Anne Barbour (25 page)

Shaking herself, she glanced about her as she and Gerard reached the stage area. Most of the players were already in costume, others milled about, chatting nervously. Jane watched Charles, who displayed a suppressed excitement that seemed excessive even for normal opening-night jitters. He was fairly twitching as he thrust his ass’s head over his ears, pulling it off again immediately, and repeating the same procedure again. When Winifred appeared, wearing the simple gown of rose pink in which she would appear as Hermia, Charles hastened to her side, speaking insistently in her ear as she passed among her cast. Where she had been almost wild with growing anticipation over the last week, Winifred now displayed a calm self-possession that surprised Jane. She patted Charles on his ass’s head as she would a high-strung spaniel, and moved among the members of her cast, dispensing encouragement and assistance where needed.

Diana and Jared, in costume, stood to one side conversing with Aunt Amabelle, who had come armed with needle and thread, in case she should be required for any last-minute repairs. Diana’s glance strayed frequently to Charles, and she frowned slightly at the earl’s growing agitation.

Sir James, at Winifred’s direction, and with Gerard and Harry in tow, checked the position of the candles in their tin holders, arranged in a semicircle at the front of the stage. From there, he moved to the prop table, inspecting the fairy wands, the flowers that supposedly held Puck’s magic juices, and all the other items to be handled by the cast during the course of the play. He paused to reprimand several of the village children who, in their fairy costumes darted about, getting in the way and making mischief, just like the sprites they represented. Sir James, thought Jane, accomplished his tasks with quiet efficiency, looking surprisingly at home in surroundings that must be quite alien to him.

Marcus and Lissa stood near each other. Jane’s lips tightened. The two were feigning indifference, each obviously very aware of the other’s presence. At one point Marcus started forward as though he would speak to her, but Lissa, apparently engrossed in adjusting her costume, did not see, and turned away before he could complete his intention. Lissa did notice, however, when Winifred approached to consult with Marcus on a minor point of the performance, running her fingers over a muscled shoulder bared by his Grecian tunic. Lissa started forward, but immediately withdrew, turning a rigid shoulder to the scene.

Jane shook her head in exasperation. How could Lissa behave so stupidly? Was she simply going to let the man she loved walk out of her life without protest? If she would only talk to Marcus ... Suddenly, Jane stood stock-still, the buzz of excitement fading around her. Good Lord, wasn’t that what she herself was doing? She loved Simon Talent and she was allowing him to sign his life over to Winifred without a peep from herself.

Her brain churned furiously. There was probably nothing she could do about Simon’s damned sense of honor, but there must be something she could do about Winifred. She had always been able to talk sense into the girl—well, usually, at any rate. No announcement had been made. Jane repeated the phrase like a prayer. Simon must not have proposed to Winifred yet. Perhaps he was waiting until the last minute—after the play. She must intercept Winifred before Simon said something they’d all be sorry for.

Setting off to find her cousin, Jane paused to peer through the crack in the curtain that had been constructed in a frame and placed between the audience and the stage. Some two hundred chairs had been set up, and to her surprise, the original group of guests had been swelled by villagers and servants from neighboring houses until it had become necessary to bring out additional benches for the overflow.

Glancing about the backstage area, Jane saw Winifred standing in the midst of a questioning group of footmen who had been pressed into service as curtain pullers, candle lighters, and general factotums. Jane moved forward, only to be intercepted by Charles, who importuned her for assistance with his newly crafted ass’s head.

At last, she was able to reach her quarry. “Winifred,” she said urgently, “I must speak to you.”

Winifred bent a gaze of dazzling radiance on her.

“Oh, Jane, I am so excited!”

“Yes, I’m sure you are, but I must—”

“Later, Jane. We are all ready to begin. I want to speak to you, too, for I have wonderful news!” She glanced around and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I am not supposed to speak yet, but I cannot keep silent anymore, especially with you, oh, favorite of my cousins. After the play, I shall have the most interesting announcement! Lord Simon has made me an astonishing offer! It was truly all I needed to complete my happiness! But, I cannot say more now.” She hugged Jane briefly, and with a wink, hurried off to speak with Sir James, who had just beckoned to her.

Jane stood rooted to the makeshift floor. He had done it. He had actually proposed to Winifred, and she had accepted. Somehow, without realizing it, she had been hoping against hope that he would balk at the last minute. That he would be unable to enter into a loveless marriage. That he would realize that his true love waited right within his reach.

So great was her despair that she thought she would be sick right there in front of everyone. She shivered, and forced herself to breathe deeply. How could she have been so foolish as to think he might have come to cherish her unbiddable self above his duty?

Slowly, she moved offstage. At least, she thought wearily, she did not make her entrance until the beginning of Act Two, leaving her a little time to recover her equilibrium. Through a blur of tears she watched Simon take his place with Marcus and Lissa—and Winifred. At Winifred’s signal, the curtain was drawn back, and the hired piper began his limpid prelude. In another few moments, Jared and Diana, looking truly regal in their tiaras and sceptered dignity, moved onstage.

“Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour

Draws on apace.”

The play had begun!

Some two hours later, Jane’s clear laughter floated over the footlights.

“So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends,

And Robin shall restore amends.”

Thus the play ended to a standing ovation from the audience. The players exchanged smiles of exhilarated gratification as they were called back for round after round of curtain calls. We did it! the smiles said, and indeed they had performed beyond their own wildest expectations. Oberon and Titania had been beauty and sorcery personified. The young lovers were all bewitched bewilderment. Bottom had coaxed guffaws from the audience with his antics, as had the rest of the clowns, and the Duke of Athens and his chosen bride, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons had captivated the audience as well as their subjects. The players, grinning through their greasepaint, reveled in the applause, and Winifred, quite stupifyingly beautiful in Titania’s magic glitter, accepted the shouted accolades with blushing pride.

“She’s really good, isn’t she?” murmured Lissa colorlessly to Simon, who, with the other players stood in a line to accept yet another curtain call.

“Yes, she is,” replied Simon wonderingly. “She’s proved herself an excellent director as well. I would not have thought that a group like ours—with no experience, and not much talent—could have been brought together with such results.” He bowed once more and beamed a smile across the footlights.

Lissa smiled frigidly. “I can certainly see the attraction she holds for Marcus.”

The applause drew to a close, and the actors began to descend from the stage to mingle with the admiring throng.

“Look here, Lissa.” Simon reached up to assist her to the ground. “Winifred may have been flirting with Marc—as she seems to do with everything in breeches—but have you seen him respond?”

“Well...” said Lissa, her eyes glittering with tears.

“No, you haven’t, and that being the case, I don’t see why you don’t make it up with him.”

“Oh, Simon, I want to so badly, but—well, you’ve seen how cold he is to me, all because I asked—”

“You didn’t ask, you demanded, and you were pretty unreasonable, don’t you think? In Marc’s view, you tried to spoil his fun for no good reason.”

“Yes,” replied Lissa slowly, “I suppose I did. Marc’s love of playacting is no worse than the way most men love hunting—or gambling, I suppose. Oh, Simon, I do love him so.”

“I don’t think Marcus has been any happier than you have these past weeks, Lissa. I think if you were to tell him what you just told me—”

Lissa lifted her eyes. “Oh, Simon, do you think so?” She smiled radiantly. “I’ll do it! I’ll go and find him right now, and if I’m successful, you’ll be the first to wish us happy—again.”

“Good,” said Simon. “And,” he added with a broad grin, “I may have some interesting news along that line myself very soon.”

He ignored her excited questions, and blowing a kiss, looked for Jane. He spotted her almost immediately. She was still onstage, accepting extravagant compliments from a modish buck whose family’s estate, recalled Simon, marched with Selworth.

With studied aplomb, he dispatched the young man, and took Jane’s hand in his. He was a little startled when she withdrew it abruptly, but pressed on, undeterred.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you all evening,’ he said significantly.

“Have you, indeed?” she responded frostily. “I have been right here.”

“I meant alone,” said Simon, his puzzlement and unease growing. He attempted to draw her back into the area offstage which led to the dark invitation of the shrubbery beyond, but she refused to be budged.

“I do not think it would be proper for us to be alone, under the circumstances,” she sniffed.

“What circumstances?” asked Simon blankly.

She made no reply, but twitched herself away from his grasp. “If you will excuse me,” she said stiffly, “I must see to refreshments for the guests.”

The next moment she was gone, melting into the crowd, leaving Simon staring after her in angry bafflement.

Lissa, having watched with a smile as her brother hastened toward Jane, glanced around for Marc. Wondering that he was nowhere to be seen, she moved among the crowd that was beginning to drift toward the house. Some of the other cast members had disappeared as well, she observed, notably Winifred. Charles, too, was nowhere to be seen.

There! Wasn’t that Marc, some yards up ahead? Catching only a glimpse of his fair hair glinting in the moonlight, and the dark green cloak he had worn as Demetrius, she hurried after him. She soon lost sight of him in the press of people, and was obliged to stop several times to accept the laughing congratulations of family and friends on her performance.

Still, in her haste, she reached the front door ahead of all but a few of the guests. Searching, she moved through the near-empty hall and then into the saloons which bordered its perimeter. Feeling oddly disturbed, she stood irresolute for a moment before proceeding toward the back of the hall and the little courtyard that lay beyond. She stepped quietly into the courtyard, and immediately a flash of something caught her eye. Turning, her hand flew to her throat and a small moan escaped her.

There, on the far side of the courtyard, silhouetted against the candlelight from within stood Winifred, her fairy crown tumbled to the grass. She was enveloped in the passionate embrace of a man. Lissa’s first thought was that she had interrupted an assignation between Winifred and Charles but, though very tall, the man who was fairly raining kisses on Winifred’s upturned face was not nearly as tall as Charles. His size as he bent over the beauty, was difficult to determine, hidden as he was under the folds of a voluminous cloak which was all too familiar.

“Marcus!” gasped Lissa in a broken whisper.

‘‘Why, then you left me (Oh, the gods forbid!)”
—A Midsummer Night’s Dream,
III, ii.

For a long moment, Lissa simply stood transfixed, watching her world shatter. Then, with a sob, she turned and fled back into the house. She stumbled toward the staircase and took refuge in a small cupboard built in beneath it and remained there, shuddering and fighting back the waves of despair and nausea which threatened to engulf her. Never in Lissa’s short and pampered life had she been hurt by anyone close to her. She, who was open and giving herself, had only to put out a hand to find herself cherished in return. Marcus Crowne was her first and only true love—and now he had betrayed her!

For almost an hour, Lissa stood in the shelter of the little cupboard, sunk in despairing reflection. At last, her eyes dry and her back straight, she emerged to seek out her aunt, whom she discovered in the Crimson Saloon. Drawing her away from the well-upholstered matron with whom she was conversing, she said in a voice that trembled only slightly, “Aunt, I want to go home!”

Lady Teague observed her niece in some surprise. “But you are home. Oh—you mean Stonefield? Now? My dear, whatever is the matter?” she asked, peering into the girl’s face. “Oh dear, is it Marcus?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it, please. Could we just go home?” Despite her best efforts, the tremor in her voice increased alarmingly.

“But, we cannot, Lissa.” Lady Teague, in honor of the occasion had placed several more pins, pendants, necklaces, and bracelets on her plump person than usual, with the result that she sounded a little like an orchestra tuning up. “We cannot just leave. Why do you not go up to your room, dear, and I shall come when I can.”

“I do not,” said Lissa, her body rigid, “wish to go to my room. I want—to—go—-home.”

She knew she was acting with the blind panic of a child, but she simply could not look at Marcus again, and she was sure that if she did not leave this room and Selworth within a very few minutes, she would fly apart in all directions at once.

The loquacious matron with whom Lady Teague had been speaking, grasped her arm and restarted the conversation that Lissa had interrupted.

“I cannot talk now, Lissa. Why—why don’t you find Jared? Perhaps you can work something out with him.”

But Jared, when she ran him to earth on the front steps of the house, proved no more amenable to granting Lissa her most pressing wish.