‘“How now, who calls?”’
Kat Nichols, who was playing the role of Nurse, let out an audible sigh of relief.
‘“Your mother.”’
‘“Madam, I am here. What is your will?”’
The actress playing Lady Capulet stepped forward to speak her lines, and the conversation between Lady Capulet and the Nurse allowed Mina a few seconds to compose herself. Her hesitation had been brief and she prayed that the audience had been unaware of her lapse in concentration. But Joshua would not have missed it. The play’s director was standing in the wings and even without glancing at him Mina sensed his irritation. Joshua Hart demanded perfection from every member of the cast, but especially from his daughter.
Mina knew she had ignored one of acting’s golden rules when she had broken the ‘fourth wall’—the imaginary wall between the actors on stage and the audience. For a few moments she had stepped out of character of the teenage Juliet and given the audience a glimpse of her true self—Mina Hart, a twenty-five year-old partially deaf actress.
It was unlikely that anyone in the audience was aware of her hearing impairment. Few people outside the circle of her family and close friends knew that as a result of contracting meningitis when she was eight she had been left with serious hearing loss. The digital hearing aids she wore were small enough to fit discreetly inside her ears and were hidden by her long hair. The latest designed aids enabled her to have a telephone conversation and listen to music. Sometimes she could almost forget how lonely and cut off she had felt as a deaf child who had struggled to cope in a world that overnight had become silent.
Although Mina had complete confidence in her hearing aids, old habits remained. She was an expert at lip-reading and from instinct rather than necessity she watched Lady Capulet’s lips move as she spoke.
‘“Tell me, daughter Juliet, how stands your dispositions to be married?”’
The exquisite poetry of Shakespeare’s prose was music to Mina’s ears and touched her soul. Reality slipped away. She was not an actress, she was Juliet, a maid of not yet fourteen who was expected to marry a man of her parents’ choosing, a girl on the brink of womanhood who was not free to fall in love, unaware that by the end of the night she would have lost her heart irrevocably to Romeo.
Speaking in a clear voice, Juliet replied to her mother.
‘“It is an honour that I dream not of.”’
The play continued without further hitches, but in one corner of her mind Mina was aware that the man in the audience didn’t take his eyes off her.
* * *
Shakespeare’s tale of star-crossed lovers was drawing to its tragic conclusion. After standing for more than two hours, Prince Aksel Thoresen’s legs were beginning to ache, but he barely registered the discomfort. His eyes were riveted on the stage, as Juliet, kneeling by her dead husband Romeo, picked up a dagger and plunged the blade into her heart.
A collective sigh from the audience rippled around the theatre like a mournful breeze. Everyone knew how the ill-fated love story ended, but as Juliet’s lifeless form slumped across the body of her lover Aksel felt a sudden constriction in his throat. All the members of the cast were skilled actors, but Mina Hart, who played Juliet, was outstanding. Her vivid and emotive portrayal of a young woman falling in love was electrifying.
Aksel’s decision to visit Shakespeare’s Globe three nights ago had been at the end of another frustrating day of discussions between the governing council of Storvhal and British government ministers. Storvhal was a principality stretching above Norway and Russia in the Arctic Circle. The country had been governed by the Thoresen royal dynasty for eight hundred years, and Aksel, as monarch and head of state, had supreme authority over his elected council of government. It was a position of great privilege and responsibility that he had shouldered since the death of his father, Prince Geir. He had never admitted to anyone that sometimes the role that had been his destiny from birth felt like a burden.
His visit to London had been to discuss proposals for a new trade agreement between Britain and Storvhal, but negotiations had been hampered by endless red tape. A trip to the theatre had seemed a good way to unwind, away from the rounds of diplomatic talks. He had certainly not expected that he would develop a fascination with the play’s leading actress.
The play ended, and as the actors walked onto the stage and bowed to the audience Aksel could not tear his eyes from Mina. This was the last evening that the play would be performed at the Globe. It was also his last night in London. Having finally secured a trade agreement with the UK, tomorrow he was returning to Storvhal and his royal duties, which, as his grandmother constantly reminded him, meant that he must choose a suitable bride to be his princess and produce an heir.
‘It is your duty to ensure the continuation of the Thoresen royal dynasty,’ Princess Eldrun had insisted in a surprisingly fierce voice for a woman of ninety who had recently been seriously ill with pneumonia. ‘It is my greatest wish to see you married before I die.’
Emotional blackmail from anyone else would have left Aksel unmoved. From childhood it had been impressed on him that duty and responsibility took precedence over his personal feelings. Only once had he allowed his heart to rule his head. He had been in his twenties when he had fallen in love with a beautiful Russian model, but the discovery that Karena had betrayed him was only one of the reasons why he had built an impenetrable wall around his emotions.
His grandmother was the single chink in his armour. Princess Eldrun had helped her husband, Prince Fredrik, to rule Storvhal for fifty years and Aksel had immense respect for her. When she had fallen ill and the doctors had warned him to prepare for the worst he had realised just how much he valued her wise counsel. But even for his grandmother’s sake Aksel was not going to rush into marriage. He would choose a bride when he was ready, but it would not be a love match. Being Prince of Storvhal allowed Aksel many privileges but falling in love was not one of them, just as it had not been for his Viking ancestors.
Perhaps it was the knowledge that his grandmother’s health was failing that had caused his uncharacteristic emotional response to the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet, he brooded. Today was the twelfth anniversary of when his father had been killed in a helicopter crash in Monaco—the playground of the rich and famous where Prince Geir had spent most of his time—to the dismay of the Storvhalian people. In contrast to his father Aksel had devoted himself to affairs of state and slowly won back support for the monarchy, but his popularity came with a price.
In Storvhal he could rarely escape the limelight. The media watched him closely, determined to report any sign of him becoming a party-loving playboy as his father had been. There would be no opportunities for him to go out alone as he had been able to do in London. If he went to the theatre he would have to sit in the royal box, in full view of everyone in the auditorium. He would not be able to stand unrecognised in a crowd and be moved almost to tears by the greatest love story ever told.
He stared at Mina Hart. The cast wore Renaissance costumes and she was dressed in a simple white gown made of gauzy material that skimmed her slender figure. Her long auburn hair framed her heart-shaped face and she looked innocent yet sensual. Aksel felt his body tauten with desire. For a moment he allowed himself to imagine what might happen if he were free to pursue her. But the inescapable truth was that his life was bound by duty. For the past three evenings he had escaped to a fantasy world, but now he must step back to reality.
This was the last time he would see Mina. He studied her face as if he could imprint her features on his memory, and felt a curious ache in his chest as he murmured beneath his breath, ‘Goodbye, sweet Juliet.’
* * *
‘Are you coming for a drink?’ Kat Nichols asked as she followed Mina out of the theatre. ‘Everyone’s meeting up at the Riverside Arms to celebrate the play’s successful run.’