by Julia Tagan
“I don’t understand. The cast is here, we’re ready to perform. Why is my father such an indispensable element of the play you’d cancel the whole thing? He won’t be appearing on stage. He hasn’t in years.”
“It’s in the contract.”
His stubbornness infuriated her. “Has Bibby put you up to this?”
The man took a second longer than necessary to reply. “Bibby? I don’t take orders from Bibby.”
She didn’t push him, but his response confirmed her fears. Bibby was no doubt colluding with Wilkinson to send her father to prison so he could take over the circuit. He’d probably offered him a share in return. Everyone was hoping they’d fail, and her father would be the scapegoat in the process. She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms.
“Harry!”
Her father gave a shout from the back of the theater. Even from this far away, she could tell he was drunk by the way he wove down the aisle.
“Have we begun?” he asked.
“Father, how nice to see you.” She turned to Wilkinson. “The contract is complete. Why don’t you check the box office and make sure your staff is prepared?”
The man glared in her father’s direction and scuttled away.
Once he was out of sight Harriet ran to her father, took him roughly by the arm, and led him to one of the benches against the back wall.
“You’ve been drinking.”
He shook his head, bewildered. “I only had a small drink before I came here. It was hardly anything.” The last word was slurred.
“Is it that difficult? All you had to do was walk from the Craven Arms to the theater. Yet you couldn’t help ducking away for a drink? Everyone here is relying on you.”
“Iris.”
“What?”
“You look like Iris.”
Harriet had never heard her father refer to her mother by her Christian name. He rested his chin on his chest and breathed a heavy sigh. The nostalgia and intimacy with which he said the one word made her heart ache for him. “I do?”
He touched her hair. “You do. Same blue eyes, same hair. She was more classically beautiful, of course. You have an oddness about you, but you share many of the same features.”
Harriet didn’t know whether to thank him or reproach him.
He continued. “When I saw you today, for a moment I forgot she’d died. I miss her so.”
“I’m sure you do. I wish I’d known her.”
“She was a brilliant actress. She could’ve been the next Mrs. Ivey, playing leading roles, living in luxury, but she chose to marry me instead. She took on the life of the strolling player with no regrets.”
“No regrets,” Harriet echoed. How hard it must have been for him, these many years, to have lost his one true love. Because of her being born.
“I know I shouldn’t have had so much to drink.” He gave her a teary look.
“You’re here now, and that’s what’s important. I’ll handle the rehearsal, I’ll handle everything.”
“I take it Freddie isn’t here?”
“No, he’s not.” She sat back and studied him. “Why can’t the two of you bear to be in the same room anymore?”
“He’s the reason for this. He’s the reason for my bad behavior.”
As soon as she began feeling sorry for her father, he turned her good will on its head. “Don’t be ridiculous. Did he force the liquor down your throat? I highly doubt it.”
“Oh, he was more subtle than that.”
“Stop it.” She’d had enough of his drunken ranting. “Stop blaming everyone else.”
“I know, I know.” He sniffed and dug around his pockets for a handkerchief.
She handed him her own and he blew his nose loudly. The cast trickled back onstage, in twos and threes.
The effort of clearing his nostrils seemed to energize her father. “Tell me about this earl who’s been hanging about.”
“Quiet, there’s no need to shout. He’s to marry the Duchess of Dorset’s daughter.”
“Quite a tongue twister.” He tried to say it quickly and laughed. “I’ll have to work on that.”
He was getting tiresome. “Are you quite finished? We have work to do.”
“Are you sure he’s an earl?”
“Don’t be daft. Of course he’s an earl. What makes you even say that?”
He stuck out his lower lip and cocked his head. “Don’t be angry at me. I take it this daughter of the duchess is a pretty thing?”
“Yes, she’s a lovely girl.”
“But you’d rather have Lord Abingdon to yourself, right?”
Harriet was amazed at his presumption. And at how much the idea of William and Marianne together bothered her. “Of course not. He’s an earl, father. Earls don’t marry girls like me.”
“They don’t. And it’s best you remember that.”
Harriet had had enough of his insults. No wonder Freddie wanted nothing to do with the man. He was rude and self-centered and a drunkard.
She rose and pointed to him as if he were a bad dog. “Stay put in your seat until I say you can leave.”
In response, he smiled up at her and settled back for a nap.
The door to the lobby flung open and a resplendent woman waltzed in. Their star actress had appeared at last. The final piece of the puzzle. Harriet quickly intercepted her, blocking her view of her sleeping father in the back row.
“Mrs. Ivey?”
She stopped and turned, not looking at Harriet as much as offering herself up for view. The woman was an actress in the truest sense of the word, from the top of her gaily-adorned bonnet to the tip of her satin slippers. She wore a sumptuous peach gown with a cornflower blue sash, and her hair spilled down her neck in a careless manner that certainly took hours to achieve.
“Yes?”
“I’m Sam Farley’s daughter and I’ll be leading the rehearsal today. Thank you so much for appearing with us, it’s such an honor.”
Mrs. Ivey looked her up and down. “What’s happened to Mr. Farley?”
“He’ll be here shortly, but we don’t want to waste your valuable time, so if you please.” Harriet guided her onto the stage and called for the cast to gather.
They rose to attention, drawn by the presence of theater royalty. Unfortunately, Mrs. Kembler’s costume dipped unnaturally low in the neckline and Toby’s pants were too short. Harriet would do a quick fix before curtain but for now, she hoped Mrs. Ivey wouldn’t think them too provincial and walk out.
“I’d like to welcome the esteemed Mrs. Ivey to the Farley Players’ production of As You Like It,” said Harriet to cheers and claps. Mrs. Ivey responded with a practiced expression of demure overconfidence.
“Everyone get settled and in five minutes we’ll begin at the top, please.”
In the wings, the various set pieces and drops were where they ought to be and, much to Harriet’s surprise, Miss Entwhistle was efficiently hanging costumes for the quick changes at stage left.
“Don’t tell his lordship, will you?” Miss Entwhistle murmured as Harriet passed by. “If I don’t help out there’s no way Mrs. Ivey will have time to switch from a court gown to country breeches.”
Harriet smiled. Miss Entwhistle’s lucidity seemed to have improved during her association with the actors.
For all the insanity, real or imagined, Harriet was happier than she’d been in a long time. The hub of activity, everyone working toward a common goal, created an infectiously giddy atmosphere, one where she was challenged and appreciated. Although it was a shame her father was incapable of keeping away from the drink, she had to admit she’d much prefer to be the one in charge, particularly after the hard work of the past few days. She wanted to see it through.
She called places, hopped off the stage and settled on one of the benches in the middl
e of the pit to watch.
“Has the famous Mrs. Ivey arrived yet?”
William joined her.
“I thought you were back at the hotel, making notes on the grand experiment.” Seeing him again so soon gave her a jolt of pleasure.
“My work, for today, is done.”
“Mrs. Ivey has arrived and we’re almost ready to begin. But before we do that, please follow me.”
“Why?”
She took him by the arm and led him up the aisle, through the lobby and outside. The daylight seemed unnaturally bright.
“What on earth has gotten into you?”
“Do exactly as I say. Turn around three times.”
William dropped his head back and laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding. Is this about the curse?”
“You can’t go back inside that theater until you’ve done so. Turn around.”
He did.
“Twice more.”
He complied.
“Now spit.”
“An earl doesn’t spit out on a busy city street. It’s unseemly.”
“It’s not difficult.” Harriet swished the saliva in her mouth and spat, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Freddy had taught her well.
William laughed again and followed her example.
“And finally, you must swear.”
“Bloody hell.” He immediately clapped a hand over his lips, barely suppressing a smile. “I’m sorry, that’s a terrible thing to say in front of a woman.”
“I’ve heard worse in my day.”
William’s success at the dispensary had changed him. He appeared to be in high spirits. It was hard to imagine the man she’d met in the library so many days ago performing an unseemly act with such gusto. She wondered what Marianne would think of her potential husband now.
“So this way, you hope, there will be no more disasters?” he asked.
“I have no doubt. Thank you for your compliance.”
He held the door for her as they re-entered the lobby. “You’ll be happy to know we have a coach back to London tomorrow. I know the duchess and Lady Marianne will be pleased to see you again. But in the meantime, you’ve done well, Harriet.”
She smiled, but her emotions were in turmoil. London seemed miles away, in another country almost. It was difficult to hear Marianne’s name cross William’s lips. Marianne didn’t know anything about the man she would be marrying, how difficult he could be, or how brilliant and brave, and a pang of jealousy ran through her. Perhaps he considered Harriet more of a silly younger sister after all they’d been through. They shared an easy camaraderie and she had the impression he was genuinely fond of her, even after their disastrous encounter at the castle. But only now, with him standing so close to almost be touching her, did she realize the truth.
She had fallen in love.
* * * *
William took a seat inside the theater and tried to ignore Harriet’s father snoring away near the back. It was a shame the man had been unable to stay sober for even an afternoon. Harriet dominated the stage, marking the actors through each scene change, and he was again struck by her uncanny knack for making people do what she wanted them to, whether it was encouraging Toby to speak his lines faster (“we’re breathless to hear the full thought”) or Mrs. Kembler to hike up the neckline of her gown (“much more youthful, yes”).
It occurred to him she’d made him do her bidding as well, but before he could analyze such a disturbing notion further he was distracted by the entrance of the famous Mrs. Ivey. Although he’d never seen her perform, he could tell from her natural charm and beauty why she was so popular.
Harriet handled her carefully, he noted, and let Mrs. Ivey make most of the decisions as to where she should stand and when she would walk, then arranged the rest of the company around her. After an hour, Harriet called for a break and offered the woman a cup of tea. Together they made their way down the aisle, Harriet talking excitedly. William stood as they grew close to his row.
“My lord.” Harriet had returned to a more formal address, and her confidence seemed to drain away.
“Miss Farley.”
“Mrs. Ivey, may I present Lord Abingdon. My lord, Mrs. Ivey.”
William bowed lightly over the actress’s delicate hand.
“I don’t normally allow strangers to watch dress rehearsals, but an earl, and such a distinguished one. I’ll make an exception.”
William could have sworn she batted her eyelashes at him. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“I’m quite muddled at the moment, with all the fuss of working with a new company, but I do hope you’ll stop by my dressing room after the performance.”
Her forwardness surprised him. “You seem to be managing quite well, from what I could see.”
“I’m used to much larger stages, as in London. I have to remember to modulate my voice in such a small house.” She put a hand to her white throat and made a sensual purring noise.
William was speechless.
“Would you still like some tea. Mrs. Ivey?” Harriet asked pertly.
“Yes please, dear. I’ll wait here with his lordship. I’m sure we have many London friends in common.”
While Mrs. Ivey held court, William counted the moments until Harriet returned. The actress spoke at great length without needing him to answer or respond, and repeatedly touched his arm with her gloved hand. When Harriet finally returned with a cup of tea he tried to catch her eye, but she was stiff and cold toward him. She probably didn’t like the fact that he was holding up the rehearsal and distracting her leading lady, so he excused himself and went outside.
At the pub across the street, he ordered a lunch of bread, cheese, and pickle with a pint of ale and sat in a table near the back. He was enjoying the respite from London, from the shops and clubs where he was bound to run into someone he knew. Perhaps it was the afterglow of the afternoon’s triumph with Urswick, but he was happier than he’d been in years, although the past few days had been quite trying. He had surprised himself by bringing up Marianne’s name in conversation earlier, as she hadn’t come to mind since he’d left Poundridge. Then again, he’d put out fires, disarmed robbers and walked for miles on end, so maybe it wasn’t so odd for the woman he was supposed to marry to be far from his attentions.
Or had another woman encroached in her place? The evening on the turret with Harriet, he’d been driven by a desire he’d never experienced before, and being in such close proximity afterward had been both irritating and exhilarating. Strange.
He was glad he’d come, as he finally understood why Harriet was so stubborn about undertaking the journey. The theater company was a living thing, both an art form and a business, one that required careful management, someone in charge who could make difficult choices and follow through. Harriet’s father was a hopeless case. Freddie was the most obvious man to be the next in line to lead the Farley Players, and William figured he would carry on after he and Harriet returned to London.
He shifted uneasily in his chair. Why even concern himself with the hierarchy of the theater company? Instead of reflecting further, he opened the book of Shakespeare’s comedies he’d nicked from the theater lobby. At first, he analyzed the pages as if they were a medical text. But that grew tiring, so instead he let his eyes glide over the lines, and soon the rhythm of the poetry took over.
He was unsure how many hours had passed before he looked up. The bright afternoon light had softened, illuminating the façade of the theater with a warm glow. He hurried back to his hotel to change into evening dress and send a letter to London regarding his whereabouts. By the time he returned to the theater, a crowd had gathered outside. As he crossed the street, Adam almost barreled into him.
“Adam, what are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”
The older man was o
ut of breath. “Miss Farley asked me to try to find you. She needs your help fast.”
“Is her father giving her trouble?”
“No, it’s not that. He’s asleep backstage. It’s Mrs. Ivey.”
“What about her?”
“She went back to her rooms at the hotel to rest before the show. She was to be here a half-hour ago.”
“And she’s not?”
“She never returned. Our leading actress has disappeared.”
* * * *
The actors and crew were in an uproar. William spotted Miss Entwhistle hiding from him behind a rack of costumes but didn’t bother to investigate further. He followed the sound of Harriet’s voice and found her standing in the wings with Freddie.
“Has anyone checked the hotel?” Her normally rich, low tone quivered and she pressed her hands to either side of her head. “This can’t be.”
“I sent someone to find out,” answered Freddie.
“And why are we learning this now, when we have ten minutes before curtain?”
“I could have sworn she came into her dressing room an hour ago,” he said. “I didn’t think twice until Miss Entwhistle remarked her costume was still hanging with the others.”
“Oh Freddie, what will we do?”
William came forward. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Unless you can put on a wig and trick the audience into believing you’re Mrs. Ivey, we’re in deep trouble,” she said.
He considered mentioning that his spitting and turning hadn’t done much to alleviate the alleged curse, but thought better of it.
A puffy man came charging forward, almost knocking into them.
“Well? Where is she? Is it true Mrs. Ivey is not here?”
“I’m sure she’s on her way, Mr. Wilkinson,” said Harriet. “She was in fine form in rehearsal this afternoon.”
He pulled out his timepiece. “You have five minutes before that curtain rises. If I have to make the announcement Mrs. Ivey will not being playing the role of Rosalind tonight, you will have an angry mob on your hands. They’re not here to see the damn Farley Players. They’re here for a star.”