After he finished, Jasper grinned boyishly at Matilda. “Well, what do you think?”
Her eyes were round. “It was the most perfect thing I have ever seen in my entire life.”
Jasper chuckled. “That is what I like – an appreciative audience!”
“Bravo, Mr. Fitzpatrick!” said Mrs. Ramsay warmly. “You made me feel as if we were indeed in an army camp in France. Do you play King Harry?”
“Alas, no,” said Jasper. “I am merely Bardolph, but I am an understudy for the king.”
Matilda ran to her father, who now stood by the door, and tugged on his trousers. “May I marry Mr. Fitzpatrick when I grow up?”
“Jilted, by God!” exclaimed Darcy.
“You are at an unfair disadvantage,” said Jasper modestly. “Women always prefer actors.”
“That was an impressive performance. I had no idea you had such talent.” Darcy was astonished by the intensity Jasper had brought to his speech.
Jasper bowed with a flourish. “Thank you.” But Darcy could tell it meant something to his cousin.
“When will I be old enough to go to a play?” asked Matilda plaintively.
“Not until you are eighteen,” said her father.
“But that is forever!” she wailed and burst into loud sobs.
Jasper stared helplessly at the distraught child. “I am sorry.”
“Mr. Fitzpatrick,” said Ramsay loudly to be heard over his daughter’s wails. “Might it be possible to take Matilda to see the inside of the theatre one day when it is not in use?”
“Of course!” Jasper brightened immediately. He squatted down again. “Would you like to come inside the theatre with your mama and papa? We can even stand on the stage and pretend there is an audience.”
A smile broke through her tears. “Oh, yes! And Mr. Darcy, too?”
“Darcy, too,” he assured her, though he looked less pleased about that part.
Darcy resolved to buy Matilda a bag of sweetmeats for getting him in the door of the theatre again. It could be his chance to see Elizabeth.
“THANK YOU FOR ACCOMPANYING me,” Jasper told Elizabeth when they reached the stage door. “I have no idea what to say to a little girl if something goes wrong.”
“It sounds as if you did well the first time,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Who is she, anyway?”
“The daughter of a friend of a friend,” said Jasper gloomily. “She is very enthusiastic.”
“Well, if she is theatre-mad, all you need to do is to talk about the theatre, and that is what you do naturally.” They moved through the cluttered backstage area and out into the house where the audience usually sat.
Jasper said, “You might as well wait here in the vestibule until they come. No need for both of us to freeze outside.” He unlocked the main door and stepped through it.
Elizabeth paced back and forth across the vestibule. During a performance, it could get warm from all the body heat, but now it was chilly even with her pelisse and gloves on.
The door opened again, revealing a handsome couple, followed by Jasper holding a little girl’s hand, or perhaps she was holding his.
Behind them all came Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth’s stomach flip-flopped with sudden horror. Why had she not asked further about this friend of a friend? Now she would be trapped in conversation with him. Could she keep up the pretense of not knowing him the entire time?
Jasper said, “This is the vestibule where the audience comes between plays, so you must imagine it is full of elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen. And pray allow me to present Miss Merton, who has graciously agreed to join us. Miss Merton, Miss Matilda Ramsay, Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay, and Mr. Darcy – oh, but you have met him already.”
Elizabeth curtsied. To avoid saying anything that could involve Darcy, she addressed the little girl. “Welcome to the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, Miss Ramsay.”
The little girl bounced on her toes. “Are you an actress?”
“I only act when it is absolutely necessary, but my aunt is an actress,” said Elizabeth.
Jasper said, “Miss Merton’s aunt is Mrs. MacLean.”
Mrs. Ramsay exclaimed, “Oh, but Mrs. MacLean is a great favorite of mine. She brings such life to her roles that it is hard to take my eyes from her when she is on stage.”
Now Elizabeth had to look at Mrs. Ramsay even though Darcy was standing beside her. “I will tell her you said so.”
“I want to be an actress,” announced the little girl.
Elizabeth held her hand out to her. “Then we must show you the rest of the theatre.”
The little girl skipped between Jasper and Elizabeth as they entered the seating area.
“This is the pit, where most of the audience sits,” Jasper said. “They are usually more interested in talking than paying attention to the play, but if they dislike the play, they will jeer and throw things at us. I was hit in the arm by a potato once.”
“That was very rude!” cried Matilda.
Jasper laughed. “Yes, but it is part of the entertainment for them. They would not come to the theatre if they had to sit quietly and watch us. The people who sit in the private boxes tend to be better behaved. At least they rarely throw food at us.”
Elizabeth tried to avoid looking directly at Darcy, but something seemed odd about him in the glimpses she caught out of the corner of her eye. His head was bent toward Mrs. Ramsay’s. Were they flirting? Then he talked to her husband, pointing out something in the gallery that made Mr. Ramsay laugh.
“Here is the stage. The part in front of the curtain is called the apron,” she said brightly.
“How do you get there?” the girl asked excitedly.
“There are steps which will take us to the wings,” said Jasper. “This way, behind that door.”
Elizabeth risked a look back over her shoulder. Darcy was whispering something to Mrs. Ramsay. Had he developed a tendre for his friend’s wife? It did not seem like him.
Not like him. That was it. He was different today. In the past, Darcy had always watched her. Even in the early days of their acquaintance, she would often discover that he seemed to be studying her. Whenever she would turn around, his eyes would be on her. She had thought at first he looked at her only to criticize, but later realized it must have been admiration. Now that connection was gone. It was what she had wanted, was it not? Why, then, did she feel a pang of regret?
Could he possibly have believed her story that she was someone else? He would not have expected Elizabeth Bennet to lie to him about her identity, so perhaps he thought it must be true.
Or perhaps he had decided she was more trouble than she was worth and had just stopped caring about her.
She plastered a cheerful smile to her face and told little girl, “Here is the stage. It is set for the next performance of Bluebeard.”
The girl asked in an awed voice, “How did you get a ship inside the building?”
Jasper laughed. “It is not a real ship. Our audiences want to see an elaborate spectacle and would think it a poor production if we did not have something impressive. The carpenters work very hard to build our sets. Come behind the ship, and you will see it is but the appearance of a ship. The ship is only the beginning. We actually have live camels on stage during the performance.”
“Real camels?” demanded the girl.
Jasper laughed. “Real, live, smelly camels. Once one of them spat all over me when it was upset. I had to play the entire scene soaked in camel spittle!”
Elizabeth stepped into the wings, ostensibly to find a prop to show the girl, but in truth to take time to collect herself. Darcy had deliberately sought her out at their last meeting and tried to insist on talking to her. He was not actually ignoring her now; he had bowed when Jasper presented her, but everything he had said was directed to one of the Ramsays or Jasper. She was apparently of no importance.
To think she had been so terrified that he would pursue her! She had greatly overestimated her own appeal. It
stung more than she wanted to admit.
The others came past the spot where she lurked in the shadows, giving her the chance to study Darcy surreptitiously. He looked no different than he had in the past. The only change was his attitude towards her. And now she was the one watching him.
That thought was intolerable. Blindly she turned back to find the prop table and grabbed the first impressive looking item she saw, a jeweled crown.
She hurried past the three adult visitors to Jasper, who was showing the girl how the ship was constructed. She set the crown on Jasper’s head. “Your crown, King Henry,” she said.
“Is that a real crown?” asked the girl excitedly.
“It looks real, does it not?” Elizabeth took the crown back and showed the inside to the girl. “But it is just paint and paste.”
Matilda studied it with a frown, carefully set it on her own head, and giggled.
Jasper cried, “Behold the queen!”
Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay exclaimed over their newly royal daughter while Darcy quietly said something to Jasper which made him laugh.
Jasper bowed to the girl. “Your Majesty, if you will be so kind as to come this way, I will show you the backstage area.”
Elizabeth hung back as the others trooped after Jasper, hoping to be alone, but Mrs. Ramsay appeared beside her. “You must permit me to thank you, Miss Merton. It was most generous of you to give up your afternoon to amuse a child you do not even know.”
“I am happy to help, and she is an engaging child,” Elizabeth said. “It is an unusual experience for us as well. Most mothers would have vapors at the idea of their daughter wishing to go on the stage.”
Mrs. Ramsay smiled. “Between us, I am one of them. We have no wish for Matilda to tread the boards, but if I were to tell her that, she would become absolutely determined to do so. She is a strong-willed child and as persistent as a terrier. Sometimes the best way to discourage her from an idea is to appear to encourage it.”
Elizabeth looked at her with a new respect. “That is a clever approach.”
Mrs. Ramsay gave a tinkling laugh. “We learned it out of sheer desperation. Pray excuse me, I think my husband wants me.” She crossed to join him in a conversation with Jasper. Darcy stood to one side, examining a jar of greasepaint, showing no interest in her.
Elizabeth suddenly found it unbearable. Impulsively she walked over to him. “I am glad you have accepted that I am not your old acquaintance.”
He turned to her with a look of surprise and bowed. “You have said so, and I am, of course, loath to contradict a lady.” He returned to examining the greasepaint and pried the lid off.
She could not miss his implication. He knew perfectly well who she was, and he could not be less interested in her now. Lifting her chin, she said, “I hope you enjoy your time in Edinburgh.” She quickly retreated to Jasper’s side, trying to draw strength from his familiar form.
MRS. RAMSAY PATTED Darcy’s arm. “You did beautifully.”
“It did not feel that way,” said Darcy evenly. He had hated every minute of it. All he had wanted was to enjoy the sight of Elizabeth and talk to her, and instead he had practically ignored her. He abhorred this kind of pretense.
“I know, but it worked,” Mrs. Ramsay said earnestly. “When she first saw you, she looked like a deer ready to bolt and tried to stay as far from you as she could. When you did nothing, she relaxed, and after that she started watching you. By the end she looked unhappy and deliberately tried to talk to you. Aye, I would call that a success.”
Did it count when Elizabeth had only spoken to him as a test? How could she think he would not recognize her? There might be a woman somewhere who looked exactly like Elizabeth Bennet, but she would not have Elizabeth’s melodious voice, her infectious laugh that could light up a room. She might wear a lavender scent like Elizabeth, but she would lack Elizabeth’s particular sway of the hips when she walked and the delicate movements of her hands. And she would not make his heart beat faster and every inch of him feel more alive.
Turning away after answering her question was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but Mrs. Ramsay was right. Following his inclinations had made Elizabeth fear him. It was hard to credit such an idea, since he had never known her to fail to rise to a challenge, but perhaps having to leave her family had shaken her confidence.
Now it would be over a fortnight until he could hope to see her at Hogmanay, a fortnight of dark, cold, empty days. His first Christmas without Georgiana and other family. He was far away from all of them except Jasper, who had told him to stay away and would deny their relationship if asked, alone in a country without Christmas.
ELIZABETH NEEDED TO cover her discomfiture after the Ramsays and Darcy left. Jasper knew her too well, and he might say something to Darcy. “You have a little admirer there,” she teased.
Jasper flashed a grin. “She says she is going to marry me when she grows up.”
“You should take care! She strikes me as a most determined young lady. Now, do you wish to run some lines while we are here or go home?”
“Home. I am starving.” He clutched at his stomach in a highly dramatic manner.
“You are always starving, even right after you eat a meal!” she teased, hoping some banter with Jasper would distract her from brooding about Mr. Darcy and today’s blow to her pride. But even while listening to Jasper’s pleasant chatter, her stomach roiled with thoughts of Darcy. Why should his disinterest hurt her now?
She had never sought his good opinion and had hoped never to see him again. She had always assumed he would waste no time in forgetting her after her refusal of his proposal, and the thought had not troubled her. Even when he had sought her out that evening backstage, her primary feeling had been fear of discovery, but lurking behind, she had felt complimented that some part of him still cared enough for her to wish to talk to her. It could never be, but it had fed her vanity and softened her sentiments towards him.
Now her pride was mortified by the discovery that he had no interest in her at all. She did not know why he had bothered to try to talk to her. Perhaps he just wished to get an uncomfortable meeting over with in private, to make certain there would be no scene. Once he learned she intended to deny his acquaintance, even that slight interest in her vanished.
Why did she have that hollow feeling in her stomach of having lost something precious when there had never been anything to lose?
Chapter 6
ON CHRISTMAS MORNING Darcy tried hard not to think of what day it was, devoting himself instead to writing a letter to Georgiana until the butler announced he had a visitor.
Jasper bounded into the room. “Happy Christmas! Will you dine with me today?”
Darcy had never thought he would be so pathetically glad to see his nuisance of a cousin. Elizabeth Bennet had indeed brought him low if the idea of dining with Jasper at some Scottish public house felt like cause for celebration. He pushed the letter aside. “I would be happy to do so.”
They set off as soon as Darcy was bundled up against the cold wind. “Where are we going?” No doubt somewhere he would never be seen in London.
Jasper grinned. “You wanted to meet Mrs. MacLean, did you not? Today is your chance. She holds a Christmas dinner for English exiles, and she told me I could bring an English friend. Just think – Christmas goose, venison, plum pudding.”
Elizabeth. She would certainly be at her aunt’s Christmas dinner. His face might be half frozen, but it was nothing compared to the warmth flooding through him.
“It will be mostly theatre people,” said Jasper. “I hope you do not mind.”
“Jasper, I can think of nothing in the world I would rather be doing.”
Jasper frowned, his high spirits suddenly vanished. “There is no need to mock me. I meant the invitation kindly.”
“I was not mocking you. Your invitation made me happier than you can know.” Darcy noticed his cousin’s dubious expression. Perhaps he had gone too far. “I have been dr
eading the idea of Christmas with no celebration.”
“Oh. That is good, then. It is a strange idea, is it not? I am told they make up for it next week with the Hogmanay celebrations for New Year’s. If half of what I have been told about Hogmanay is true, it will be a memorable event.”
“Scotland still seems strange to me. I understand the accent better now, but the customs still surprise me. Do you like it here?” Darcy asked.
“Yes, very much, apart from the weather, obviously. It is so much less stodgy than London. Or perhaps I simply like having no one know who I am. And the acting, of course.”
“You seem to be thriving,” said Darcy.
“You mean I am not up to mischief? There is that, too.” Jasper rubbed his gloved hands together. “But what of you? Have you found the man you are looking for?”
“Not yet.”
“How much longer will you keep looking?”
“I have not decided. Are you so eager to be rid of me?”
“Not at all. You have kept my secret, and it is pleasant to have someone I could turn to in case of difficulty.”
Now came the truth. Jasper always needed money. “Are you in need of funds?”
“Hardly! I brought a quarter’s allowance with me and most of it is still sitting in the bank. I could live for years on that. It is remarkable how long money lasts when you do not gamble or have to wear the latest fashions or pay a valet.” He stuck out one foot. “I polish my own boots now. I manage pretty well, I think.”
Although Jasper’s boots appeared to be acquainted with boot black, they were scuffed at the toes and they lacked the mirror sheen required among the Pinks of the ton. “You do very well. Where does Mrs. MacLean live?”
“On Heriot Row. Not far now,” said Jasper casually, as if Darcy had not been hunting desperately for this information. Less than a dozen blocks from the Ramsay house, and he had known nothing of it.
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