will Fleur. I shall write a dramatization of her memoirs. The woman’s had an incredible life. Did you know the Frenchies were after her to spy for them? They hounded her mercilessly. I’ve been running a few ideas through my mind and come up with the perfect opening. Her arrival at Brighton in the lugger—the crux of the whole thing.”
    Breslau blinked. “How did you plan to get an ocean and a lugger onstage?” he asked.
    “That’s your department. Damme, they had an elephant and sixteen horses in Bluebeard, and made money on it, too. It was a roaring success.”
    “But still, an ocean…”
    “A painted ocean,” Pamela suggested.
    “She’s got the idea,” Nigel agreed, with the first smile shown Pamela since her arrival.
    “It’s an interesting notion,” Breslau admitted. “The publicity from the book and play would feed each other, and to have Fleur playing herself—yes, it has comedic possibilities.”
    “By the living jingo, it’s perfect!” Nigel said. “Fraught with—with everything. I’ll even put in a little comedy to please you, Wes. The scene where Fleur is escaping in the cart of turnip—now that could be humorous, in a bloodcurdling sort of way.”
    “You said it was going to open with her arrival at Brighton,” Pam reminded him.
    “We’re in the preliminary stages. I’m not sure Paris ain’t the place to start. The crux of the whole thing. She had some pretty good stuff in her opening chapter.”
    “You could paint the backdrop of Paris, too,” Pam said hastily.
    Breslau found another objection. “Before you go any further, Nigel, you really ought to discuss it with Fleur. If the plan is to dramatize her book, then she’ll have to approve it. She’ll expect a share of the royalties.”
    “Dash it, I’ll be doing the writing! I’ve practically rewritten the whole mess, if you want the truth. Honestly, you wouldn’t believe what she calls a sentence.”
    Breslau had heard quite enough of the play, and said rather imperatively, “Still, you’ll have to clear it up with her before you go any further. I don’t plan to referee a plagiarism suit. You can discuss it tomorrow.”
    “I’ll discuss it now,” Nigel announced. “Fleur ain’t sleeping.”
    He flung out of the room and pelted off to her suite.
    “Now see what you’ve done,” Pamela scolded. “Lady Raleigh would throw a fit if she knew he was going to her room.”
    “Who suggested writing from life?” he asked. “Actually it’s a good idea. I wonder who I could get to write the play.”
    “Breslau! Nigel is writing it! You can’t pull it out from under him!”
    Breslau gave a guilty start, and silently cursed himself. “I meant who could help Nigel put a final polish on it. He’s a rank amateur. This idea is too good to risk dwindling to a mediocre melodrama.”
    Her color rose, and her eyes flashed. “You’re a perfect beast!”
    “Surely not perfect!” Despite his facetious reply, he knew she was right. He also knew no other lady would have told him so to his face in such angry accents. Before he had time to conciliate her, Nigel was back.
    He stood in the doorway, his face the color of snow, and his eyes staring wildly.
    “Won’t she