Unexpected Friends & Relations

by Jayne Bamber

  Kate had enough paint that she and Mrs. Crawford might begin to mark out the foundation of her forest scene for their backdrop, even as she resisted Mr. Crawford’s frequent reminders that she was to be the only person without a part, and must give some consideration to donning a pair of breeches and playing one of the mechanicals for the play-within-a-play, as they had nobody yet to play Robin Starveling, who must hang the moon.

  As Mrs. Crawford laughed away his every entreaty, she set about her work painting with Kate, while Cecily and Emily made themselves comfortable in the workspace across the room to begin making some adjustments to the garments they had found to serve as costumes. Mr. Audley and Lydia had absconded with the only copy of the play to be found yet at Rosings, and were determined to begin their rehearsals at once. Georgiana suspected they must be up to some manner of mischief, and said as much to Mrs. Sutton as the two of them occupied themselves in arranging the garlands Emily Sutton had brought over from Cranbrook, which had been used during the ball, and were now to be made into flower crowns for the faeries and various shrubs and stage pieces. Caroline shrugged it off, owning that she was simply relieved that Lydia had some occupation at all.

  “Playing at Shakespeare is very close to studying literature, you know,” Mrs. Sutton observed to Georgiana. “This must be some substitute for all the lessons you and she will be missing out on, these next two weeks. Have you written to Lizzy and Mr. Darcy to tell them of our endeavor here?”

  Georgiana grew rather embarrassed – she had not done so, and certainly had no intention of it. “Perhaps I really ought to,” she said carefully, “but I should not wish to cause anyone any distress.”

  “I see what you mean,” Mrs. Sutton replied. “Were your brother to learn of our little scheme, and disapprove of it, even insist you not participate, or that such an undertaking not be made at all – you fear the others would hold it against you.”

  Lizzy might have approved of the notion, had she been present – certainly she could have been swayed, if it was possible for Aunt Catherine. That her brother would thoroughly disapprove of the entire plan was an absolute certainty, and though Georgiana felt rather wrong about hesitating to inform him, she recalled that he had agreed that she would do well enough in Kent under her aunt’s supervision, and therefore her aunt’s approval must be all the permission she needed to thoroughly enjoy herself. “Lady Catherine sees no harm in it,” Georgiana said shyly.

  “I do take your meaning,” Mrs. Sutton said with a knowing look. “I had thought that perhaps I better warn your sister Lizzy what we are about, but I am sure she must be busy with a great many other concerns, and after all, if Lady Catherine is to keep such a watchful eye over all of us, there can be no mischief in our little scheme.”

  Georgiana smiled gratefully at her. “That is just what I had thought, Mrs. Sutton.”

  “Oh, do call me Caroline,” said she. “Perhaps it will be a great secret between us, this little theatrical. We may be just a little bit naughty for enjoying ourselves so very much, but really, I believe that the enjoyment must offset every other consideration, and we are all practically family here.”

  Now thinking herself completely absolved of any regrets, Georgiana grinned at Caroline as they continued arranging the flower crowns together, feeling a sudden kinship with the woman who had, for so long, only intimidated her.

  “Do you think your husband will come and see our play? I am sure there must be time for a letter to reach him in Scotland, and for him to journey down to Kent – he might arrive just before the play, but certainly in time for it.”

  Caroline’s pleasant smile faltered, and Georgiana began to fear she had said the wrong thing – of course she must have upset poor Caroline, who must have been wondering for many weeks why her husband would not join her at his family home!

  Caroline was spared having to make any response to Georgiana’s impertinent question, for there was a great burst of laughter across the room that drew their attention. Harriet, Mr. Rushworth, and Captain Wentworth were engaged in a rather comedic struggle at pulling apart some fur that had lined the cape Sir Gerald was to wear in his role as Egeus. They meant to make the fur into the donkey-head, but were doing a rather poor job of it, and now they began to display their progress for all their friends to ridicule with them.

  “Dreadful indeed,” Caroline laughed. “Truly abysmal work!”

  Georgiana leaned against Caroline’s shoulder to contain her own giggles. “It looks rather like a dog, maybe a bear?”

  Lady Catherine bustled forward to inspect their work, and grimaced at them. “Have any of you even seen a jackass? I speak to the species of donkey, to be clear – otherwise I am sure some of you might only need look in a mirror.”

  They all beheld her with no little trepidation for a moment, before Lady Catherine was the first to laugh at her own joke, and the others hesitantly joined her.

  “Truly,” Caroline said, “it is quite terrible. You must make the snout a little larger I think, and the ears must be longer.”

  “I shall find a book directly,” Mr. Rushworth declared. “We must have a picture to work from!”

  “I am sure we have seen an ass before, James,” Mr. Wentworth quipped, inciting a great deal more laughter, as Lady Catherine harrumphed and scowled before moving away.

  Into such a bustle of activity the absent gentlemen returned, just in time for dinner. They all ate rather later than was their custom, for Mr. Willoughby and Mr. Crawford would first make a great show of displaying their success in Rochester – they had thought to seek out as many bookshops as they could find, when one of the shopkeepers happily informed them that a little theater in Rochester of no reputation had once put on the play there, and Mr. Willoughby was struck by a moment of genius – he decided that they must appeal to the theater directly, and in doing so they were given enough copies of the script that everyone might have their own, as well as a few of the costumes purchased at an easy price. Faerie wings enough for everybody who required them were displayed and marveled at, and a proper ass-head produced and displayed alongside the one they had tried to make themselves, inspiring comical eloquence from Mr. Willoughby and Mr. Crawford.

  They were all delighted by one another once their party was made complete; compliments given on either side by those who had ventured to Rochester and those who had begun the preparations at Rosings, and Mr. Willoughby made a particular point of hinting to Georgiana, to her immense pleasure, that the success of their theatrical must be a compliment to her above all others, for she and himself were to play the principal lovers.

  His attentions to her continued throughout dinner, which was a rather casual affair despite their large number, and consisted chiefly of conversation pertaining to the theatrical. Being now in possession of enough scripts to allow them all to learn their lines – Mr. Rushworth had already made his own calculations, and declared that he should have seven and fifty speeches, no small thing – Georgiana felt eager to begin the rehearsing.

  That Mr. Willoughby was to play opposite her, as the object of her affection on stage, as well as, in increasing measures over the last week, in reality, thrilled her. That he had even exchanged roles with Captain Wentworth to achieve it was all the more flattering to Georgiana, for she liked him a great deal, and relished the notion of being able to give voice to so many tender sentiments under the guise of play-acting; she knew not how else she might express her increasing attachment to the gentleman.

  19

  Rosings Park, Kent, April

  The next week was naught but rehearsals from breakfast through dinner, and well into the evening besides. For all the thoughts of young lovers, Caroline was quite content – Georgiana was clearly besotted with the handsome Mr. Willoughby, and as she and Caroline had been growing closer since the beginning of the theatrical, Caroline felt she had some right to be pleased on Georgiana’s behalf. He was a fine man, in looks and address, and certainly his fortune and property were such that the Darcys cou
ld not possibly disapprove of him, should things grow more serious.

  Lydia and Henry Audley were likewise showing all the symptoms of a budding attachment. Lydia bristled at Caroline’s every attempt to supervise their rehearsals together, and Caroline was obliged to relent, for certainly Georgiana and Mr. Willoughby were so often sharing a scene with Lydia and Mr. Audley that there would be little opportunity for any impropriety. Perhaps a very little, but if it was enough to secure his regard for Lydia, Caroline must be obliged to allow it. She could think of nobody but Mr. Audley who could take such a fancy to Lydia as she now was, and was very often wondering if the girl would ever really show signs of enough improvement to do any better than he.

  Caroline was careful to spend as much time as she was able in assisting the other ladies in the preparation of costumes and stage decor, and there was a great deal of work to be done on both of those fronts. The remainder of her time she attempted to occupy in practicing with Mr. Rushworth and the fairies. It was an easily accomplished ruse, and she was quite able to thwart Captain Wentworth’s every attempt to rehearse with her, for Mr. Rushworth’s lamentations over his seven-and-fifty speeches – and some of them very lengthy indeed – were repeated with no little frequency.

  Poor Mr. Rushworth! With some chagrin, Caroline began to wonder if the discomfort Mr. Rushworth felt in receiving the addresses of Queen Titania was anything compared to the mortification she experienced at receiving the same from Captain Wentworth. At least in Mr. Rushworth’s case, he had Harriet always so readily at hand to assure him of his fine progress in playing his role and learning his lines. For Caroline, there could be no comfort, for what she was feeling must only be concealed.

  She was not able to forestall Captain Wentworth forever, for no sooner had Mary Bennet arrived at the house than she had been importuned to either take on the role of Titania, or Hippolyta; Miss Bennet refused both, and expressed no little dismay at their mode of entertainment.

  For a brief space of time, there was some uncertainty amidst their assembled party, brought about by Miss Bennet’s adverse reaction to the theatrical. Caroline and Georgiana exchanged a glance conveying no little concern that Miss Bennet might yet send some word of their activities to the Darcys – Lydia’s thoughts on her sister’s refusal to participate were expressed in such hard language that Caroline was moved to reproach her, and in the end it was Lady Catherine who convinced Miss Bennet that she must at least help them with the costumes, as it had been very kind of Kate to invite her to Rosings at all.

  No sooner had Miss Bennet begun to show some little enjoyment in their enterprise, than Caroline’s own enjoyment of it was to be threatened by the anxiety that must come with Captain Wentworth’s desire to rehearse with her. “Mrs. Sutton, we must rehearse act two, scene one, and act four, scene one,” he said, approaching her with his script in hand.

  She preferred to remain in the drawing room, but really there was such a raucous noise about them that she knew it would be of little benefit if they could not hear one another. The learning of her speeches must be the primary purpose of rehearsing for her, though it seemed a secondary one for Captain Wentworth. That he wished to get her alone was evident, but that it was necessary, Caroline was obliged to acknowledge.

  She and Captain Wentworth moved into the library, which was near enough the drawing room that they might not be considered so very alone, and the din of their fellow play-actors was distant enough that they might speak at a reasonable volume and be understood to one another. Caroline turned to the appropriate page in her script, relieved to find that she had but two scenes with the handsome man who made her so deeply unsettled, and it was quite fitting that they should begin with the one in which her character should voice no little displeasure with his.

  Captain Wentworth began. “Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.”

  “What, jealous Oberon? Faeries, skip hence. I have forsworn his bed and company.” Caroline blushed as she spoke the words, unable to meet Captain Wentworth’s eye.

  He seized her in his arms as he spoke the next dialogue. “Tarry, rash wanton. Am I not thy lord?”

  Caroline’s breath caught in her throat as he held her so near him. “I – I did not realize we were practicing movements yet,” she stammered.

  “I think it best,” he said, gazing down at her with all his usual cheek. “It would not do for you to be so nervous on the day of the play – better that you grow accustomed to my touch.”

  He had flustered her, and seemed to know it, though she had made every attempt to appear aloof; it only made him more brazen. Caroline felt that she very well could grow accustomed to being in his arms, despite the manifold reasons why she should not. Keeping as much distance as she could while being so embraced, she brought the script nearer her face and replied, “Then I must be thy lady.”

  Captain Wentworth grinned at her, pulling her closer still, and Caroline stumbled, taking the opportunity to stamp on his foot as she regained her balance – now she gave a little smirk. “But I know when thou hast stolen away from Fairyland, and in the shape of Corin sat all day....”

  “Wait,” he interrupted her. “Let us do that bit again, I rather liked it.”

  “What, you liked my stamping on your foot?”

  He laughed. “Indeed I did, Mrs. Sutton. It is just what proud Titania would do – let us use it in the performance.”

  She smiled in spite of herself. “Ha! This much I could easily rehearse all day.”

  “After being held in my arms?”

  Caroline grimaced at him, then lifted the script up to block him from her view. “In the shape of Corin sat all day, playing on pipes of corn and versing love to amorous Phillida. Why art thou here, come from the farthest step of India? But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, your buskinned mistress and your warrior love, to Theseus must be wedded, and you come to… give their bed joy and prosperity.”

  He clasped her hand in another dramatic pose, reciting his next speech. “How canst thou thus for shame, Titania, glance at my credit with Hippolyta, knowing I thy love to Theseus?” He pulled her closer, holding his script with one hand, and with his other her face, as he spoke with heavy breath. “Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night, from Perigouna, whom he ravished? And make him with fair Aegles break his faith, with Ariadne and Antiopa?”

  Caroline had grown distracted during his speech, and Captain Wentworth nudged her when it was her turn to deliver her lines. Perturbed that he was holding her still, she pushed away his arms as she was sure Titania must do, and replied with only partially feigned indignation. “These are the forgeries of jealousy. And never, since middle of summer’s spring, met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead, by paved fountain or rushy brook – Good Heavens, this is so long a speech! I shall never remember it. Can we not shorten it, and simply say that the weather is bad?”

  Captain Wentworth laughed at her impatience. “What a lucky thing for the Bard, I am sure, that it was not this particular redhead on the throne when he was writing his great works!”

  “Well, really,” Caroline argued, gesturing angrily at her script. “A full page of complaint about the weather! I know I shall never make myself sensible to anyone if I must carry on like that – I will shorten it! Now go on, say your piece.”

  He moved away for a minute, approaching a little writing desk in the corner, where he dipped a pen he found there in some ink, and marked through the better part of Caroline’s long speech in his script, then approached her, took her pages in hand while standing very near her, and proceeded to mark through hers as well.

  “What about this? If we adjust the speech like so, it is not so very long, but still conveys all that the audience is to understand. It is of some significance, you see – the quarrel between King Oberon and his Queen Titania has caused the very climate to disfunction – this detail may be abbreviated, but not omitted. It must be understood by the audience how essential it is to the very world around them that the two should be recon
ciled to one another in the end.”

  He was standing still very close to her, pointing out what he had described in the script, and yet he gazed at her with so much significance. Caroline nodded feebly. “Of course I understand the importance of their union – in the play. Well then, do go on.”

  He resumed his dialogue once more. “Do you amend it then. Why should Titania cross her Oberon? I do but beg a little changeling boy to be my henchman.”

  Caroline groaned. “Another long speech! I shall amend it myself.” She took the pen from him, refilled the ink, and marked her script again. “There now. Set your heart at rest.” Braving a step toward him, Caroline placed her hand on his heart, and affected a thespian pose of her own. He smiled, covering her hand with his. “The Fairyland buys not the child of me. His mother was a votaress of my order, and for her sake I will not part with him.”

  Holding her gaze, Captain Wentworth wrapped his hand around hers and lifted it to his lips, giving it a soft kiss. She stared at him in astonishment, and a moment later he whispered, “Draw your hand away, Mrs. Sutton – proof of your anger with me. How long within this wood intend you to stay?”

  Caroline drew her hand away from him and turned about in a dramatic fashion. “Perchance til after Theseus’s wedding day. If you will patiently dance in our round and see our moonlight revels, go with us. If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts.”

  He moved around her, in a pose of great beseeching. “Give me that boy and I will go with thee.”

  Caroline shook her head with exaggeration. “Not for thy Fairy kingdom! Faeries, away! We shall chide downright, if I longer stay! And then I storm off,” she said with a wicked laugh, doing just that.

  It was not until the next day that he importuned her to rehearse the scene of their reconciliation, which would take place nearer the end of the play. Since rehearsing their first scene together, Caroline had reflected upon it at length, and passed a rather sleepless night thinking of him so late into the twilight hours, but she had come to the conclusion that it must not be so very bad to play-act with him.