Mrs Bennet and the Body in the Library

By Susannah Donim

Mike, now ‘Michelle’, gives his ‘Mrs Bennet’ at the end of term show.

Chapter Five – Performance on Stage and off

The dress rehearsal went well. Everyone knew their lines by now, and apart from the frenetic little scene with Lydia and Kitty, none of our moves were particularly complicated. I received several compliments for my impersonation of a hysterical middle-aged matron, but I had the impression that every kind remark was paired with a puzzled look. I saw behind their eyes: ‘How could he be as good as that – unless he’s… you know…?’ But maybe I was being paranoid.

Mind you, there are always hangers-on at a dress rehearsal – stage hands, lighting engineers, and so on – and some of the compliments came from people outside our little group who had no idea I was a man underneath it all.

Dr MacNair had mostly left us to our own devices for the last four weeks, but he came to the Green Room half an hour before we were due to begin our last rehearsal to wish us success. When he saw me getting ready to go on, he made no attempt to conceal his delight.

“I told you you’d be great as Mrs Bennet, Mike,” he hooted. I smiled weakly.

MacNair sat in the front row of the stalls throughout. When we finished he summoned our three Directors. They passed his observations on to us in the Theatre bar afterwards over some stiff drinks. I fancied a lager but we had all been told to stay in costume in case further work was required, and I wasn’t sure I could make room for a pint of gassy beer in my corseted tummy. I settled for a Bacardi and coke.

MacNair was pleased with our attempts at Literary Adaptation. He congratulated us on producing coherent scenes which captured the essence of the novel. His notes were mostly about stagecraft and timing. He was happy that everyone knew what to say and do, but we should try to be slicker. We needed to pick up our cues faster and react more to everything that was going on around us – a common failing of amateur thesps.

When he finished we needed to hurry to get changed; Sheila and Esther would be waiting impatiently. As Holly and I made our way down the narrow stairs, she said casually, “My mother and father are coming to the afternoon performance tomorrow.”

Terrific! What on earth would they make of their daughter’s boyfriend dragged up like this? I didn’t want them to think I had chosen to play a female part, and knowing Holly, she would thoroughly enjoy embarrassing me.

“I asked my Mum to bring some of her old clothes – stuff she was planning to throw out,” she went on.

“Why?”

“For you to wear between the shows.”

“No way!”

“Well, I’m not going to sit around in costume from three o’clock, when our piece will be finished, till nine when we go on again, and Esther won’t be available to remove your makeup, will she? So you’ll look like a middle-aged woman whatever you’re wearing. If you change into an old dress of my mother’s, we can go home, can’t we?”

“And do what?”

“Whatever we want. We could…” She trailed off and took tight hold of my arm suggestively.

“You mean you want to… you know what… with me looking like this?”

“Oh yes! I’m really keen to know more about what is under all that stuff. I’ll need reassurance that your vital equipment is still present and correct.”

I hesitated. She seized her chance. “And we could go to dinner afterwards.”

“I can’t go to a restaurant dressed as a woman!”

“I don’t see why not. You’re completely convincing.”

We had reached the Star Dressing Room. She opened the door and pushed me inside.

“We can discuss all this later,” she said. “I’ll wait for you upstairs in the bar.”

She closed the door behind her.

* * *

First Sheila took my shawl, gloves, cap and jewellery. Then she undid my bodice and helped me out of my dress, inspecting everything to make sure I hadn’t got any makeup anywhere.

“Can you take the corset off now?” I begged. “I’m not sure I can stand it much longer.”

Sheila smiled and lifted up my petticoat to remove the corset. Then she sent me over to the hairdressing chair in just my remaining underwear and stockings.

Esther removed my wig first. “We’ll leave the wig cap on for the moment. It will be easier to fix your face without your own hair getting in the way.” She began attacking my makeup with cleanser. “Got to get this lot off first,” she explained, “then the latex.”

When she was satisfied that all the warpaint was gone and all that remained was my own skin and the deposits of latex, she filled a washing-up bowl with ordinary shower gel and warm water. Then she started sponging my face and neck wherever there was latex.

“It’s actually quite easy to get this stuff off,” she explained. “In fact, the longer it’s been on you, the more easily it comes off. Your sweat and your skin's natural oils loosen it. But if you don’t want to wait…”

“I don’t!”

She laughed. “Then warm soapy water is enough.”

After a few minutes sponging, she decided the detergent had loosened the latex enough, and it was time to try to lift it off. She started on the bags under my right eye. She found an edge using her fingernail, and pulled it up gently, pushing down on my skin so that it didn’t come up with the latex and hurt me. The stretchy goo came away quite easily. She used a warm flannel to wipe down the skin underneath.

She repeated the exercise with all the wrinkles round my eyes, cheeks and mouth. She left my double chin till last. She had to saturate it with soapy water and massage it gently but eventually it came away in a big lump.

“This is why I had to give you such a close shave,” she said, soothing my raw skin with her washcloth. “Imagine if lots of little hairs had been stuck in the latex! Pulling out even short stubble would have been painful. I don’t suppose you’ve ever had your legs waxed?”

“Certainly not,” I said with feeling, “and I never will.”

“Never say ‘never’, sweetie,” said Sheila, “especially not if you’re going to make a habit of female impersonation!”

I couldn’t think of a polite response to that, so I said nothing.

Esther removed the wig cap, and then it was back to Sheila to help me out of my petticoat and body shaper. Naked, I rushed to the cupboard to get my own clothes. With Mrs Bennet’s extra poundage removed I couldn’t believe how light I felt.

I thanked the ladies, promised to be punctual tomorrow, and rushed off to the bar to meet Holly. I knew I would have kept her waiting because it took so long to put Mrs Bennet to bed.

I burst into the bar to be greeted by the entire company. Holly led the cries of, “Hi, Michelle!”

At least I could have a pint of lager now.

* * *

Dr MacNair had generously left enough funds for us all to enjoy two free drinks in the theatre bar, and most of us could manage a couple more after that. Holly kept tugging at my sleeve to get me to go, but I insisted we stayed till the bar closed. It was important to me that my friends saw that I was Mike again, raucous and manly and drinking everyone else under the table, and that I had no connection with prim, plump, middle-aged Mrs Bennet. I had put my hysterical alter ego, firmly back in her box. If that entailed keeping my girlfriend waiting through a couple more rounds of drinks, well that’s what we macho types do, right? A man gets thirsty. The little woman has to put up with it.

Holly wasn’t on board with that unfortunately, as she made very clear when we eventually left. It was a bracing midnight walk home and she was fuming silently all the way. The combination had me nearly sobered up by the time we got back to the flat. I suppose I should have been grateful she hadn’t sent me back to my little bedsit in the Hall of Residence.

The silent treatment continued even after we got into bed. I reached for her in the dark but she shrugged off my hand. I sighed.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I know exactly why you’re angry, but I couldn’t help it.”

She snorted – a snort of derision, not a ‘snore’ snort. So she was still awake.

“I… I felt I had something to prove…” I stumbled.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“People have been treating me like… well, like a woman for days…”

“So you thought you needed to drink all night like a boozy neanderthal to prove you were still a man?”

“Well, I couldn’t find any dragons to kill or damsels in distress, so… yeah.”

She sat up and put her bedside light on.

“You’re serious?” she said. I didn’t answer. “You idiot! Nobody thinks less of you for playing a female part in a play. Quite the reverse – everyone is impressed at how good you are.”

“But they’re all thinking, he must really be effeminate to be that good at playing a woman.” She looked sceptical. “In any case, nobody has called me Mike for ages, just ‘Mama’, ‘Mrs Bennet’ and now ‘Michelle’.”

She was incredulous but not unsympathetic. “Oh, go to sleep, Mike.”

She put the light out and turned over. But she didn’t shrug my arm off when I put it around her and cupped her breast (as you do).

* * *

Holly’s parents, Richard and Susan Woodbridge, turned up at the flat at about ten-thirty. It was great to see them. They had always been nice to me, especially after my father died. We’d all had breakfast early so we went for elevenses at one of the town’s many coffee shops.

Holly explained that we would probably have to go straight on to the theatre. On hearing that, Susan took a plaid holdall from the boot of their car as we passed. Holly handed it straight to me to carry for her. I knew what was in it. I couldn’t help noticing that Susan’s figure was pretty much identical to mine as Mrs Bennet.

“You never explained what you needed all that for, dear,” said Susan.

“It will become obvious after the show,” Holly said with a grin and a wink at me. “You can stay for a quick drink afterwards, can’t you?”

I sighed. It didn’t look like there was any way I was going to get out of this. My confessions of the previous night had clearly made little impression on her.

At the coffee house, Richard asked, “Have you guys thought about what you’re doing for the summer yet?”

“We’d like to split the time between work and travel,” Holly said.

“In that order,” I added. “I’ll have to work to be able to afford to travel.”

They nodded sympathetically. “But you do know we’ll sub you if you’re short, don’t you?” said Richard. “This is an important time in your lives. You need to go out and see the world. Plenty of time for work later.”

“That’s very kind,” I said.

But they all knew that I wouldn’t be comfortable taking their money. I would need to find a temporary job for a month or two.

“I’m hoping to find something that will count toward my CV as an actor,” said Holly. “I don’t want to work…” She lowered her voice. “…in a coffee house!”

After a very pleasant hour, we parted – Richard and Susan to the shops; Holly and me to the theatre.

* * *

At one o’clock I was back in the dressing room, ready and willing (just about) to be turned back into Mrs Bennet again. At least I knew what to expect this time, which made the experience a little easier. As I was stripping off, Sheila was preparing my body shaper, while Esther was stropping her razor again, to rid me of the microscopic stubble I had grown in the last twenty-four hours.

Forty minutes later, I was fully dressed and made up, and Esther was putting the finishing touches to my hair. Sheila had noticed the holdall. It had been left open and she was rummaging through it.

“What’s all this then?” she said.

“They’re some old clothes of Holly’s mother’s,” I said. God, this was embarrassing! “Holly thought I might like to wear them between shows, as I can’t go back to being Mike.”

“That was a good idea. I don’t have to be at my next job till three o’clock, so I’m going to watch your group’s show. I’ve just about got time to help you change afterwards, if you like”

“Me too,” said Esther with a smile.

Something else to look forward to. Still, if I had to look like a middle-aged woman outside the theatre this afternoon and evening, at least I would have a professional makeover.

* * *

The curtain rises. Distant piano music can be heard with the occasional mistake. It isn’t loud enough to be distracting or to drown out the dialogue.

I gape at him, before it slowly dawns that he is mocking me. In a huff, I storm out of the double doors, upstage centre, followed by Amy. Jack smiles. Holly and Hilary giggle.

* * *

So that was my first appearance as Mrs Bennet over with until the curtain call, but I would be stuck with her face and hair all day.

I hovered around backstage to see how it was going. I could see the audience through a little slit in a side panel, above the Stage Manager’s desk. It seemed to be packed out, presumably from friends and relatives of the cast. There would be no one from my family there, and all my friends were in the show.

I tried not to get in anyone’s way backstage but as I was still in full Mrs Bennet costume, my lack of manoeuvrability caused problems. Also, my skirts made rustling noises whenever I moved, so I was soon exiled. As in all theatres a loudspeaker system relayed the actors’ voices through to the Green Room, so that everyone always knew where the performance was up to and wouldn’t miss their cues.

The cast were on top form – Holly was especially impressive – and from what I had seen of the audience in the dark, they seemed to be enjoying our efforts.

The next scene was the Netherfield gathering at which Jane and Elizabeth socialise with Bingley and Darcy. This was the responsibility of our second group. Jane and Bingley spend enough time together to fall in love, but then Jane takes to her bed with a heavy cold leaving Lizzy at the mercy of Bingley’s spoilt and snooty sisters. She handles their cattiness brilliantly and it is then that Darcy first begins to realise there is more to her than he had thought.

Our team’s next scene should have been set at a party at the home of Mrs Phillips, Elizabeth’s aunt, but we didn’t have enough actors for a big gathering, so we cut it down to just Elizabeth, Jane, and Lydia playing whist with Mr Wickham. In the book this soon reduces to a dialogue between Lizzy and Wickham in which he seeks to charm her and disparage Darcy.

We open with the four of them finishing a hand of whist. Lydia loses and she throws down her cards in disgust and excuses herself. The others laugh at the fifteen-year-old’s immaturity and put the cards away. As Script Editor I reassigned some of Lizzy’s lines to Jane, to make the scene a little more balanced. (Jack approved although Holly wasn’t too happy about it.)

Our last scene was the well-known one in which Lizzy and Jane talk about marriage. They’re both in favour of marrying for love, but are determined only to fall in love with a rich man. I just hoped Holly didn’t feel like that in real life, though her parents’ wealth would give her a wider choice than that of Elizabeth or Jane.

Darcy’s proposal and Elizabeth’s incredulous refusal came next and Derek and Holly did it very well – so much so that, to everyone’s surprise, there was a spontaneous round of applause from the audience. I wondered whether Richard and Susan might have led it.

In the penultimate scene, Amy swept on imperiously as the ghastly Lady Catherine de Bourgh, followed a little timorously by Holly as Lizzy. It would be very easy to overdo Lady Catherine but Amy pitched it just right. Holly showed Lizzy growing steadily bolder throughout the scene as she was increasingly angered by Lady Catherine’s appalling condescension and bad manners. There was another ripple of applause as both of them stormed off in different directions.

I made my way back to the stage now, as there was only one scene to go: Darcy’s humble renewed proposal, renouncing his pride, and Lizzy’s embarrassed acceptance, overcoming her prejudice. This is one of the most famous scenes in English Literature, and Derek and Holly made a wonderful job of it. As the last words of love are uttered and he takes her hand, the curtain falls.

Healthy applause began immediately; the auditorium lights came up again; and we all trooped on for the curtain call.

Next: Mrs Bennet in 2021