Two Hearts

by Barbara Miller

  “How dare you?” Wallace Montrose charged toward the stage like an enraged bull. Brand grabbed him by the neckcloth and halted his progress by dragging him off his feet. The fool had almost blundered on stage. Getting used to the backstage emergencies, the curtain boy helped Brand hold Wallace until they could bind him with a piece of rope. The gag had to be Wallace’s own neckcloth.

  The man looked somewhat surprised to find himself hogtied so efficiently but Brand was worried about Grace. He was two minutes late for his entrance and she and the maid were running out of sighs and extemporaneous dialogue. He needed to get on stage so Grace could dismiss the girl.

  Finally the actor playing Astly took the initiative to skip Richard’s line and make his entrance. How courageous, not knowing if they could knit the plot back together. He deserved a bonus for that.

  Just as he was about to make his entrance he heard a whizzing and something heavy slammed into his back, knocking him onto the stage into a heap at Grace’s feet. Brand thought a sandbag had let loose but when he rolled he discover Everson with a sword to his chest.

  Grace gasped, then said, “So, Lord de Coverly, Astly was working for you all along. I should have guessed it.”

  While Everson and also the actor playing Astly stared open-mouthed, Grace swallowed and spat out the lines she would have used if she were rewriting the play. “If only I had known you were behind this I would never have fallen for such a plot. You showed yourself to be a villain as soon as I came to London.”

  “What?” Everson asked.

  His moment of confusion when he realized he had not swooped down on just Brand but was in the middle of a play, gave Brand time to roll and leap to his feet. Then Everson had to answer Brand’s rush which sought to drive him off the stage. But having to defend himself refueled his anger and he began chopping away at Brand’s blade in very warlike fashion. Brand’s stage sword was dulled on the edges and blunted on the tip while Everson was hacking away with his all too real military saber. Brand was hard put to defend himself but the audience was wild with cheering.

  Brand tried to lead the fight away from Grace, terrified that she might be wounded in the mêlée. He fell over the bench and turned that accident into a somersault to come up on his knees just in time to block a neck blow. His sword shattered but at least he now had a sharp weapon, even though it wasn’t much bigger than a dagger.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Grace in a mock struggle with the actor. Then she threw Brand the other stage sword. He caught it as though he did this sort of thing every day. Well it was something to block the blows with. He could smell the brandy on Everson’s breath and guessed the man had been drinking through the night and this was his last desperate attempt to get himself a rich wife before he was discredited entirely.

  It suddenly occurred to him that Everson was using his right arm most efficiently even for a drunk. It had never been wounded at all. And Everson was not in costume but his own military uniform. Brand would have loved to witness the look on Lady Charlton’s face.

  Finally when Brand was pinned against the fake arbor and in danger of overturning it, Grace took a hand and hit Everson on the back of the neck with the spine of her book. Brand popped him on the jaw with his sword hilt for good measure.

  “Shakespeare,” she said, holding up the volume triumphantly to the audience. “An author of many parts.”

  Brand laughed and kissed her hand. “Astly, get you gone with that knave of an employer. Quickly drag him away.”

  To do him credit, the actor took the hint, picked up Everson’s ankles and pulled him backstage.

  Brand threw down the weapons with a clatter and embraced Grace.

  “Why did you not tell me from the first?” she asked as she looked worshipfully up at him, struggling to meld the recent disaster with the rehearsed script.

  “Would you have believed me?”

  “Perhaps not. You kept so many secrets from me I distrusted my own mind about you, thought my very love for you was a betrayal of my senses.”

  “The most valuable lessons are the hardest won. I should have had more faith in you.”

  They swung into the final lines without missing a beat and ended with a kiss that must have been convincing. It certainly convinced Brand.

  Here they were with three unconscious people backstage, a theater to run and they had just ruined themselves in the eyes of society but he did not care. As they bowed to the applause he kissed Grace’s hand and then her lips again. The clapping became louder as the other actors, those who could walk, reentered the stage for their curtain calls. Remarkably Carstairs was on his feet, supported by Dame Devlin in her fanciest dressing gown. Brand and Grace exited while the others of the company enjoyed the applause. They had earned it as well for their quick thinking but he could imagine the cheering meant approval of his words, his kiss, his love for this remarkable woman.

  Chapter Nineteen

  They discovered Everson had been most efficiently tied up by Gavin, and Lake was in the wings with a pencil and paper in his hands. Grace removed the annoying wig and shook out her own hair which had come undone. Even if she was recognized she did not care because Brand loved her.

  “Splendid,” Brand said, “did you take down all those lines?”

  “Yes, all the new ones. We shall have to include them in tomorrow’s performance.”

  Grace smiled. “Along with a cameo of de Coverly in Act One. Oh, dear, where shall we get yet another actor on such short notice?”

  “Me!” Robin said. “I have been practicing stage fighting.”

  Brand groaned. “Not now, Robin. Go hide somewhere.”

  “That’s not our only problem,” Lake said. “That runner is here to see you. I told him to wait in the office. Shall I send a boy to the barracks across Hyde Park to tell them to come and get Everson?”

  “They know nothing about him because he’s not a solder,” Gavin said. “He’s an imposter. His name is on none of the army rolls.”

  “But why?” Brand said rubbing his forehead. Even Thomas looked surprised at this.

  “Because he is an actor and hiding behind the uniform made him safer than any other disguise,” Grace replied.

  “How do you know this, Grace?” Brand looked toward Everson who had regained consciousness but was still prone.

  “Only a witch could know such a thing,” Everson spat out. His dark hair brushed his forehead as he struggled to his knees. Yes, he was handsome but a rogue all the same.

  “My suspicions were aroused when you quoted some lines to me. They were from a play called the Talebearers that was performed last year at Sadler’s Wells. I found the script in Mr. Stone’s office. I assume the trunk of scripts was one of the things Stone stole when he abandoned you, his partner and split from Sadler’s Wells. He must have changed his name as you did.”

  “I did not kill him,” the man enunciated. “He promised to pay me what he owed. Now he’s gone and I have nothing.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t kill Stone,” Brand said.

  Grace stared at Brand. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because Stone killed Stone.”

  “So there you are,” Dahlia said. “I am very much interested in where my son has got to.”

  “Robin? He’s around somewhere.”

  Dahlia followed his gaze around the backstage area, taking in the prone and struggling Wallace as well as the kneeling soldier.

  Ellen appeared around the side of the curtain and went straight to Grace. “My dear, I am so sorry.”

  “And I am sorry I had to trouble you.”

  “Where is Wallace?”

  A muffled exclamation drew her notice to his bound form.

  Ellen stifled a giggle then became stern again. “If we release you do you agree to get in the carriage I have outside and return home with me?”

  Wallace nodded vigorously so Brand took the jagged sword and went to cut him free.

  “I hope are you ready to be reasonable,�
�� Brand said.

  Wallace growled inside his gag. Grace went to remove it.

  “You have ruined my sister, ruined her, I say.”

  “No, I did that myself,” Grace said. “But I would not change any of it.”

  “You cannot mean to stay with this man in this theater.”

  “Wallace, you agreed. Shut your mouth and get in the carriage.”

  “But I have to return to the house for my things.”

  “No, I am taking you directly home. There will be no more annoying Grace and her servants.”

  To Grace’s surprise Wallace went meekly out the rear door, still complaining but he did go.

  “What do you think, Grace?” Brand asked. “I have a mind to put William Marlowe in charge of the theater.”

  “Really?” Lake asked.

  “What do you say, Marlowe?”

  “I think I would love the chance to direct as well as write.”

  “But we are still an actor short,” Grace said, “since we have added de Coverly.”

  “I can learn that many lines overnight,” Lake said. “Just please do not improvise anymore.” Lake folded the paper and put it in his coat pocket, then smiled at his brother.

  “But Brand,” Dahlia said, trying to bring her brother back to the point. “This is worse than her supplying the costuming and sets. How can you stand there with her after what you’ve found out. She’s a common actress.”

  “I find her to be an uncommon actress. She has far more poise than you at any rate.”

  “After this night she is ruined. She will never be accepted in the ton.”

  “Then neither will I, for I intend to make Miss Montrose my wife if she will have me.

  “And she taught me how to project,” Robin’s voice said from the wings.

  “How can you even consider it? Why I—” suddenly Dahlia turned pale and clutched Brand’s arm. He looked up to see his nephew grasping the edge of a curtain with one hand while the other covered a growing bloodstain on the front of his white shirt.

  Grace gasped and ran to Robin as he slowly fell to the stage and flung his head back as though in his death throes.

  Brand laughed and Dahlia fainted in his arms.

  Grace was just glaring at Brand when Robin moved under her hands and began to giggle.

  “A bladder of pig’s blood,” Thomas said. “I’ll wager he used that old stage trick though it was ill done of him if he wants his mother’s good will.” Thomas strode toward Brand and held some smelling salts under Dahlia’s nose.

  “Don’t you see?” Robin said, struggling to his feet. “This is how Stone did it.”

  Grace was still kneeling on the stage, her handkerchief covered in blood that looked human enough to her.

  “The lad is right,” said a short man who came down the last of the steps and pulled a notebook out of his waistcoat pocket.” His accent reminded her of Stone’s though it was more refined. His gray hair and brushlike mustache made him seem businesslike and trustworthy.

  “Who are you?” Grace asked.

  “John Ryder from Bow Street.”

  “I hired him to look into the disappearance of our man Stone,” Brand added.

  Dahlia struggled to a sitting position and Robin flung off his coat and bloody shirt. “See, I’m not hurt.”

  “You shall be the death of me, child.”

  Grace looked from one to the other of them. “Stone isn’t dead?”

  “No,” Brand said.

  Everson spit out an oath. “Damn his soul to hell.”

  Brand smiled at the still-bound man who struggled to his feet. “As both Gavin and Thomas knew no man has more than seven or eight pints of blood in his whole body. Stone, in an overly theatrical burst of enthusiasm, faked his own death too well. He’s the one who made off with the day’s takings, the rest of the money I had given him and the money you had given him, Grace.”

  “Oh,” Grace said, getting to her feet and coming to stand beside Brand. “I was supporting the plays and so were you. That’s why he never wanted us to meet.” Grace glanced at Brand, then at Lake.

  “Yes, and since he didn’t pay anyone for weeks before he left he escaped with quite a nest egg,” Lake said.

  “And some of that money was owed to me,” Everson said bitterly.

  “That’s right,” the runner added. “I’ve tracked Stone as far as Brussels. Small chance of getting your money back, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, Grace?” Brand looked at her with a wry smile.

  “Oh, let him go. You have William Marlowe to manage the theater now. It will be Stone’s loss and his fault for not trusting us. The Pantheon will be great.”

  “So who is this bloke and why is he tied up?” the runner demanded.

  Brand walked toward Everson with the broken saber and Grace had the satisfaction of seeing the fake soldier flinch as Brand cut his bonds. She was sure the look of puzzlement on Everson’s face matched her own.

  “A suspect merely. You see we were assuming Stone’s only motive for scampering off was profit. Actually he was escaping a creditor who is now at liberty to pursue him if he wishes.”

  “Do you mean this?” Everson asked.

  “Grace?” Brand looked toward her.

  “We cannot vanquish all the rogues at once. What would heroes have to do then? Let him go.”

  “But I will need money to get to Brussels.”

  Brand rolled his eyes heavenward, then took out his billfold and handed Everson his passage money. “Do not return to England.”

  “No chance of that. Sorry, Grace.” And he left, turning on his heel and only stooping to pick up his saber before he went out the stage door.

  “I think my job here is done,” the runner said.

  “Yes, I shall write you a check now if you present your bill.”

  Dahlia finally thrust the vinaigrette aside. “Well! If that isn’t the outside of enough, corrupting my son. What were you doing at the theater anyway, Robin?”

  “Uncle Brand brought me.”

  “Brandon White, how could you?”

  “Dahlia, you would do well to stop right there. You have said far too much already.”

  “I have not said nearly enough. Your association with the theater is one thing but to expose my son to actors?”

  “Probably taught him more in a week than he learned at school in a year,” Brand mumbled.

  “May I say something?” Grace asked.

  “No,” sister and brother said in unison.

  “You take no interest in my children for years on end and now this,” Dahlia accused. “What were you thinking?”

  “I stopped living at Morewood Hall and left your children alone because your husband warned me away. He too, thought I was a bad influence. Indeed perhaps I was in those days.”

  “He what?” Dahlia stared at him. “My husband warned you away from your own house?”

  “You didn’t know? He said neither of you wanted me around the children.”

  “I had no idea. I am sorry. I thought it was you, that you had lost interest in them.”

  Grace smiled. “I think you two should have talked a long time ago.”

  Dahlia still glared at her. “Well, we can do without your opinion though I suppose Robin has taken no harm from being here.”

  “Oh, Dahlia, let the boy finish school before you try to decide his whole future,” Brand said. “If not you will drive him away just as you did me.”

  “If you intend to marry Miss Montrose, we will move out of Morewood Hall.”

  “Not on my account,” Grace said. “I am used to living in a house full of children.”

  “What?” Dahlia asked.

  Brand patted his sister’s hand. “I’ll explain it all later.”

  Dahlia went with Robin who winked at Grace. She turned to Brand. “The play is done and one by one the actors leave the stage. It has a finality about it.”

  “You never answered me. Will you marry me?”

  Grace put her a
rms around him. “As you are well aware I detest managing men.”

  “I give everything into your capable hands.”

  “You’ll let me continue to help with the costumes and set design?”

  “Oh, I hope so,” Brand said as he embraced her.

  “I don’t see how we could do without her,” Lake agreed. “We will leave you two.”

  Maria went away with Lake, his brother and Thomas. The rest of the actors had changed by now and were drifting out the side door, happy at finally being paid and having a future.

  “And will you let me rehearse with you?” Grace asked.

  “I am counting on it, especially the love scenes.” He kissed her forehead.

  “And help you with the plays, as well?”

  “My plays?” Brand looked at her in what she surmised to be mock alarm.

  “Oh, only a line or two.”

  “Like today you mean?”

  “No, not like today. I hope we never have another day like today, but in the quiet firelight of your library will you consult with me?” she insisted.

  “I shall do much more than consult though I have a feeling it will take longer to write anything with your help.”

  “You know what I mean.” She leaned against his chest with a sigh. “Will you be advised by me?”

  “I shall be ruled by you and give my neck gladly to the noose.” He turned her face up to look at him.

  “Then I will marry you,” she agreed.

  His lips met hers and she tasted a sweetness, not just victory and success but trust and love, devotion and years of contentment. For their only arguments would be over lines of dialogue or beats in a verse. In love their two hearts would be in perfect accord.

  Chapter Twenty

  The fog lay thick on the ground the next morning when Brand came for her. It was the sort of day that led her to those romantic musings she liked so well, a day where anything seemed possible until the fog lifted. His nephew was not with him but one of Brand’s grooms offered to lead Lightning.