Putting on Airs (8 page)

     
"Actually, I believe it was you who stated that discussion was necessary.  What was it you wanted to discuss?"

     
"The terms of the breach of betrothal."

     
"I want only my freedom."

     
"You are entitled to some money."

     
"I do not want any money, I do not want anything from you."

     
He took a deep breath, preventing himself from getting angered.  "Then are you going to return the things I gave you?"

     
"What things?"

     
"The day of our betrothal, I have you a locket.  When you became twelve, I gave you that signet ring you are wearing."

     
Imogene looked down at her signet ring.  Until then, she had completely forgotten that he had given it to her.  As for the locket, she had no recollection of it all and expected it was buried in her jewelry box.  "You are right; you shall have them back."  She took off the signet ring, but hesitated, thinking of how it was the only thing she had to seal her letters with.  Nonetheless stubborn, she handed it over to him.  "I will return shortly with the locket." 

     
Retreating to her room upstairs, she sifted through her jewelry box and found the locket at the very bottom.  It was a golden chain with an ivory white cameo on a black setting.  Inside the locket was inscribed the day their betrothal was set.  Anxious to remove the abhorred symbol from her room, she immediately returned downstairs to Mr. Campbell and handed it over. He glanced over it briefly before pocketing it with the signet ring.

     
"I apologize for having so troubled you, Ms. Cartwright."

     
"Let us simply go back to being only cousins, sir.  It is better that way for the both of us."

     
"The breach of betrothal will be finalized on Wednesday, madam.  I will write you as soon as it is settled."

     
"Thank you, sir."  With that, he went to speak with her father, and she remained in her chair, watching her sister dance with her new husband.

     
"It was your doing, was it not, Imogene?"

     
"It was a mutual scheme, mother; it would not be legal otherwise."

     
"But you drove him to accept the idea!"

     
"I drove him? 
I
drove
him
?"  Imogene could not speak further, for she knew all in the room would regret it if she did.

     
"And I suppose after such humiliation as you have created upon yourself, there is no hope of him returning to the idea.  I shall have to find someone else.  It is embarrassing enough that Emmeline has married before her elder sister; someone new must be found soon before rumors begin.  Both Mr. Coles are bachelors, are they not?  And reasonably well-off..."

     
"Mother!" Not that Imogene was entirely opposed to thinking of Mr. Phillip as a prospective husband, but she would be cruelly humiliated if her mother went to him to suggest a betrothal.

     
"Mr. Cartwright, write to Mr. Cole in the country and invite him to supper as soon as ever he may come."

     
At the mention of the elder Mr. Cole, Imogene flashed her father a look, pleading desperately for help.  He immediately obliged his daughter, "You cannot mean Mr. Henry Cole, my dear.  You mean Mr. Phillip Cole who lives in town, of course."

     
"No indeed.  The elder Mr. Cole has the greater division of the property and finances.  Though now I think of it, never mind writing him.  He has already been invited to attend the assembly at the end of the week."

     
Imogene bowed her head into her hands.  Her mother would be dropping hints to Mr. Cole about betrothal all night long, and in the company of dozens of other people—including Mr. Phillip.  But after a deep breath, she began to relax.  After all, Mr. Cole would not possibly want to accept such a scheme.

     
The exposition of the assembly already brought her into better spirits, especially when she allowed it.  Her friends all talked in anticipation of their performance, and even some who were not a part of it had caught word of it and voiced their interest, or at least their curiosity.  Finally, the time came.  Chairs were provided for all to sit and watch. Those involved were seated facing the spectators with their books open.  Imogene raised her violin and bow to play a prologue melody as the first scene opened.  As the play progressed, Imogene could not help smiling at her scheme as her friends read the roles of sonnet-spouting Athenians.  Then came time for her reading as Puck.  At first, her voice was hollow and wavering.  With all eyes on her, she was afraid of being thought ridiculous.

     
She had an opportunity—while Nell was reading the famed "Over hill, over dale..." speech—to glance out at the audience.  All seemed to be enjoying the performance; only a few faces showed little or no interest.  But there were two faces she was very surprised to see—those of Mr. Archer and Clarice.  Clarice was sitting in the back of the room, glowing with delight, and Mr. Archer stood directly behind her.  She was almost struck dumb, but her ears caught the silence after Nell's speech, and she took up her cue.  It did not take long for Puck's words to become her own, and she soon forgot herself and all observing.  Her voice cackled with mischievous glee through the still room as her spritely alter-ego declaimed the history of Oberon and Titiana's quarrels.  Near the scene's end, she thought she could hear laughter.  Stealing another glance out, the audience appeared lit up, and even Mr. Archer was displaying a flicker of a grin, and his eyes betrayed that he had laughed.

     
As Imogene provided the music for another scene, she felt a little dizzy and shaky.  Though now it was not because she was nervous, but enthralled.  She never felt such excitement as reading a role before an audience and hearing how they enjoyed it.

     
At the play's end, all applauded, then came forth to congratulate them all on their performance.  Many remarked to Imogene how they enjoyed her rendition of Puck.  She noticed a few people standing aside whose side-glances displayed disapproval—her mother's among them—but she did not give any of it a second thought.  Instead, she turned her attention to Mr. Phillip and made her way to him.  Before she could reach him, however, she was prevented by Clarice and Mr. Archer, whom she had nearly forgotten about.

     
"That was wonderful!" Clarice exclaimed.

     
"I am sorry you were not in it," Imogene attempted to apologize.  "If I had known you were going to be here, I would have given you a role."

     
"We did not know ourselves that we would be here, but the Cole family invited us to attend with their party."

     
"I am glad they did."  And though she truly was glad of it, she also felt very awkward since her parents had not invited the Archers and was worried how it made the two think of her.  She thought of making up an excuse, such as a fault with the mail delivery, but decided it would only increase the awkwardness.

     
"You did very well," Mr. Archer spoke up.

     
"Thank you, sir," Imogene smiled.

     
"I particularly enjoyed the line ‘Lord, what fools these mortals be'."

     
"That is a favorite of mine, too.  I am glad you enjoyed it."

     
Imogene then heard her name being called.  Turning around, there stood Mr. Phillip, beaming.  He took her hand, and she tried not to blush.

     
"That was fantastic!" he said.  "I cannot remember a time I have more enjoyed.  We must do it again sometime."

     
"Then, sir, I challenge you to choose the next play and cast."

     
"An intriguing proposition; I shall take it up."  He then noticed the Archers standing with them.  "And you both must be cast in it."

     
"I think I would be too afraid, Mr. Cole," Clarice said, feeling nervous by just thinking about getting up in front of all those people.

     
"We will think about it," Mr. Archer answered.

     
"I would also desire to get my brother in the cast," Mr. Phillip thought aloud, "but I daresay I shall need some help in persuading him.  Come assist me in the task, Imogene."

     
Trying to avoid facing Mr. Cole, she said, "If he will not be persuaded by his brother, I fail to see how he may be persuaded by me."

     
"You underestimate your own charms, Ms. Cartwright.  If a professional actress and accomplished musician such as yourself tells him to be in a play, he must not refuse."

     
Caught up in his playfulness, she relented; "Such flattery is unnecessary, sir (though not unwelcome).  To send you to your brother alone with such a quest would be ungenerous."

     
"Excuse me while I borrow Ms. Cartwright from you," Mr. Phillip told the Archers as he led Imogene across the room to where his elder brother sat.  He was staring into space, his dark eyes very severe.

     
"Henry," Mr. Phillip began, "Ms. Cartwright and I have the idea of putting on another play, and we insist you join in the cast this time."  Mr. Cole only looked up at them, silent.  "It is your turn, Ms. Cartwright."

     
Imogene was hesitant to begin.  Mr. Cole seemed to genuinely be paying attention, which she did not expect, and it made her nervous.  "Your brother has told me," she began, "that you are an excellent reader, sir.  We would all greatly benefit from your talent, I am sure."

     
He remained silent, and his eyes suddenly flit to the front door.  An older gentleman had just entered, one Imogene had never seen before.  Mr. Cole rose immediately, dismissively told Imogene that he would consider the idea, then quickly made his way out the back door.

     
Mr. Phillip seemed amused by his brother's abrupt departure.  "I did not expect we would frighten him away with our scheme.  Excuse me while I retrieve him before he leaves altogether."

     
"Perhaps you should," Imogene bid, more alarmed than her good-humored friend.

     
Mr. Phillip went off to find his brother, and Imogene's eyes remained on the gentleman who had just entered.  He had a wolfish appearance with short silver hair.  His expression would almost snarl, yet when he smiled, he was nearly the most handsome man in the room, then only to darken again in an eye's blink.  He was scanning the room, but halted when he caught Imogene staring at him.  She immediately turned away to find her friend Jane who had been helping herself to some punch.

     
"By the door," Imogene whispered without ado, "that gentleman who just entered: Do you know who he is?"

     
Looking over, Jane nodded.  "That is Mr. Ashcroft."

     
"And how do you know him?"

     
"My father and he were very good friends; they grew up in the same neighborhood together."

     
"He does not seem to be a...well-tempered sort of gentleman."

     
"I should think not.  In recent years—I forget how long ago exactly—he and father had a falling out.  I cannot remember the particulars, but it had something to do with father choosing to move into the country.  I believe Mr. Ashcroft thought it beneath him to associate with country society."