by Sahara Kelly
As they settled themselves, Gwyneth looked at her gentlemen.
“I believe we’ve been given permission to be a family,” she murmured. “So from now on, this is where we all sit.”
“I suppose we have to sing too, not pretend,” muttered Jeremy.
“You do indeed.”
He sighed.
*~~*~~*
The afternoon began with a light meal, and then everyone turned their attention to Wolfbridge’s ballroom. It had not been used very much, although it had proved to be useful on several occasions, providing shelter for tenants attending outdoor events. It had also been the site of violence, but that was—thankfully—in the past.
But now, one end had become a theatre of sorts, thanks to Gabriel’s inventive nature.
The dais contained several chairs and a low stool, and green fabric covered the aged boards. There was a large curtain behind it, and two smaller ones either side draped as they would be if this wasn’t Wolfbridge, but Drury Lane.
Beside the chairs were large pots with boughs of pine and evergreens, simulating a forest of sorts.
And on the floor to one side of all this was a single chair. This was for the narrator, Harry, who had been unanimously elected as having the best speaking voice.
“You’ll be heard in the back row,” said Jeremy. “All that yelling in the army.” He grinned as Harry rolled his eyes.
“Well at least you don’t have to learn any lines,” consoled Gabriel. “You’ll have the entire script right there in your lap.
“A valid point,” he had agreed.
And exactly on time, the audience began to arrive, slowly at first, then filling the chairs set out for them.
The children were allowed to sit on the cushions in front of the stage, and there was quite a bit of excited chatter as they settled themselves. Some of the men remained standing, preferring to be out of the way.
Gwyneth guessed they were planning on sneaking away if it was too boring; she hoped their performance would keep everybody in the room. This would be an important lesson for all if it went off well.
She peered through a tiny peephole in one of the curtains.
“Filling up, then,” whispered Evan at her shoulder.
She nodded. “The children are happy on the floor. That was an excellent idea.”
“I have them now and again.” He grinned at her, his face close.
She couldn’t resist it. “For luck.” Leaning into him, she dropped a quick kiss on his lips.
“Me too,” Jeremy walked up.
“Of course.”
Within moments they were all there, ready to start the performance, and all kissed by their Lady. Including Royce, who was the last, and—if she read his touch rightly—made a slightly more intense expression of affection.
“Go.” Gabriel pushed Harry onto the makeshift stage.
Since he didn’t have to change into a costume, he’d been elected as the welcoming committee and seating manager. The fact that he’d already greeted every member of the audience was completely ignored and his appearance from the stage stimulated a round of applause and more than a few cheers. It was a good start.
The plan was to keep it as simple as possible, yet entertaining. Something that would enchant the children and amuse the adults.
Gwyneth guessed it was working as she heard the silence fall and Harry clear his throat as he began the narration.
“Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess…”
That was her cue.
Clad in a suitably sparkling “princess” gown, which had been created by Gabriel from bits and pieces of leftover fabric, decorated trims and ribbons, and all draped in the classical Grecian style. Gwyneth walked onto the dais and sat in the chair, keeping her head high and hoping the candlelight was enough to make the paste jewels in her little crown twinkle.
There was a collective “ooh” as she settled herself. Good. It was working. She smiled and nodded, in what she assumed was a royal manner.
“She was a kindly princess who ruled her kingdom fairly. But there was one problem. She was lonely and wanted a Prince to rule with her.”
That brought a tiny snort from someone in the audience.
“Honestly, Mrs B. She did.” Harry went off-script and there was a solid round of laughter.
“Anyway,” he continued. “She let it be known throughout the neighbouring kingdoms that she would like to meet a suitable prince.” He took a breath. “There were many applicants, since everyone knew of her kind heart and her beauty.”
“And her land, lad. Don’t forget her land…”
Gwyneth had a hard time keeping a straight face. She hadn’t expected quite so much audience participation.
“Right,” nodded Harry, fighting a laugh. “Over the next few months she met many Princes, but at the end had narrowed it down to four. They were…”
He paused for a moment, letting the excitement build. “Prince Osborne”.
Jeremy strode onto the small stage, swirling his short cape dramatically. He did look very handsome in his tight stockings and the puffed trousers Gabriel and Evan had put together.
There was a round of applause. Jeremy bowed to Gwyneth, took her hand and kissed it, and then moved to one side of the stage.
“Prince Wymonde.”
Evan marched on with a clank, since he had managed to attach several pieces of old armour to his shirt. Gwyneth wanted to giggle as he also kissed her hand, although with a yelp and a wince as the metal bit into his ribs.
But she held her countenance and waited as the applause came again.
“Prince Elfric.”
Gabriel entered, clad entirely in white, a cape trimmed with something glittery and an elegant cane in his hand. He didn’t swagger, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that this was indeed a prince. He was made for the stage and Gwyneth knew all eyes were on him as he gracefully bowed low and kissed her hand. This time the audience both applauded and cheered.
“Show off,” hissed Jeremy.
Gwyneth bit her lip.
“And finally, Prince Cordell.”
The last prince, Royce, was a sight to behold. His black boots shone, black breeches hugged his strong thighs, and over a black shirt he wore a tabard—created from an old flag—with what looked like some sort of raven on a dark red field. With his sharp blue eyes and military demeanour, he could easily have passed for a warrior king.
He bowed, as had the others, and kissed her hand, then gazed at the audience.
The applause was tentative, and Gwyneth could understand why. This was Royce at his most intimidating. And it worked perfectly.
Once they were all standing in their assigned places, Harry continued.
“All four princes were suitable matches, and the Princess found herself facing a difficult challenge. So she decided to invite them all to tea.”
Each prince knew his task and within moments the men had a tea table set up, and an old set of china on top of it. It was tight on the tiny stage, but they all managed to squeeze around the little table. For a few moments, they all pretended to sip and enjoy their tea.
“After they had all had tea and a pleasant conversation, the Princess thought very carefully and at last made her decision.”
Gwyneth rose. She didn’t have many lines, so she resolved to give it her all.
“Dear kind gentlemen,” she began. “I have enjoyed your company and I thank you for allowing me to get to know you a little better. It has helped me make up my mind which of you to choose as my future husband.” She turned to Royce. “Prince Cordell. You are doubtless a fine knight, but your presence is overwhelming and I fear you would take control of my lands away from me.”
A few boos greeted this statement as Royce put on a fierce expression, shook his fist at Gwyneth, and stomped off the stage. Gwyneth continued, undaunted. “Prince Osborne. I find your manners charming and your wit entertaining, but you might well distract my household with your handsome appearance.” She
shook her head as Jeremy left the stage with a frown.
At this point, an arm clutching a small bottle appeared through a gap in the curtain behind the stage. There was a gasp from the audience as it hovered over Gwyneth’s teacup. Several drops were shaken into her tea, then the arm disappeared.
Apparently unaware, she lifted the cup and took a drink, even though the children—and even some of the adults—were shouting “no” quite vociferously. Happy that they were so involved, she ignored the warnings and continued with her role.
“Next,” she began. Then she put her hand to her head and cried out dramatically. “Oh, oh. I believe I am poisoned…the tea…” She slumped back into her chair as the audience sucked in breaths of horror and Evan and Gabriel knelt beside her.
Harry took over, returning to his narration.
“There was much concern over the Princess’s health, and alarms went out across her land.”
The two remaining “princes” left the stage and returned with a blanket to cover the prone “princess”.
“Everyone feared for her life since there was indeed poison in her tea,” continued Harry, “but at last the antidote was found and sent to the palace. Unfortunately, there was one serious problem.” He paused, milking the drama of the moment. “The recipe was written down on a scroll and had to be mixed in order to save her life.”
At this point, Jeremy—back to breeches and shirt—hurried in with the aforementioned scroll.
“Prince Wymonde took the scroll and found the words written closely together.”
Evan unrolled the paper and held it up, showing it to the audience. Gwyneth could have sworn they all leaned forward simultaneously. She closed her eyes again, but was very pleased with the results of her quick peek.
“What does it say,” asked Prince Elfric?
“I cannot tell,” answered Prince Wymonde.
“Whyever not?” Prince Elfric took the paper.
Evan and Gabriel acted out their parts admirably as the audience held its breath.
“Why it is the cure,” said Prince Elfric. “All we need is a cup of willow bark tea with honey and these magic words.
“I’ll make the tea,” said Prince Wymonde.
Evan scurried away to return immediately with a fresh cup and saucer. He went to Gwyneth and raised her head, pretending to have her drink.
“Prince Elfric read the magic words as the Princess swallowed the tea. As soon as they were spoken, the Princess revived.”
Gwyneth sat up and smiled at the applause she received for such a rapid recovery.
She held up her hand as she rose, assisted by Evan. “Good friends, thank you for your encouragement. I must now choose my prince.” She looked at Evan and Gabriel. “There can be only one suitable mate for me. The one who saved my life.” She turned to the audience. “I am here because of him—the prince who could read. Without him I would have died.”
She held out her hand to Gabriel, and they both bowed.
The room rang with cheers and whistles and applause as Harry stood and closed the book on his lap, to be joined by Royce, Jeremy and Evan.
The play was over, and Gwyneth prayed it had had the desired result. Reading was a skill that would never let anyone down. Something that could easily change lives, improve fortunes and bring many good things to families.
It was her intention to have that happen at Wolfbridge, and she hoped their little performance had begun the process.
Whether it would succeed or not remained to be seen, but if she were honest with herself, it had also been great fun.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The cast of the theatrical production sprawled contentedly in the warm parlour, embracing the success of their venture.
“It was the little ones who really got involved, wasn’t it?” Jeremy, leg slung over the arm of his chair, wiggled his foot, annoying Darcy who was trying to nap nearby.
“They did indeed,” Gabriel grinned. “I had two of the girls follow me around afterward, asking if I was a real prince.”
“To which you, of course, answered yes,” teased Harry.
“Well certainly. I didn’t want to disappoint them. I told them it was a secret, though, and they promised not to tell.”
Royce watched as the humour and jests continued, the teasing gentle and fun, and Gwyneth, still attired in her fanciful draperies, was a sight for his hungry eyes.
Her pleasure in the afternoon’s activities was obvious from her genuinely happy smile. But it seemed a little different somehow, as if something had touched her deeply enough to reveal the Gwyneth that had been hiding for quite some time.
That thought led him to wonder what she would have been like if her life had been a happier one. If she’d had reason to smile more often, instead of finding it this late.
Then he shrugged the question away. They were all what they were and where they were at this moment because of their pasts. And right now, a mood of contentment rested on all of them.
“Well then,” said Gwyneth. “Did any of you hear from the adults? Do you think our point was made?”
Jeremy nodded. “Oh yes. Not directly, but Mrs B caught up with me just before she left. It seems our little entertainment did encourage several of the tenants to support the school idea.”
“I’ll wager Mrs B had something to do with it too,” remarked Evan. “I’m only sorry that Trick and Jane didn’t attend, but I understand the baby is colicky, so they decided to stay at home.”
“Just as well in this weather,” nodded Jeremy. “Besides, if he’d seen us in our costumes, we’d never hear the end of it. The way you clanked around…”
The laugh was general.
“I think brandy is in order. We’ll dine like princes and princesses tomorrow, but tonight…” Gwyneth stretched. “I don’t need another thing. Just a glass of brandy.”
“Your food was magnificent, Evan,” complimented Royce. “You hit the mark between children and their parents, and everyone seemed very surprised and happy at the spread you laid on. Thank you.”
“Bravo,” agreed Gwyneth, applauding.
The others joined in and Evan blushed. “Oh pshaw. You all helped. And Mrs B, bless her, did all the pies. I was just glad to get the armour off. Lord knows how those knights of yore did all that jousting. They must have had blisters everywhere.” He stood, looking a bit embarrassed by the praise and the attention. “Right then. Brandy it is.”
“So I expect we’ll hear from a few men when we start the rebuilding of the new school,” mused Harry. “I’d like to make sure the roof is intact, repair any outside walls that might need it, and then move indoors.”
“If the weather permits, that should be a workable schedule,” replied Royce. “I’ll get the names of the tenants involved so that we can pay them for their work. Another incentive, I think, to involve as many as we can.”
“You believe in this, don’t you?” Gwyneth looked at him, her head tilted to one side.
“I’ve always believed in the idea that everyone should be able to read,” he agreed. “I’ve not been convinced that those who can’t would encourage their children to learn, though.” He nodded his thanks to Evan, who handed him a glass of brandy. “Perhaps we’ll see some adults expressing an interest. I’d very much like that.”
“So,” said Gabriel, feet up on an ottoman and his drink nearby, “What shall we do this Christmas Eve?”
“Well,” Harry leaned back. “If we were high-born members of the Ton, we would be enjoying the festivities. Some charades, perhaps, singing songs, or acting out plays for the entertainment of our equally high-born guests.”
“We’ve already done the play, and the rest of it sounds quite hideous,” snorted Jeremy. “I’d rather play a game of Spillikins.”
Gabriel chuckled. “I was dreadful at that.”
Evan nodded. “Me too. Always lost.”
“And charades are definitely not for me,” sighed Harry. “Never liked the damn things. Everyone ends up embarrassi
ng themselves.”
“Anyone sing?” Royce raised an eyebrow.
Total silence fell. Not even a pop or crackle from the fire.
“In that case, I propose a game of dice.”
“Oh.” Jeremy blinked. “We have dice?”
“We do.” Royce stood and reached into an inside pocket of his coat. “Found these lovelies the other day in one of the bottom drawers in my study.”
He rattled them in his hand. “What shall we play?”
“How about a few hands of Hazard?” Harry grinned. “I think there are enough of us to make for a lively game.”
Gwyneth blinked. “I’ve never played.”
“We’ll teach you, love,” Jeremy came to her chair and extended a hand. “It’s fun.”
The furniture was moved around, and a table placed prominently in the centre, close enough to the fire for warmth, but with enough room for everyone to move without hindrance if they needed to.
Royce began, rolling the dice with ease, and showing Gwyneth the numbers. Since he was the ‘caster’ he chose seven as the main.
“Now we all wager on whether he’ll throw the main,” explained Jeremy.
“Um.” She frowned. “I have nothing to wager.”
Everyone looked at everyone else.
“Vouchers? We could use paper vouchers…” Harry glanced at Royce.
“Or…” Gabriel’s grin was pure and complete wickedness. “We are all wearing boots or shoes. I’ll wager my right boot…winner gets to put theirs back on.”
Evan chuckled. “Yes. I like that.” He took off his boot.
Others joined the pile, and Gwyneth tossed her slipper on top. “Right then, roll away Royce.”
He did, falling back into the well-remembered pattern of shaking the dice high up by his head, then tossing them onto the table.
And by God, he still had the magic touch. A seven appeared, courtesy of a four and a three.
The shout echoed around the room.
“Damn you,” laughed Harry. “I should’ve guessed.”
“How did you do that?” Gwyneth’s eyes were wide with surprise.
“Lucky devil,” Evan mumbled. “There goes my boot.”
“Again. Do it again, and I’ll believe that was something more than beginner’s luck.” Gabriel’s eyes narrowed at Royce in mock fury.