Missus Mason bemoaned the loss of her youth, drowning sorrows in the sweet liquor that burned her parched throat. Her eyes itched, for her tear wells were empty, but the gin and wine loosened her predatory tongue. Cracked beauty and shrewish coquetry mattered little as she laid upon the sofa, preoccupied with thoughts of her monetary debts. She lamented that she had married beneath herself, but that was her misfortune to have chosen the apprentice shipwright with granite eyes upon his marble brow. If she had not became pregnant, she would be the great dame that young ladies sought to mirror, though they would murmur harsh words about her conquests.

The bottle of gin was raised to her lips, assisting her efforts to drown her sorrows. That was difficult to do, especially with the incessant chatter of Maria and Irene droning in her head like the rain that pattered against the windows. The thunder continued outside, as did squeals or joy as the young women discussed their experiences with romance. Missus Mason frowned at their light-hearted approach to love, having spent years educating them otherwise.

She was proud that Maria was educated, having gone into debt to pay for tutors to give her daughter knowledge that would help her obtain enterprising businessmen as suitors. Although she had no displeasure in Maria reading the Classics or attending Drury Lane, as money permitted, it irked her that Maria read romances by that Anonymous Lady from Middlesex. Not only did she read such fantasies, she listened idly as Irene described her escapades in disreputable alleys with the blacksmith apprentice who courted her. She did not need to waste seven shillings per week on this slothfulness, so she better find more duties for both Maria and Irene.

Missus Mason grumbled as there was pounding on the front entrance, no doubt one of the gentleman lodgers with his arms full of flesh. She tolerated such behavior to extort more rent money from them, but she also must consider she had to maintain the appearance or the most respectable lodging in the neighborhood. She arose with hesitance, mumbling as she shuffled to the door with great enthusiasm. If it was Mister Quisling, she would be able to threaten to inform his heiress fianc�e.

She opened the door, not expecting the cloaked visage who visited her in the rain. Although the grey sky did not permit much light, she could discern that smirk even in pitch black. That sweet face framed in damp curls did not arouse her sentiments to invite the lady instead, even as thunder rumbled in the distance. She mused that perhaps this was the Angel of Death, who would cast her into Hell for her inhospitality; but that was another stage production in another lifetime, so what did Miss Cobham act the part of the weak maiden when she had few scruples?

Miss Cobham spoke, without using one of her many voice disguises, �Why, Helen, can't I visit an old friend?"

Missus Mason snorted as Miss Cobham behaved like some wilted flower, �Don't start insulting my age with your stage wit.�

�I would never dream of doing so!" replied the Actress, raising her chin in defiance. �Why I would never insult-�

"Then don't call me an old friend!" Missus Mason grumbled as she stumbled backwards from the door so that the Actress could enter. �Well?�

Miss Cobham entered, moving with the innate grace that had charmed men and women both on and off stage. Missus Mason repressed her jealousy, knowing that she once had been considered to be beautiful, graceful, and desirable. Now her appearance conveyed none of these accomplishments since she had not married to become the fragile decoration in the parlor. Miss Cobham had not succumbed this pathetic fate either, though she acted the part of the coquettish, though innocent, spinster to protect her reputation from certain libeling theater patrons who enjoyed destroying careers after sleeping with the ladies of the stage.

Miss Cobham shook her head as she removed her cloak, "Helen, I did not come to bicker like sisters-"

"Then what do you want?� Missus Mason frowned, her arms crossed. �You know I hate pleasantries."

Miss Cobham straightened her posture, "I have come on behalf of a dear friend."

Missus Mason cackled, "Which kind?"

"Surely, I would not acquaint you with anything dishonorable," the Actress replied, her eyes pleading as she treaded behind her hostess to the shadowy parlor. �I only have your interest in mind.�

Missus Mason halted, scowling over her shoulder, "You introduced me to him."

"Well, I did not entice you to lay with him,� the Actress snorted as she glanced at the empty bottles of gin. �You were the one with drunken passions.�

"Lay with him?" Missus Mason growled as she crouched upon the sofa. �Lay with him!�

The Actress cleared her throat as she sat across from the fumigating Hostess, "It's better not to discuss such things, I suppose.."

"Well, you'll hear me through or I'll throw you out!" Missus Mason threatened, baring her blackened teeth.

Miss Cobham smoothed her skirts before speaking, "Do that and you'll not have another means of making money."

"What is it this time?� Missus Mason snorted, though she leaned forward intent. �More gentlemen friends needing private lodgings?"

The Actress smiled, "No, it's not at all like that."

"Or perhaps you've lost the patronage of certain gentlemen, eh?� Missus Mason cackled. �Reduced to begging favors of me?"

"You truly do act the part of Mother Goose,� the Actress laughed. �Pity it's not in production anymore."

"As if you could play Anne Trulove anymore, not with all that powder on your face."

"Though it is a pity. We were perfect for our roles."

Missus Mason snarled, "No, I was perfect for your role, but Mister Tidwell preferred to bed you."

"Well, you never offered him your talents," Miss Cobham smirked. �You haven�t forgotten the ways of Drury Lane, I hope.�

�No,� Missus Mason murmured. �I was too stupid, too in love with that bastard Mason."

The Actress leaned forward to lay her hand atop that of the Hostess, "At least he had the courtesy to wed you when you got pregnant."

Missus Mason seized herself from the affectionate grasp, "I didn't get pregnant, he made me pregnant!"

"Come now, Helen,� Miss Cobham reasoned, staring at the aged finery on the mantle. �We've all suffered misfortune."

"Not you, traveling around Europe like some Duchess," replied Missus Mason, tempted to drown her miseries once more. �Having adventures like some of the characters in your most recent role.�

"What irony you suppose, but I was in Spanish and French custody for months!" the Actress protested, color rising to her cheeks. �I have never suffered such indignities in my life than at the hands of the enemy!�

"Old and dry aristocrats, I'll wager,� Missus Mason snickered before resuming the most ladylike posture she could endure. �But what's your proposition Miss Cobham?"

Miss Cobham smiled as the Hostess became more amicable, "Well, you've never lost your head for business."

"Marry a sailor and you'll be able to get pounds out of shillings."/p>

"Will you be able to accept another lodger?"

"Perhaps."

"If you do, I will pay for the majority of his rent."

Missus Mason raised her brows, "Is he that destitute?"

"He's on half pay, or so my dear friend has told me."

"Half pay?� Missus Mason growled, memories of life and death struggles coming to her mind. �I'll not have sailors in my house!"

Miss Cobham protested, "He's an officer, and a gentleman."

"I don't care if he's Nelson himself,� the reddened Hostess yelled. �I'll not board such heathens in my house!"

"He's an honorable gentleman!"

"I don't care,� Missus Mason snarled, though her voice was lower as to not attract the attentions of Maria and Irene. �I'll not have some pox-ridden scum charming my Maria with his worldly ways."

The Actress put her hands upon her breast, speaking in the utmost sincerity, "He's but a babe in matters of the heart."

Missus Mason scowled, "I suppose you've favored him, Miss Kitty."

"Why, I'm old enough to be his mother!" the Actress laughed through her blushing. �I would never do something so-�

"It never stopped you before,� Missus Mason grumbled as she slouched. �Think of Mister Barnaby.�

The Actress was calculating, "Helen, I will pay you double the rent."

"Oh, are you warning me about the companions he keeps?" Missus Mason smirked. �The type that may get him hanged?�

"Why, he would never do such under your roof!" Miss Cobham giggled. �He would never burden anyone with shame!�

"So he is one of those?" Missus Mason grinned, anticipating means of extorting money.

Miss Cobham became hestitant as she paused, "I cannot say, but-"

"And he's the lover of your dear friend,� Missus Mason smiled in amusement. �Hmm, a sailor and an actor? How interesting."

"Yes, Helen," the Actress relented. �Why I-�

"You could've told me right away," Missus Mason interrupted, rubbing her ruddy paws together. "Now, I'll charge him very little, less than my other lodgers for my courtesies. But what type of man is he, besides Grecian?"

"He's a loner, a thinker. And very proud and melancholy."

"And what about his lover?"

"He's like a cherub."

The Hostess smiled as she noted the maternal flush upon Miss Cobham, "He's probably the devil himself. Now, does this potential lodger drink?"

"Very little."

"Good,� the Hostess smiled as she put gin to her lips, noting how the Actress scowled at this vice. �There's nothing I hate worse than drink."

"Do we have an agreement?" Miss Cobham asked while the Hostess indulged her appetites. �It is necessary that I know as soon as possible.�

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps? Then what else must you know?"

"Is he handsome?"

Miss Cobham hesitated, "Not in the Classical way."

"Stop evading the question!"

"Your daughter will probably think so."

"Hmm, I can take care of her,� Missus Mason replied. �But I need to be paid in advance."

Miss Cobham shook her head, "He has not sought lodgings here yet. His friend needs to direct him to some agreeable arrangements."

"Well, get him started,� Missus Mason scowled at her disagreeable guest. �But I still need two guineas in advance."

Miss Cobham opened her purse, counting out her change slowly, "I suppose it's for your apothecary bill."

"Quite so, Kitty,� Missus Mason swallowed bitterly. �Now, would you like some dinner?"

"No thanks, but I do appreciate the offer-"

"Just say you don't like my Maria's cooking!"

"Your officer lodger probably will."

"Then he has no stomach."

"You'll have to encourage him to eat elsewhere."

"He can take his half-pay to his officer's club,� Missus Mason cackled. �I'll make sure his stay is not too pleasant."

Miss Cobham was dismayed, "Don't walk in on him when he has visitors like you did to Alex and Victor."

"They were making too much noise."

"Hmm, I suppose you were standing outside the door."

"You're ungrateful, you theatre strumpet!" the Hostess growled, raising as if to pounce on her inhospitable guest.

"You've no heart, you money grubbing whore!" the Actress countered with the dramatic gestures of the stage as she arose from her chair, colors painting her skin.

They glanced at one another, animated with the vivacious characters they had portrayed on stage. Though they had not performed together for over twenty-three years, their roles as friends had not been forgotten even as their lives took opposite fortunes. One for celebrity, one for obscurity, bickering not from jealousy but from mutual memories of the cruel rivalries of young actresses that rarely became friends. They resumed the postures of amicable company, nostalgic for days past.

"Well, it's good to know some things have not changed,� Missus Mason sighed. �I may not be called Miss Snodgrass anymore, but Ill always be her.�

Miss Cobham nodded as she listened to the storm howl outdoors, "Indeed, though some recall how Miss Helen Snodgrass was the best Hermia and Mother Goose.�

Missus Mason chuckled, unbelievable of such praise, "Now tell me how everything is for this new production, this Boy Captain. I heard you authored it through that new playwright, that Mister Prather."

The Actress behaved shocked, "Why, I have not the ability to write such witty repose!"

"Well, you've been muse to more than six playwrights I can remember," was the vicious, though playful, reply.

"Still, I do not consider that collaboration."

"No, but you certainly help those young rakes to greatness."