‘But that’s your role, Miss Granville,’ she argued.

‘You are Isabella today,’ said Hannah, ‘and I’m sure you’ll do justice to the part. Who knows? One day you may well play it yourself.’

‘That would truly be a miracle.’

‘They do occur sometimes.’

‘Orsino was my miracle. I’ll never meet anyone like him.’

‘Let’s forget him for a moment and concentrate on Shakespeare.’

Seated beside each other, they had the play spread out before them. Hannah had turned the pages to the second scene between Isabella and Angelo, a man with absolute power during the absence of the Duke of Vienna. Isabella had come to him to plead for her brother’s release from the death sentence imposed by Angelo on him for sleeping with his betrothed before they were married.

‘Angelo is a puritan,’ said Hannah, ‘but he is strangely attracted to Isabella. As the scene develops, he has feelings for her that he is unable to control. As you know, he offers her a corrupt bargain. To save her brother’s life, she must sacrifice her virginity.’

‘It’s a terrible position to put her in.’

‘I agree, Dorothea, but it’s a wonderful role for any actress, full of emotion and soaring verse. Are you ready to tackle it?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Then let’s begin …’

Hannah deepened her voice and sharpened its edge so that she could sound like the peremptory Angelo. It took Dorothea a little longer to settle into the role. Nervous at first, she grew in confidence and improved steadily, handling the verse with great dexterity. In less than a minute, she was so committed to the play that she forgot all about her troubles. Hannah, however, was aware of the faint connection between Isabella’s plight and that of the young actress. If, as she believed, Orsino Price had been deceiving Dorothea, then the latter’s virginity, as in the case of Shakespeare’s heroine, was at the mercy of a lecherous man. There was a secondary parallel. Isabella was threatened by someone acting as a deputy to the absent Duke. Hannah was forced to remember that she, too, was being menaced by a man who’d assumed power in the absence of a ruler. No loss of virtue was involved in her case but that didn’t detract from Hannah’s discomfort when she recalled that she was, in effect, now playing the role of the Prince Regent.

For Dorothea, however, it was a totally different experience. The longer the scene went on, the more she grew into the part, and when she was confronted with the cruel ultimatum, she delivered her closing soliloquy with mingled pathos and passion. Hannah was so impressed that she clapped her hands in appreciation.

‘That was brilliant, Dorothea!’

‘Do you really think so?’ asked the other, touched by the compliment.

‘I could not have delivered that speech better myself.’

‘There’s no higher praise than that.’