"God, I thought I'd lost you," she whispered.
"Never."
"Well," said Jack brightly. "I'm a bit peckish. Anyone else?"
"Me," said Art, after Jack thoughtfully nudged him.
They'd read the signs aright and departed for the kitchen.
"I like that Dr. Seward," Bertrice murmured.
"He's a corker, he is. Real perceptive. Sometimes."
Art would give her away, and Jack would be my best man, and it would have to be in the evening, if that was permitted. The English seemed to favor morning marriage services; I didn't know if that was custom or law.
"You're really all right?" she asked.
"Yes. Much better. Our bad patch is over and done, I have my friends back, and I've got the prettiest gal in the world sitting on my knee. What man could want more?"
"The rest of that world, perhaps?"
"Let it take care of itself."
"At least until tomorrow. Then must I get back to my troupe or `Lady Godalming' will dismiss me."
"Can't have that. I'd be pleased to see your next show again as soon as may be." Then afterwards I could properly present her with a ring. A nice one with diamonds in it to match the brightness of her eyes.
"Actually," she said, sounding reflective, "I would very much like to introduce you to the rest of the players. There's been talk that we really do need some males in the cast so as to achieve quicker acceptance in the—"
That brought me around quick. "Whoa, there, what are you on about?"
"Quincey, you're a positive natural for the stage. I've never beheld a death scene played better. You simply must come and read for us."
I had plans for her, but hadn't even remotely dreamed she'd form plans for me.
Oh, Lord have mercy…
- Prologue Page 30