by Carla Kelly
“Speak on,” Malcolm said his voice suddenly breathless.
“When I return to the inn, I will write a note to John Kemble, telling him that he must take a post chaise to Leeds at once. When will you perform Well Married again? He must see it.”
Maria gasped. Kate tugged at her. “Who is John Kemble?” she asked.
“Only the manager of Covent Garden Theatre,” Maria explained when she caught her breath. “Our fortunes are made!”
Long after the last well-wisher left, and Edmund Kean finally broke away from reminiscence to return to the inn, the Bladesworths sat in the green room. Davy and Will brought in the night’s receipts to count in front of the others. As the sky began to lighten, everyone retired to bed, assured that there would be bacon and eggs for breakfast.
“But I was beginning to like Madeira with my oatmeal,” Will protested and then tried to defend himself when Maria pummeled him.
Kate did not sleep. Her mind was in a turmoil of activity, reliving the play, savoring the delicious triumph, enjoying the comforting sight of the box office receipts, even with her eyes closed. When Steinberg and Sons reopened, she would redeem Ivy’s brooch and Gerald’s music box. Everyone had agreed that the other items could wait until another night’s success. “No sense in tempting the gods,” was Malcolm’s way of putting it.
She was there in the morning before any of the others were up, impatient for Steinberg to turn the key in the lock. In a matter of moments the brooch and music box were safely in her hands. Instead of leaving the shop, she went from case to case, looking for Hal’s wedding ring. It was gone, the little ring with flowers carved in the gold that he had tossed in her lap so casually, and which fit her finger as if it belonged there.
It is a sign, and I shall be philosophical about this, she told herself as she gave up finally and started back to the theatre. It will be easier to forget the marquess if I do not have any visible reminders. The sooner I get over my little infatuation, the better. I should begin getting him out of my system right now.
It was an easy matter to avoid him the rest of the day. She was the only one awake until the middle of the afternoon, and then they were all too busy preparing for that night’s performance for any private conversation. They acted Well Married for an overflowing audience that night. Patrons stood along the walls and laughed and cheered to the antics of the Rowbottom sisters and their quest for suitors. Phoebe spent more time in front of the curtain afterward, speaking Shakespeare’s lines, and delving into the sonnets, too.
“How delightful to have an audience that wants more and more,” Malcolm whispered from the wings, his eyes on his daughter. “Tomorrow we will send you out to sing!”
Kate only smiled and shook her head. “My dear sir, since I own this theatre, I can tell you no!”
“She has vowed only to sing lullabies to our children from now on,” Hal whispered to Malcolm as he stood behind her.
“Hal, stop that!” she said, her voice weary. To her complete misery, he did just as she said.
Exhausted, she went immediately to bed after the play, making a point not to catch Hal’s eye. She slept late the next day, and even after she woke, she busied herself about the room, straightening things already tidy, until she ran out of excuses and her stomach began to rumble. I wish he would go away, she thought, and then felt tears start in her eyes as she looked about the theatre and he was not there.
“Where is everyone?” she asked Maria finally when she found her brushing costumes in the wardrobe room.
“Oh, do you mean where is the marquess?” Maria replied, a smile playing about her face.
“Maria! Am I so transparent?” she asked, and picked up a clothes brush.
“You are,” Maria teased. “And he told me he is feeling ill-used because you will not speak to him.”
Kate brushed her costume with a vengeance. “All he does is tease and flirt, and it is driving me to distraction.” She sank onto a chair and looked up at Maria. “And I wish he would hurry up and leave so I could forget him.”
Maria took the brush from her hand and kissed the top of her head. “Perhaps you will have your wish. Papa and Hal have gone to meet the mail coach. It seems that our fame is spreading. We are being rejoined by our actors! We won’t really need Hal now,” she said and then sobered. “Or Will, either.”
To her relief there was again no time for conversation, not with former Bladesworth company members reassembled and priming themselves to resume old roles and learn the new and clever Well Married that everyone was talking about. As she fidgeted and stewed, Hal sat quietly, smiling to himself and listening to their improbable stories of summertime successes as though he actually believed them.
She made a disquieting discovery during that third performance which should have pleased her, but only increased her dissatisfaction. Hal was avoiding her, too. He did not stand by her, his hand on her shoulder in that proprietary way, or catch her eye and wink while they waited backstage and listened for cues. He was quieter, and when she did feel his gaze on her, it was a measured look, as though he were sizing her up for bad news. He seemed several times on the verge of speaking, but he always thought better of it.
She waited, head down, on her side of the stage, chilly with the knowledge that it was only a matter of time before Hal ended his charade, threw himself on the mercy of the magistrate, and left her life. He must be trying to get the courage to tell me that it was only a summer flirtation, she thought. I should really spare him the trouble.
She couldn’t bring herself to do it. Just leave, Hal, she told herself as she hurried from the stage when the applause died down and fled to her room. Don’t explain why, or that you knew we wouldn’t suit, or turn red and stammer your apologies. Let me remember the pleasure of that one night when we almost made love, and you did propose. Leave me that. It is a frustrating memory, because we did not go far enough, but it is better than nothing at all.
When the end came, she was not prepared for the pain.
Costumed, wigged, and made up, she sat in the green room the night of the last performance, waiting for the others to join her, hoping that Hal would not come in first. Her luck failed her. She looked up to see him standing, costumed, in the doorway, watching her, hesitating, on the verge of speaking.
“Kate, my dear,” he began before she could leap in with some distraction, “I really need to talk to you.”
Her heart plummeted into her stomach and stayed there.
“You don’t need to say anything, Hal,” she began quietly. “I knew there was nothing permanent in your attachment.” There. She had come out with it. She waited for the knife to twist and braced herself against it.
“You don’t understand,” he said, coming closer, his face red. “I have done something that you need to know about.” He chuckled, in spite of his obvious discomfort. “I mean, you really need to know.” He took her hand and kept her close as she rose to leave.
“Surely, it’s nothing that you can’t forget, once you have returned to London,” she said, wishing he would not hold her that way, so close that she could smell his cologne.
“Actually it is not that simple, my dear wife.” He picked his words carefully, as though on some diplomatic mission.
“I wish you would not say that!” she exclaimed, tears in her eyes. “Will is not here, and I am not your wife.”
“Well, as to that …”
“Here he is, Pinky! Uncle, surprise, surprise!”
Hal went suddenly pale. He dropped her hand as though it scalded him and whirled around to face the open door.
Two men stood there, one tall and thin and dressed in the latest London mode, complete with fobs and seals and a collar so high that he could not look around. The other man was older, Hal’s age perhaps, with pale complexion and almost-white hair.
Hal groaned as the thin man in the tight pantaloons minced into the room and took the marquess’s hand. “Uncle Henry, we have come to rescue you from low company!”
<
br /> Kate gasped and threw herself between the two men, pushing Hal back. “You cannot have him! I shall scream!” she shouted. “Run, Hal! I’ll stop them!”
The thin man—it could only be Algernon—gaped at her in amazement and then began to giggle, while the man in the doorway raised a quizzing glass. He surveyed her and smiled indulgently at the marquess, who stood transfixed, holding his breath and making no attempt to flee.
“Oh, Henry, Henry,” he scolded, his tone indulgent, “what frivolity have you been engaging in this summer?”
Hal said nothing. Kate looked from him to the other men, both hands to her mouth. She swallowed several times and took a deep breath, wondering if any words would come out if she tried to speak.
“You … you … Hal, why didn’t you run? Isn’t Algernon trying to kill you?”
Algernon laughed. “Oh, my, no! Did he tell you that?” He rolled his eyes. “Uncle, Henry, you are positively wicked! What a famous joke this is! I cannot wait to circulate it about!”
Chapter 18
No one spoke for the longest minute. Hal, his face pale, his expression unreadable, seemed incapable of words. The man Algernon called Pinky resorted to his quizzing glass again, turning it on Kate.
“Ah, well, friend, I cannot blame you. She is a pretty piece.” Kate gasped. Algernon laughed and nudged his uncle. “She is quite an actress. That sounded almost genuine. Really, Uncle Henry, it is better to call her a piece than an aunt!” He bowed mockingly to her. “Do introduce us.”
Kate’s eyes filled with tears of humiliation as Algernon bowed before her. She stared at Hal, who still seemed bereft of sense. “How could you?”
Her words, wrenched from her heart, seemed to rouse him from his shock. He looked from his nephew to Pinky, and back to his nephew.
“Algernon, as always, your timing is impeccable,” he said, his voice dry. “May I introduce Katherine Billings? Kate, this is my nephew, Algernon, and my former best friend, Pinky D’Urst.”
“Algernon? Did you say Algernon?”
Davy and Will burst into the room, knocking Pinky aside, and tackled Algernon, throwing him to the floor, where Muggeridge pinned his arms behind him as he shrieked and begged for mercy. The runner, all business, called for Gerald, who ran into the room, with his fencing foil and flicked it at Pinky.
“I call that wondrous brazen,” the runner said as he jerked Algernon to his feet. “How dare you come in here like that to kidnap the marquess? You must think he has no friends.”
Hal put his hand on Will’s arm. “Let him go, sir,” he said, “and call the others. I have something to say.” He smiled wryly at Kate, but there was no humor in his eyes. “I fear when I finish, I will have no friends.”
Will frowned. “Are you sure you will be safe from these ugly customers?”
“Will, I have never been safer,” Hal insisted. “Algernon, I fear you have a hole in your pantaloons. It will match the hole in your head.”
The nephew stared in horror at the little rip below his knee. “This is the thanks we get for only following your instructions? I like that!”
“My instructions?” Hal repeated, his face a blank.
Moving slowly, Pinky edged toward Hal, and out of the reach of Gerald’s foil. “I distinctly remember that you told us to give you a week, and that then you would have things arranged to your satisfaction. Well, it has been a week. Here we are, and obviously not a moment too soon.”
Unable to stand steadily, Kate plopped onto a packing crate as she tried to sort out what he said. “One week? Then these are your kidnappers, aren’t they, Lord Grayson?” she asked, her voice formal.
“That, and the two biggest bunglers I have ever known,” he replied. “Kate, I have to talk to you when this is over. I really must.”
She gazed at him, measured him, and found him wanting. “I think that there cannot be too little said, my lord.”
“Kate, please!”
She turned away as Malcolm entered the room, looking about him in dismay. “I do not know why you have to call us together now, Hal! We go on in fifteen minutes.” He stared at Algernon. “And who is this man milliner?”
“That is Algernon, the wicked nephew,” Kate explained. “Do enlighten us, Hal. I believe it is about the least you can do.”
“Kate, don’t …”
They waited in tense, thick silence until all the Bladesworths had crowded into the green room. Algernon continued to mourn the injury to his pantaloons, looking about him for sympathy, and finding none on anyone’s face. “Riffraff,” he muttered under his breath.
When everyone was silent, watching him, Hal cleared his throat. “I have played you all a deceitful game,” he began, his eyes looking straight ahead at some spot on the wall. “While it is true that Algernon was involved in that shooting on the Great North Road, it was more in the nature of a rather misguided prank.” He looked at Kate, and then looked away, visibly shaken. “I was never in any danger from him, or anyone else, for that matter.”
None of the Bladesworths were slowtops, so the news, and its implications, sank in swiftly. “Then you have been deliberately lying to us, boy?” Malcolm asked, his voice too calm. Ivy and her daughters looked at each other and moved closer together.
“Well, yes,” Hal said after a pause, mistaking Malcolm’s calmness for complacency. “I thought at first that it would be great fun, and you all were so concerned. Then it seemed that I could be useful. I did not think there would be any harm done …” His voice trailed away.
“Harm?” asked Malcolm, his voice suddenly too jovial. “Will, here, nearly gets his head kicked in by one of these friends of yours.” His voice rose several notches. “We spend anxious hours wondering about your safety, and even before the kidnapping, wondering how we could protect you better. And Kate, Kate—”
“No, stop, Malcolm,” Kate interrupted and rose to her feet. “I was a fool all by myself. You see, I thought …” she gulped. “I thought he loved me.” Ivy, her face full of pain, reached out for her, but she backed away, shaking her head. She could not bring herself to look at Hal. “I was an idiot, to be sure, but at least that is all I need repent of. I can thank you for being a gentleman that one time, my lord. I am grateful that your frivolous nature has some checks to it. But everything considered, perhaps Abner Sheffield was right about you, after all.”
She turned to Hal then, her heart bounding from her shoes to her throat at his stricken expression. “We will perform this play tonight because we have to. When it is over, I do not wish to see you ever again. Now, I think we should take our places.”
Malcolm nodded. “Lord Grayson, if you are out of here by the time we come off the stage after act five, that would be best.”
“By God, it will be fine with me, too,” Pinky burst out. “Who do you people think you are to sit in judgment of a marquess?”
Malcolm stared down any more comment. “Well, for one thing, Lord D’Urst, we are honest folk. Good-bye, Hal. It was pleasant there, for a while, but it’s time we parted company.” They took their places on the stage for act one.
Considering the general devastation felt by all the cast, it was a remarkable performance, Kate admitted as they began the last act. The audience, unmindful of backstage trouble, cheered them on, inspiring them by their applause to reach deep inside, overlook the hurt and shock, and perform like the troupers they were.
He is only Squire Pinchbeck, Kate kept telling herself as she flirted and goggled at Hal. I will not think about his fine hands, his elegant profile, his wonderful lips, and the way I feel—felt—all giddy when he came close to me, she thought as she smiled and simpered about the stage, to the delight of the audience. I won’t even think about the courage that he loaned me when I was the one wanting, and not he. She signed the marriage document, grateful down to her shoes that it was only a piece of paper, and swooned into Malcolm’s arms as Phoebe danced about with it and the curtain closed.
When the curtain reopened, the audience wa
s standing and stomping, and yelling for more. The actors bowed to each other, and then Hal grasped her hand as they headed forward for a bow to the audience.
“I wish you would hear me out, Kate,” he whispered as they bowed. “You really need to hear what I have to say.”
She forced herself to look at him. “I think it is too late for any arrangement that you had hoped to make with me, my lord. I am not the arranging type.”
He let go of her hand and grabbed her shoulders in front of the footlights as the audience gaped. “Hold on, now, Kate! Do you think for even one moment that I would make an improper offer?” he roared, oblivious to the sudden silence that fell over the entire theatre. “By God, you are a stubborn female! I wonder why on earth I can’t live without you!”
She jerked herself away from him and slapped him so hard that she stumbled backward and would have fallen into the footlights if Will hadn’t grabbed her and held onto her when she struggled to take another swing at him.
“Kate, do behave yourself,” Will murmured as he set her upright.
With a sob she ran from the stage and locked herself in the bedroom, indulging in a hearty bout of tears that everyone had the good sense not to interrupt. When she emerged an hour later, pale and still shaking, Hal was gone. Will met her in the hallway.
She wiped a hand across her eyes. “I am sorry for that outburst, Will,” she managed. “I don’t know what got into me.” He shook his head, put his arm around her, and gave her a little shake. “I think everyone in the cast wanted to land that punch, Kate.” He chuckled. “I don’t think Lord Grayson will see out of that eye for at least a week.”
She gasped. “Oh, I didn’t mean to do him an injury!”
“Well, the rest of us did,” he said frankly, then handed her a folded paper. “He left this note for you in the green room.”
She ripped it into tiny pieces, scattering them about the floor. “I doubt he has anything I need to hear.”
His arm about her, they went into the green room, where everyone was still assembled. She looked from dear face to dear face and finally felt her heart climbing up out of her stomach and back where it belonged. “Forgive me,” she said simply. “I intend to put this episode behind as soon as possible.” She turned to Malcolm. “Sir, what have you planned for next week?”