by Sandra Heath
"She was a London actress, I believe," the fisherman added.
"Actress?" Megan's interest quickened.
"That's right. From the time of Nell Gwynne." He clambered down from the boat. "Well, that's me finished for now. I'll bid you good-bye, miss." Touching his hat again, he walked up the pebbles to the steps.
Megan gazed up at the painted name on the vessel's prow. An actress from the time of Nell Gwynne? Surely that was Rollo's time too? Could Belle Bevington have anything to do with Evangeline's actor ghost?
The puzzle was abruptly forgotten because a large ill-tempered black dog suddenly advanced toward her from behind the vessel. It bared its teeth and growled, as if longing for an excuse to attack. As she gave a frightened scream, the dog was struck by a pebble aimed carefully from the steps. With a yelp of pain it ran off, and Megan whirled gratefully about, expecting to see the fisherman; instead she saw Greville.
"Are you all right?" he asked, coming quickly over to her.
"I-I, er, yes… Thank you."
He could see that she was shaken, so he made her sit down on an upturned rowing boat to recover. "Sit quietly for a moment, and you will feel better," he said gently.
She managed a little humor. "The dog must share your opinion of ladies' companions, Sir Greville."
"Which rather puts me on a level with savage, ugly hounds," he murmured, and placed a foot upon the rowing boat next to her. Then he removed his top hat and swung it idly in his gloved hands. He wore a wine-red coat and cream breeches, the warmer temperature not disposing him to the extra warmth of a greatcoat, and there was a diamond pin in his neck cloth that caught the pale winter light. "I thought you were accompanying Miss Holcroft this morning?" he said after a moment.
"I did."
"Past tense? I am amazed that Miss Holcroft should have finished shopping already, for it is her delight to do such things until she has worn out her shoes."
"Well, I'm sure she would have done that, but…" Megan fiddled with the package containing her mask and comb.
"But?" he prompted.
"But we met Mr. March, and she has gone for a drive with him."
"I see." He gazed seaward.
"Sir Greville, I fear she has told me that she expects Mr. March to propose to her soon, and that when he does she will accept."
"So as yet there are no plans for St. Valentine's Day?"
"I do not see how there can be if he has yet to ask for her hand. Maybe he will not do so," Megan added without conviction, for Oliver's interest in Chloe was too marked to be anything other than serious.
"I trust you honored your promise at breakfast and did your utmost to dissuade her from all thought of the fellow?"
"I said that I would, and I did." He didn't reply to this, which she immediately took to be a lack of belief in her word. "I suppose you think I am not to be trusted?" she said, unable to keep a confrontational note out of her voice.
He straightened. "I did not say that, Miss Mortimer."
"No, but you thought it."
"Don't speculate upon what I am thinking."
"Why not?" You are presuming to accuse me of not honoring my promise to Lord Rupert," she answered illogically, for the whole point was that he hadn't actually said anything at all!
Annoyance entered his eyes. "How typical of a woman! I am silent, yet find myself charged with casting aspersions!"
"What else am I to think after you remained so resoundingly silent a moment ago?" Common sense and discretion were winging away into the cloud-laden heavens, but she did not care. Something about this man stung her into behaving in a way she would not normally have dreamed of.
"Madam, I did not say anything because your statement did not seem to require it!" he replied, employing a labored, patronizing tone that goaded her beyond all bounds.
She leapt to her feet, snatched his top hat, and tossed it as far as she could. It landed on its brim on the hard sand, and rolled away like a wheel. Then she stalked off to the steps with as much dignity as she could. She was livid with anger at him, and appalled with herself. There was no doubt in her mind that she had just thrown her new position away with the hat, but it was too late now. She might as well pack to leave! But even as she hurried up to the cliff top, she knew in her heart that her reaction had been due as much to hurt as anything. She wanted to be indifferent to him, but she couldn't; she wanted not to find him attractive, but she couldn't; she wanted… Oh, she didn't know what she wanted? Choking back a sob, she fled back toward Radcliffe House.
Greville gazed after her in astonishment. Then he glanced toward his top hat, in time to see the black dog tearing it to pieces with its teeth. Then a canine hind leg was raised to deliver a final ignominious insult.
Chapter 21
On reaching Radcliffe House, Megan decided it would be more dignified to hand in her notice than wait to be dismissed, but Evangeline was so flustered and busy with costumes that the moment did not seem right. The deed had still to be done when Greville returned, but to Megan's astonishment he didn't say a word about the scene on the beach. She did not know what to think, except that she didn't really want to leave Evangeline's employ. She knew she would be face-to-face with Greville during the rehearsals planned for that afternoon, so she decided to wait and see what happened then.
In the meantime she had the task of telling Rupert what Chloe had said. He was so crestfallen that Megan could have wept for him, but he had to face the fact that Chloe's regard for Oliver had yet to be shaken, and marriage was very probable. This unhappy interview took place in the drawing room, making it impossible for her to write her letter, so she went to the theater to seek Rollo. Once again there was no sign of the ghost. Having nothing else to do, and there not being sufficient time to walk to the church and look at Belle Bevington's memorial, she went up to her bedroom and read a little more of The Castle of Otranto.
All too soon it was time for the rehearsal that had been agreed on the night before, and once again, as if determined to make Rupert's misery even worse, Oliver made his claim upon Chloe very evident indeed. He carried her shawl, hovered constantly at her elbow, found everything she said very witty, and gazed at her with such abject adoration that Rupert declared himself utterly nauseated, which did not go down at all well with Chloe.
Sir Jocelyn attended as well, and Megan soon realized that since the previous night his manner toward her had undergone a subtle change. It wasn't that he was less friendly, just that he seemed conscious of her in a different way. Several times she felt his one good eye upon her, but in a way that made her curious rather than uncomfortable.
Rollo honored the rehearsal with his presence, but Megan had no opportunity to speak to him. He was completely invisible again, and kept his pithy comments to a minimum, from which restraint Megan concluded that the ticking off he had received from Evangeline the night before had been severe enough to curb the sharper edge of his tongue, at least temporarily.
When Oliver first arrived, Evangeline was shocked by the graze on his forehead. "Good heavens, Mr. March, whatever has happened to you?" she gasped as he was shown into the theater, where everyone else had already gathered.
"I rather foolishly walked into a cupboard," he replied.
Rupert did not bother to hide a smile. "Good for the cupboard," he muttered.
His aunt was cross. "Rupert!"
"Sorry, Aunt E," he. said, but in far too facile a manner to be sincere.
The poor tone of the rehearsal was therefore set. Rupert did not miss an opportunity to have a sly snipe at Oliver, Oliver fawned upon Chloe, Chloe enjoyed being at the center of both men's attention, and Megan's concentration was so bad that she constantly missed her cue for the parts she was required to read. Sir Jocelyn kept reading Sir Toby Belch instead of Sir Andrew Aguecheek, and Greville was in deep water with Evangeline for not having learned Malvolio's lines as promised. And that was not the worst of it, because before long Greville and Oliver were at daggers drawn by the latter sniggering a
t the mention of cross-gartered yellow stockings.
Greville rounded upon him. "One more smirk, March, and so help me I'll throttle you with those damned garters!"
"Oh, come on, Seton, have you no sense of humor?" Oliver replied with a drawl that was almost the very smirk he had been warned about.
"I have an excellent sense of humor, sir, indeed I'd think it hilarious to get a certain Henry VIII codpiece and shove it up-"
"Greville!" cried Evangeline, shocked.
"I'm sorry, Aunt E, but it would be no more than he deserves!"
"Hear, hear," added Rupert.
Evangeline put her hands on her hips and glared at them all. "I am appalled by the standard of this rehearsal. I do not think any of you, except perhaps Chloe, are making any real attempt to do it properly. Now, then, we will begin again, and this time I expect you to work at it. Do I make myself clear?"
They all shuffled a little and murmured their agreement, and the rehearsal resumed. As the rehearsal droned on, Rollo grew bored. Inspired perhaps by memories of failing to levitate gravel, he passed the time by seeing how adept he could be with berries from the holly and mistletoe that now festooned the front of the stage. Several times he got things wrong, and the berries pattered to the floor, then rolled in all directions. A few people commented about these mysterious occurrences, but put them down to the greenery becoming dry indoors-although how a mere drying would catapult them for yards at a time was not explained. Megan knew what was happening, however, and was thinking about Rollo and the mystery of the church when she missed her cue.
Oliver cleared his throat. "Er, Miss Mortimer?"
She was miles away; well, perhaps not miles, just at St. Nicholas's.
Rollo whispered in her ear. "Thou art dreaming, sweetness?"
"Mm?"
"Thy beastly foe addresses thee. He is in error, but nevertheless he plunges in."
Oliver was irritated by her daydreaming. "Pray keep your mind on the matter in hand. Maria speaks to Malvolio now."
Megan's cheeks flamed. "Oh, yes, er,…" She looked hastily at the text.
Evangeline's nostrils flared. "No, Mr. March, it is not Maria who speaks now, but Feste! The lines are mine!"
Oliver colored. "I… Oh, forgive me, Lady Evangeline."
Evangeline glared at them all, defying anyone to point out that she had been the one who missed her cue. Not a word was uttered out of place, and after a moment she returned her attention to her pages. " 'God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for twopence that you are no fool.''
Chloe had the next line as Olivia. " 'How say you to that, Malvolio?' "
Greville spoke up in the flat tone he had employed throughout. " 'I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal: I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool that has no more brain than a stone…' " His voice died away as he felt all eyes upon him, their owners in varying states of suppressed mirth.
His dull, measured delivery left Megan hard put to keep a straight face, and she had to bite her lip when she heard Rollo's disparaging snort. Chloe looked as if she would burst, and Rupert and Sir Jocelyn strove manfully to show no reaction, but Oliver grinned openly.
Evangeline threw her pages down in despair. "Great heavens above, Greville, you are the one who seems to have no more brain than a stone! Doesn't the Bard's genius impart anything to you at all?"
Chloe began to giggle, and in a moment Rupert had joined her. Sir Jocelyn bent double with laughter, and then Oliver joined in, albeit in a rather forced way because Chloe and Rupert began to share their laughter. Sir Jocelyn continued to laugh, but his quick glance moved from Chloe and Rupert to Oliver, and then back again. Greville tossed his script furiously into the air. "Oh, this is insufferable!" he cried.
"This old shade is in harmony with that," Rollo put in slyly from the direction of the tent.
The vestiges of Evangeline's patience disappeared. "I warned you about this sort of thing last night, Master Witherspoon!"
"But, sweet lady-"
"Enough! One more word and I will have nothing more to do with you!"
As always when she made such asides, everyone else fell into embarrassed silence. Oliver looked uncertainly at her. Was she deranged? Surely she must be, for she was addressing the tent!
Greville strode furiously out of the theater, and slammed the door behind him. Evangeline sighed. "Well, if he is that out of countenance with us, I suppose he must have been doing his best.'" She turned to Megan. "Miss Mortimer, please go after Greville and persuade him to return."
"Me? Oh, but-"
"Before Christmas, if you please!"
"Yes, Lady Evangeline." Putting her text unwillingly aside, Megan left the theater. She thought that any endeavors from her would make him dig his insulted toes in still further, but a command was a command. At last she found him in the summerhouse, sitting on a bench and gazing at the lily pond. In the apple tree the mistletoe swayed golden against a sky where the clouds were now almost leaden. The breeze was playful, and the noise of demolition not too intrusive.
He suddenly realized she was there, and began to get up, but she hastily prevented him. "Please don't, Sir Greville," she said, and took the liberty of joining him.
"I suppose my aunt has dispatched you to haul me back into the fold?"
"Yes."
"An unfortunate choice of messenger."
She smiled ruefully. "I fear so."
"At least you contained your mirth to some extent."
"Only just."
"I'm delighted to have been of such comic service to you all." He paused, then went on. "I'm also delighted to have provided that damned dog with such a diversion."
She looked quickly at him. "Diversion?"
"It tore my top hat to shreds, and then did something disgusting on the remains."
Megan stared. "I-I did not know."
"Perhaps because you were too busy quitting the scene of the crime."
"I only threw the hat, Sir Greville, I didn't intend it to meet such a horrible end."
He smiled then. "I'm glad to hear it, for if you'd thrown the unfortunate item and performed as the dog did, I would be very uneasy about sitting with you now."
She laughed a little, then looked away. "Why didn't you tell Lady Evangeline what I did? I thought you would seize upon it to have me dismissed."
"Perhaps because it was one instance when I could see the funny side." He looked away as well. He knew he could have caused a great deal of trouble for her by telling his aunt; he also knew that the letter he'd written to his friend in Bath was still in his pocket. He got up and went to the front of the summerhouse. "You think I have been most unfair to you, don't you?" he said without looking back at her.
"Yes, I do," she replied honestly.
He turned. "What of your unfairness to Sophia Strickland when you attempted to seduce her husband?"
Megan's lips parted. "Did-did Lady Evangeline tell you?"
"So my aunt knows, does she? I did not think she could. No, she didn't tell me, Miss Mortimer, I heard the sordid tale from Strickland himself."
Megan felt dreadful. The entire world appeared to know what Ralph claimed had happened; and those like Sir Greville Seton were only too eager to believe him! She composed herself, determined to be as dignified as possible. "Mr. Strickland did not tell the truth, Sir Greville, whatever you may wish to think to the contrary, and before you call me a liar, perhaps you should know that Lady Jane told Lady Evangeline about it. She did not attempt to defend her son; indeed, she admitted that he was at fault, not me."
"And still dismissed you? Oh, come now…"
"She preferred that to another long estrangement from her only family."
Greville studied her. "You sound very plausible, Miss Mortimer."
"Which means that either I am telling the truth, or my acting abilities far outstrip yours."
; He gave an unwilling laugh. "Well, that would not be so hard to achieve."
"I will not argue, for you are undoubtedly the very worst actor I have ever encountered."
"I perceive that you are not one to spare a man's blushes."
"Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap," she replied. Why should she spare his blushes? He certainly didn't spare hers!
He gave her a wry look. "So the Bible is on your side, is it?"
"That I do not presume to claim, sir, but Lady Evangeline certainly is. Speak to her if you cannot bring yourself to believe me. She will tell you that I was Mr. Strickland's victim, not his pursuer." Megan felt a sudden inexplicable urge to tell him about Oliver, and before she knew it, the words were tripping from her tongue. "There is something I think you should know, Sir Greville, but it must not go any further. Not even Lady Evangeline is party to this."
"A dark secret, Miss Mortimer?"
"Not dark, redheaded. Oliver March is my cousin."
He was startled. "He's what?"
"He is the kinsman who threw me out of my home and obliged me to seek my living. It is a relationship we are both at pains to keep quiet. He naturally wishes to keep his past actions from Miss Holcroft, and I value my position here too much to risk exposing someone who may be about to become Sir Jocelyn's son-in-law. Being dismissed unfairly once is bad enough, to court it a second time would be madness." Megan lowered her gaze, and wondered if it would have been better to have held her tongue.
Greville folded his arms. "Well, I suppose that explains your dislike for him." He looked intently at her. "May I ask why you've decided to tell me?"
"I don't really know. I suddenly wanted you to know." She lowered her eyes. "Perhaps it is just that I needed to confide in someone."
"I would have thought I was the last person on God's own earth you would choose to confide in."
"So would I," she answered with heartfelt candor.
"Well, you have my word that your secret about March is safe with me." The ghost of a smile played around his lips. "You intrigue me, Miss Mortimer, and your company is certainly never boring."