Mr Darcy Requests the Pleasure
Page 27
With that, she left the room. Theodosia sank down into a chair, and gazed out of the window. She couldn’t see much as the view was now obscured by the rain that beat against the panes.
She felt all the reason of Elizabeth’s words and the strength of her argument. Yet her own reasons were good ones, and as to pride, well, she was glad of it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Theodosia steadfastly refused to take a part in the play, even though Olivia urged her to do so. In the end, Miss Turlington, with an air of bestowing a favour, said she would learn her lines, Lady Sarah volunteered to help her do so, and the rehearsals continued. Theodosia kept herself in the background and endeavoured to keep out of Mr Aconbury’s presence. She kept herself busy, helping with costumes and stage properties, coaching several of the cast in their lines, playing the harp for rehearsals, as well as taking care of Letty and Camilla. Lessons were suspended for the days coming up to the performance, at the request of Mrs Darcy, who was pleased to see her daughters happily occupied with the play.
The costumes were made and fitted and pronounced admirable, the various arrangements for the production of the storm, for the suitable apparition of the ghostly wife of the Count and even the howling of the wolves in the distance—once Camilla was persuaded that her pug could not play the part of a wolf—were somehow contrived.
The weather had steadily worsened, and they had all accepted that the performance was likely to be for the entertainment only of those members of the household who were not taking part in the play and the servants, who were eagerly looking forward to such a treat.
Then, almost miraculously, with the approach of the full moon the weather changed.
It was cold, certainly, but without the severe frosts usual in that part of the world, and the weather-wise farmer announced that they might expect to enjoy four or five days of such weather. “Once the full moon is past,” he added with a knowledgeable shake of his head, “the wind will blow from the north-east, bringing snow.”
Invitations were immediately sent out to all the neighbouring families, who were delighted to have any relief from the tedium of February.
It was clear they might expect a good audience, and so, on the eve of the great occasion, Mr Aconbury called for a dress rehearsal. It went suprisingly well and although Miss Turlington’s performance was lacklustre; they were resigned to that, and given the nature of the piece, her declamatory style didn’t detract from the piece as it might have done with a different work.
However, the next morning, on the day of the performance, the blow fell.
The news was brought up to Theodosia by the schoolroom maid: Miss Turlington had lost her voice. She was speechless, her mouth opened and moved and not a sound came out. At first, there was concern as to her being ill, but she assured them, writing on a slate thoughtfully provided by Camilla, that she was in no pain, felt perfectly well—but had completely lost the use of her voice.
Olivia confirmed this; it was not the first time it had happened to Veronica. She nobly refrained from saying that previously this had been caused by her getting into a rage and indulging in fits of shrieks and shouts. In this case, it was simply overuse of her voice while acting that had done the harm.
Who could play the part? There were only two young ladies available: Anne, and Miss Beckford.
The matter was settled in a trice. It was with a sinking heart that Miss Beckford heard Lady Catherine issue her interdict on Anne’s taking on any role. She was delicate, her voice would suffer even more than Miss Turlington’s had done.
Since no one had thought for a moment that Anne would be able to undertake the role, this caused no dismay.
Except to Theodosia. Her fate was pronounced. She knew the lines, had attended the rehearsals, there was no difficulty at all. The music? Her protests were waved aside. Lady Sarah said that although her skill upon the harp was limited, she would do her best upon the pianoforte.
“You have no choice, Miss Beckford,” Mr Aconbury said to her. “You cannot let us down; if you do not agree, we shall have to cancel the play and send out messages to half the county to that effect. And I dare say some of them will already be on their way.”
It was impossible to refuse. It would be more than churlish and so, with a great effort, she smiled and showed willing and was whisked away by Lady Sarah to have her costume adjusted, “For you are a little taller than Miss Turlington, and your figure is slenderer.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
From early afternoon, carriages rattled up to Pemberley to disgorge quite a crowd of persons. Many of them had not seen their neighbours for three weeks or more because of the inclement weather, and so the mood of the gathering was one of merriment and general happiness.
Theodosia was caught up in the lively atmosphere, but she felt far from light-hearted, especially when she saw Miss Turlington exercising her voiceless charms upon an inscrutable Mr Aconbury, or when she herself was criticised and snubbed by Lady Catherine. She longed for the play to be over, so that she could retreat to the sanctuary of the schoolroom and found herself praying one moment that snow might come to keep Mr Aconbury at Pemberley and the next that it would not, so that he would continue on his planned journey to Harrogate.
The play was a great success. There were the inevitable mishaps such as when the footman, deputed to provide the rain for Wulfric’s first entrance by means of a watering-can, tripped over a skull and slopped most of the water over an unfortunate Octavius. The hermit, a double role taken by Mr Giddings, missed an entrance, since Camilla’s pug took exception to his black habit, and when he did make his appearance, it was seen that his costume had a large fragment torn out of it. Pug himself caused a disturbance a little later on, by running on stage to rescue his young mistress as she stood on the battlements, declaiming into the storm.
Lady Catherine kept up a running commentary on the play. She disapproved of the character of the hermit, on the principle that he was most probably a papist. She did not understand why the Count had been estranged from his wife, “Why did she run off into the snow, such behaviour in a married woman must always be most unseemly.” She was unimpressed by Octavius’s enactment of his villain’s role, “I have never approved off actors who storm and rant about the stage.” And as for Wulfric, “That young man should not have come to the castle to woo one young lady and end up with quite another one.”
Despite these various contretemps, which must always attend upon any amateur dramatic performance, the piece was extremely well received. Elizabeth’s performance role as the ghostly wife was considered particularly fine, and there was a general sigh at the end when restored as it were to life and she was reunited with the Count and they drew into their embrace the young woman who was their daughter.
Justin and Octavius staged a fine sword fight for their duel, and Octavius’s death throes as he staggered about the stage were greeted with loud applause, with the rest of the audience paying no heed to Lady Catherine’s expressed opinion that the whole piece was a farrago of nonsense.
During all of this, Theodosia had played her part mechanically, wishing it were all over. She had gone through her scenes earlier, to make sure she knew her lines and exits and entrances, and for that it had been possible simply to murmur the words without feeling or needing to respond to Mr Aconbury.
But for the performance, she must act; she must show all those feelings she pretended she did not have for Mr Aconbury and this gave an intensity to their scenes together that had been altogether lacking when Miss Turlington played the part.
At the climax of the play, when they had rescued Cecilia from the clutches of Wulfric and villain and wicked landlord had met a fitting end, Mr Aconbury swept her into his arms and whispered in her ear lines that were not in the play.
“I love you, and I am going to marry you; I will not take no for an answer. I shall give all my money to the poor, deserving and undeserving; I will agree to anything if you will only be my wife.”
Theodosia, caught in his strong grasp in front of an intent audience could do no more than stammer the closing line, “I am yours; my heart is thine for evermore.”
The final curtain was jerked across this affecting scene. The actors came forward to take their bows and make their curtsies to a great deal of applause and much laughter. A voice in the audience called for the author, and Justin compelled a blushing Theodosia to the centre of the stage, unable to resist his firm grip.
Which he retained as they followed the audience and cast into the main hall, where punch and cakes were waiting for all the guests. Mr Darcy, noticing it, took Theodosia’s other hand. “You will permit me to offer my felicitations and wish you every happiness.”
“As do I,” said Elizabeth, looking pleased. “What a day it has been. Mr Giddings is to ask Sir Lawrence Penfold for permission to pay his addresses to Olivia, Miss Turlington has found a lord to flirt with, even if he is a widower past forty, and Lady Catherine has decided that Justin, despite his wealth, has too little pride and sense of his own importance to make a suitable husband for Anne.”
“And I,” said Justin, pulling Theodosia into the library and closing the door, “am the most fortunate man in the world. Tell me you love me, Thoedosia, I want to hear it again from your lips.”
“I do love you,” she began, and was silenced by his arms tightening around her as he clasped her in a passionate embrace.
Copyright
MR DARCY’S CHRISTMAS
Copyright © Elizabeth Aston 2012
MR DARCY’S HOUSE PARTY
Copyright © Elizabeth Aston 2013
MR DARCY’S MASQUERADE
Copyright © Elizabeth Aston 2014
MR DARCY’S DRAMA
Copyright © Elizabeth Aston 2015
The right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the copyright owners.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, character, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events, or locales is entirely accidental.
Cover design by Angela Oltmann
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