Unexpected Friends & Relations

by Jayne Bamber

  Sir Gerald was the first to be brought around to the idea. “Do you not recall,” he reminded his wife, “how well our Harriet play-acted when it was just the three of us at home? I am sure it will be an innocent diversion for her, provided she not take on any romantic part.” To a small role she was relegated – to one of the fairies, whose only part might be to follow Queen Titania around, and share no lines with any gentlemen. She would have faerie wings and flowers in her hair – Harriet was satisfied with this concession. She was marked down as Mustardseed, for Mr. Willoughby had most ardently taken up Mr. Crawford’s cause, and might now be seen as the very author of the whole plan; he began to oversee the assignment of every other part, and transcribed every detail of it into a small notebook he produced from his coat pocket.

  There were some roles more desirable than others, a great demand to play the principal characters, particularly those of a romantic nature, and several minutes of cheerful, noisy chaos ensued before Mr. Crawford and Mr. Willoughby could call them all to order – Lady Catherine observed that she felt as though she were at the theatre already.

  Paper and pen were produced, names thrown into a hat, and selected at random as each character was called out. The results were considered, and after a few amicable adjustments made, and several trades refused, Mr. Willoughby transcribed the final casting in a very elegant hand:

  Helena – L. Bennet

  Hermia – G. Darcy

  Demetrius – H. Audley

  Lysander – J. Willoughby

  Oberon – F. Wentworth

  Titania – C. Sutton

  Puck – H. Crawford

  Duke Theseus – H. Tilney

  Bottom, the Ass – J. Rushworth

  Harriet felt no little sympathy for poor Mr. Rushworth, who was much dismayed at playing the Ass, and could not convince any of the other gentlemen to exchange characters with him. Sam, Mr. Middleton, and Mr. Fitzwilliam agreed to assist him in the play within the play, as their wives likewise agreed to join Harriet in playing the fairies.

  It was resolved that Mr. Willoughby and Mr. Crawford would ride to Rochester on the morrow, braving every possibility of rain, and procure sufficient copies of the play as to allow them to properly rehearse, and their performance should be made a fortnight hence. Kate declared she would begin the painting of an enchanted forest backdrop at once, and Sam volunteered the services of his wife, who had stayed home at Cranbrook, to engage in a thorough searching of their attics as to locate some old gowns and pantaloons that might be converted into proper costumes, if the same might be embarked upon at Rosings, an endeavor that was instantly to be undertaken with no little amusement, and consumed the remainder of their day.

  ***

  Caroline had certainly not expected such a turn of events to unfold at Rosings, but was nonetheless delighted. She was not entirely sure that it was quite right for Lydia to be play-acting while under her care, but if Mr. Darcy’s own sister was to do so, surely there could be no harm in it, and even Lady Catherine was brought around to approving of the idea. That Caroline herself should act was more dubious. She began to protest that she would not, for though she dearly wished to, and thought she would do a fine job of it, she began to fear it would draw the wrong sort of notice from her in-laws.

  Much as she begged off, her entreaties did no good – the four faeries must be played by Harriet, Cecily, Kate, and Emily. Harriet had already been denied permission to take a larger part; Kate had not the time to learn so many lines as one of the principal actors if she was to make the backdrop; Emily, being a new mother, had not the time either, and Cecily simply refused to take a larger role, certain that she would do it no justice whatsoever – Caroline, she insisted, would be the superior performer.

  Privately, Caroline was inclined to agree – such a scheme was just the thing to please her, and were it not for her determination to mind her reputation in the presence of her husband’s family, she might have been perfectly content. Bearing in mind that they were present, she felt she ought not to keep the role of Helena for herself, and insisted that Lydia make an exchange with her, allowing her to play Titania the Faerie Queen. When Georgiana kindly leaned in to whisper to Lydia how and why this should be infinitely superior, Lydia instantly agreed to the exchange, and Caroline was satisfied that at least she had done something to preserve her dignity.

  Georgiana and Lydia were to play Hermia and Helena, Mr. Audley was happy to take on the role of Demetrius, but when Mr. Wentworth drew Lysander, he applied to Mr. Willoughby to make an exchange, for he would much rather be Oberon – and here he gave Caroline a great many significant looks – and Mr. Willoughby likewise declared that such an exchange suited his purposes very well indeed.

  Vexing man! Though it had been several days since last she had seen Captain Wentworth – not since the ball, when she had drank rather too much wine, and actually danced twice with the impertinent man – he had been much on her mind since then, and she could not like it.

  He seemed fully aware of inspiring such exasperation in her, and even seemed to take delight in it. He was determined to attach himself to her as they all made their way up into the attic in search of anything that might serve as either prop or costume for their theatrical.

  Lady Catherine, who had been so opposed to the plan, and yet so thoroughly brought over to the young people’s cause by her husband, had now taken charge completely. She oversaw their searching of the attic, directing the gentlemen to lift and move a great many old trunks about, which were then rifled through with glee by nearly everyone, and there was an extended period of absolute chaos as the aspiring players began to search for all the best costumes for themselves.

  “Are we to dress in the Greek style, in togas,” Sam inquired of his father.

  Sir Gerald, who had resolved that he must play Egeus, and appear in the first and final acts, was determined that he should have a robe, very fine robe. As he sputtered some reply to his son, Mr. Tilney interjected. “Togas may serve well to set the scene,” said he, “though I think for the ladies’ sake we had better keep our breeches on beneath! Let it not be said that the proprieties were not observed.”

  Here Captain Wentworth addressed Caroline privately. “Oh yes, let every propriety be observed, my queen. Let us find you a gown fit for fae royalty! You must be in very fine looks, you know, if I am to make love to you.”

  As he crouched down beside her to rummage through one of the trunks, Caroline gave him a shove with her shoulder. “I see what you are about, sir,” said she, “but before you begin to congratulate yourself, you must recall that Queen Titania makes love not to King Oberon, but to the Ass.”

  “Then there should be very little acting in it for you, given your history,” he replied. Caroline blanched and looked away. What could he know of her husband? “Poor Mr. Rushworth,” he whispered, not yet ready to abandon his scheme to vex her. “He has not the wit, I fear, to realize his own good fortune. He will lament that he is to play the Ass, yet he shall be the lucky recipient of the Faerie Queen’s most ardent admiration. Lucky man indeed!”

  Caroline gave a great huff of frustration, when an idea occurred to her which might provide her some means of thwarting his perverse determination to recommend himself to her. Turning to Kate, who was examining another trunk nearby, she said, “Your sister, Miss Mary, is to come to us ere long, is she not? Certainly she must feel rather left out, for we shall all be rehearsing a play that she has no part in! What if I were to be a mere understudy in my role, and give it over to her entirely when she comes amongst us?”

  Kate set down the tremendous armful of old clothing she had been looking through, and turned to reply to Caroline. “It is very kind of you to offer, though I am sure it must be a week at least before she is to arrive – we should be halfway through our preparations by then, and she will not have very much time to learn her lines. Mr. Tilney was saying that she may take the part of Hippolyta, bride of Theseus, who shall only appear in the first and last acts of
the play. In truth, I do not know if Mary is the sort of person who would enjoy play-acting at all, though certainly she may be importuned to do so. It is generous of you, but I think you had better learn the lines and practice with us all for now, for if Mary does refuse the part, the whole theatrical would fall apart without a queen!”

  “Indeed,” Wentworth agreed. “You must take every opportunity to rehearse your lines – every scene must be practiced diligently, for yours is a vital role. Without the queen of the fairies and her obstinacy, there is no trick for our Puck to play, nor motivation for Oberon to act.”

  “Oh yes, you must act,” Sir Gerald agreed as he moved that way. “If Miss Bennet comes amongst us, it is quite decided that she shall be the Hippolyta to Mr. Tilney’s Theseus. We shall not have you relinquish your role for all the world! It is just the thing to lure my son Seymour home at last, you see – I shall write to him directly, certainly I shall, and inform him of our little theatrical. I am sure that if I write first thing on the morrow, it will certainly arrive in Scotland in time for him to return before the performance. I can think of nothing finer for him, upon his return, than to see you, crowned queen of the fae, and welcoming him home!”

  At this, Sam and Mr. Middleton exchanged a most curious look, glancing rudely in her direction, and Captain Wentworth very nearly dropped the antique sword he was examining. Caroline abruptly walked away to mask her mortification. That Seymour should return to them was the last thing she could wish for, and unlikely anyhow, unless he were to so fully recover his mental faculties as to demand his own release from the facility she had installed him in. No, there was little use worrying over it, for it was unlikely to occur, and so long as she pushed his memory from her mind, she was perfectly content. Not so content that she should wish to receive the enticing addresses of Captain Wentworth – she was not a fool – but sanguine enough to really enjoy the rest of her new family. Should Seymour actually regain his self-possession and return, everything would be ruined.

  True, his presence might forestall the advances of Captain Wentworth, whose very presence was becoming an increasing temptation for her, but beyond that she could not like the idea. Her husband was such an odious man; she really could not bear the sight of him. Even being in the same room as Seymour had only ever been unbearable in the extreme. His company only served to remind her of all that she had lost in her attempt to capture a suitable husband, and despite all the bitter regret she now felt at her ploy to entrap Lord Hartley, her sham of a marriage seemed far too severe a punishment for her crime. The man had practically assaulted her, attempting to force himself on her when he had happened upon her in the Banfields’ gallery that night, and rather congratulated himself on Caroline being forced to marry him, though they were virtually strangers.

  The very recollection of the night of their betrothal could not but cause her distress. Seymour had ignored her alarm, her disgust with him, with eyes only for her fortune, and for the parts of her he had presumed to lay his hands upon. Even Sir Gerald delighted in the match, and had mistook her resistance to the betrothal as a sort of delicate female modesty, not the abject revulsion it had truly been. How he could treat her with such civility, seeming to believe her pleased by the outcome of that fiasco, when she had protested so boldly, Caroline could not account for. And yet, such was his nature – he was a convivial man, open and affable, but perhaps not intelligent enough to understand what Caroline had suffered that night, or what she felt even now.

  Indeed, all of Seymour’s family here in Kent were so very pleasant – his brother Sam everything a gentleman ought to be, though he was rather brown, and his sister Cecily so warm and welcoming. Even Harriet was an angel! Every design Caroline had formed in her mind to recommend herself to the girl was unnecessary, for Harriet required only the slightest degree of kindness to approve of anyone; she had even forgiven Lydia her previous hostility.

  Caroline knew she walked a dangerous line with such a family. As much as she wished to deserve their regard, to enjoy the kind and easy manners of a family so infinitely superior to the one she had been born into, she knew it could not last. If Seymour did return to Cranbrook, a slim possibility indeed, he would surely speak as unkindly of her to his family as he had ever done to her face, in the months they spent together in Scotland, when he had disparaged her in very rough language for her refusal to take him to her bed. Else, he would simply die, which was certainly what she wished, but once free of him she would lose all claim to a connection to the Suttons, and the notion began to pain her. It was an impossible situation, and even now, every day of their kindness she enjoyed was predicated upon a lie, and one that had begun with her own wicked intentions in September.

  How Captain Wentworth figured into all this, she had spent many days considering, to little end. Though she was not aware of any prior acquaintance between the man and her husband, she had wondered at times if perhaps they had been friends; perhaps Wentworth was even her husband’s spy. His advances may be some sort of trick, trying to catch her about some mischief that would give Seymour grounds for a divorce, were he to survive his present ordeal. Or perhaps Seymour’s brother Sam was not the kindly man he seemed to be, and had engaged Captain Wentworth to seduce her, so that her fortune might remain within their family once she had been cast off.

  She could think of no other reason why such a reasonable man as he, new money but still quite wealthy, and handsome besides, should choose to pay his addresses to herself, a married lady with a blemished reputation, and origins in trade no less, when there were such eligible maidens amongst them. He might have chosen to woo Harriet or Georgiana with no little success, or even Lydia, and yet he was determined to single her out. What could he possibly expect from her?

  The worst of it was, that were she at liberty to make such a choice, Captain Wentworth was such a man that might actually tempt her. She watched him at some remove from the others, as her friends gleefully rifled through the trunks in the attic. Everything about Captain Wentworth was infinitely superior, in Caroline’s mind. The way he lifted so many heavy trunks with such ease, and the ripple of his muscles as he did so, the way he smiled and laughed with everyone, and even the way he was always staring at her with such an intense power in his eyes – to play Titania to his Oberon really began to seem like a treacherous thing indeed, and Caroline knew she would have to be careful. With any luck, Mary Bennet would take the part from her, for if she was not given some respite from this dangerous game, she may yet fall prey to the worst sort of mischief.

  ***

  Georgiana was to be deprived of a whole day of Mr. Willoughby’s company, for he had ridden at first light to Rochester with Robert and Mr. Crawford to procure as many copies of the play as could be found in all the bookshops there, and paint for Kate’s backdrop. In their absence, Rosings had become a bustle of activity. Their plans were laid out over breakfast, with the residents of Cranbrook and the dower house joining them before they had finished their repast.

  Georgiana was beyond astonished at Lady Catherine’s approval of their scheme, and sudden determination that the thing, if to be attempted at all, must be done to perfection. Georgiana could only surmise that it was the influence of her husband, and that finally enjoying the long-overdue reward of a happy marriage and reunion with her daughter had softened her Aunt Catherine beyond what Georgiana had ever imagined possible.

  After they had all eaten, their endeavor began in earnest. The drawing room was unrecognizable a few hours later. It was a large room – nearly as spacious as the entire ground floor of the dower house – it would suit their purposes exactly. Lady Catherine was directing the rearrangement of all of the furniture, most of which had been cleared away to make room for a stage on one side. A curtain was to be hung to give it the proper look of a stage, beyond which Kate’s backdrop would be hung once she had completed it. Kate insisted that she could not paint the thing while it was already hung upright, and so the old tapestry she had uncovered in the attic was lai
d out on a table where the stage was to be, that she could work without straining her condition, once Robert returned with her supplies – Mrs. Crawford would assist her as needed.

  Beyond this area, the doors that led into the music room had been propped open, for this was to be an out-of-sight staging area into which the players might retreat after they had appeared in their given scenes. Sir Gerald had appointed himself the master of props, and was even to play the role of Hermia’s father, a notion which amused Georgiana enormously, for Sir Gerald was such an affable man, and seemed immensely amused by the notion of playing a very stern sort of fellow indeed. His son Sam and son-in-law Mr. Middleton both followed him about as they began to organize the various props they had assembled in the music room – swords for the fight between Demetrius and Lysander, and various items that were deemed necessary for the play-within-a-play.

  As the rehearsals would begin the following day in earnest, once they had scripts enough amongst them to accomplish it, everything else that could be achieved today was to be embarked upon at once, and sixteen highly motivated people filled the upper floor of Rosings Park with all the noise of their high spirits and activity as they set about the various tasks of preparing for the theatrical.