by Smith, Joan
“Make a dashed pretty Juliet,” Rex said, his fond eyes melting, his voice mellowed with love.
Dewar continued to scrutinize the young girl. She was remarkably pretty and young enough, too, to play Juliet without the audience bursting into guffaws when the girl’s age of fourteen years was mentioned in the play. Her voice was not strong, but it had a clear, bell-like quality that was pleasing.
In a smallish room—the refectory hall at the Abbey, for instance—it would be loud enough. Yes, it would be interesting to mount a truly stunning production of Romeo and Juliet to raise it from the depths of its latest producer, Romeo Coates, who had brought a farcical version of it to London not long ago. And if this girl already knew the role it would save time. Altmore, of course, would play Romeo. With one last, reluctant glance back at Miss McCormack, he decided to try once more for her services in a tragedy.
Before he uttered a word, she spoke up. “I don’t see how you can possibly hope to have people learn a whole play in a month, and rehearse them. If Jane knows the role, common sense would dictate putting on Romeo and Juliet, providing one of your friends could undertake to learn Romeo’s part.”
“Altmore,” Rex said, crossing his legs and jiggling his Hessians up and down, while he admired the gloss of his toes. “Altmore played Romeo at Chatsworth two years ago. Daresay he remembers the lines. Devilish long-headed, Altmore. Knows everything. Memory like an elephant,”
“Will you be in the play, Mr. Homberly?” Jane asked.
“Nope.”
Lady Proctor smiled in blissful contentment.
“Why not?” Jane asked him.
“Too clumsy. Trip over things. Don’t like getting rigged out in silly costumes either. Ain’t saying I wouldn’t stand at the back of the stage to make up a crowd scene. Can’t talk in front of people though. Haven’t got the knack of it. Can’t learn lines either. Offered Dew my horse’s outfit. Glad to let him make use of it if he likes. Help any way I can. Won’t act.” This speech dwindled into a mumble that was nearly inaudible toward its end.
When his lips stopped moving, Lady Proctor turned to Dewar to enquire what role he would take in the play.
“I will direct and produce,” he answered, which satisfied her as putting him in close contact with Jane for the duration.
The fresh tea tray arrived. Lady Proctor served with great daintiness, pushing biscuits and cakes on everyone but Mr. Homberly, who could not wait to be offered. He slid over to the end of the sofa that put him within arm’s reach of the tray and ate his way steadily through a Chinese cake, one piece at a time. While he ate, Dewar explained that his refectory hall would be the scene for the play, with rehearsals to begin a few days hence, after casting was completed.
“Will this leave you time to attend to all your estate business?” Holly enquired.
“I have pretty well finished it already,” he answered.
She could not believe he had seen Mr. Johnson and Mr. Raymond and attended to the half-dozen other matters requiring his decision in the half day since Mr. Johnson had been with them.
* * *
Chapter 6
The village of Harknell looked forward to the novelty of hearing Lord Dewar perform the reading in church on Sunday, but they were disappointed. It was raining, and he did not attend the service. Neither did Mr. Johnson receive an invitation to the Abbey for luncheon. He accepted an invitation to Stonecroft instead to take his mutton with Sir Egbert and his family. Disappointment lent a peevish touch to his conversation that day. He had looked forward to introducing Lord Dewar in church, more to dining at the Abbey.
“It sets a bad tone, for his lordship to stay away from service only for a few drops of rain,” he said, feeling rather daring to utter this mild reproach.
“I don’t think you should look to Dewar for any raising of the moral standards, Mr. Johnson,” Holly said curtly. “Did he return your call yesterday?”
“No, he did not. He didn’t call on Raymond either. Raymond had to drive out to the Abbey to get him to look at some papers.”
“He had time to go into the shops though, and to plan a play to amuse himself during the visit,” Holly said.
“A play? I heard nothing of that!” he replied, a little vexed that he was not the first to know. He soon had all the details, and showed not a jot of approval at the scheme, though he could not like to condemn it outright.
“At least it is Shakespeare—something decent. It is no secret he put on a Restoration comedy five years ago at the Abbey. One of those bawdy things that is considered too risqué even for London.”
“Demmed fine play it was too,” Sir Egbert laughed. “The ladies didn’t care for it, I recollect. It is a pity he has switched to Shakespeare. I like a good comedy myself. So you are to be Juliet, eh, Minx?” he asked, turning to Jane to tease her on her glory.
After dessert, Mrs. Abercrombie, a neighbour, dropped in on her way to visit a friend and, while Lady Proctor regaled her with an account of the play, Johnson turned to Holly for a little more mild complaining.
“I hope this play won’t interfere with Dewar’s attending to business. It is really quite lamentable the way he lets things run to ruin here. It seems a shame he should divert everyone’s time from the work that needs doing at the orphanage. With Christmas coming on, we usually have our Christmas pageant, and there are the Christmas baskets to be made up. The local ladies could be more gainfully occupied than spending their time in an entertainment for the gentry.”
“I don’t intend to waste my time, Mr. Johnson,” Holly assured him. “He asked me to take part, and I told him I would not. My aunt expects me to chaperone, but I believe once the rehearsals begin there will be others who can do it as well. Someone will have to play the Ladies Montague and Capulet—some mature ladies, and there is no reason they cannot chaperone Jane.”
“Who is to play the roles, have you heard?” he asked, with more interest than Holly felt the matter warranted though, upon consideration, she felt it was only a concern that some of his other good workers might be stolen away from him.
“I’m sure Mrs. Raymond will not, nor Miss Boggs. Don’t fear we will desert you at such a busy season, Mr. Johnson.”
“That is kind of you. I knew I might depend on your good sense in this business. I only hope it does not go to Jane’s head, all the attention. But she is a good little girl. She will keep her feet on the ground.”
“Dewar has not been in touch with you at all about business—the orphanage, the church roof?” Holly confirmed.
“Not so much as a note putting off our meeting. I might as well never have written to him. I have been ignored entirely, after hounding him till I am ashamed of it. It is really too bad of him.”
“I shall undertake to remind him, next time he comes here prating of plays,” Holly said, with a martial light glowing in her eye.
“You might just mention it in a discreet way, if the opportunity should arise.”
“The opportunity will arise, Mr. Johnson. I guarantee it.”
* * *
While this conversation was going forth at Stonecroft, Lord Dewar was scouring his library for copies of the play, and when he could find only two he dashed an express off to Hatchard’s in London for the rest. He then held a conference with his guests to decide on roles. Miss McCormack, without knowing it, was cast in the role of Lady Capulet, while Rex flipped through the pages to see which of the minor personages shared a scene with Juliet. He noticed the name Friar Laurence often occurred on the same page with her, but mouthing such impossibly long speeches that he did not volunteer.
“It would be appropriate to have Mr. Johnson play Friar Laurence,” his mother suggested. “A churchman and all. Excellent casting.”
“Would he be willing to do anything so daring?” Dewar asked.
“He’ll leap at the chance, and he could learn the lines easily too, for he has half the scriptures by heart. He rattles them off on Sunday without hardly a glance at his book. Has a good
loud voice. You can’t catch a wink of sleep in church when he is talking.”
“I’ll go and see him this afternoon,” Dewar said. “I could do with a little exercise.”
“What about Rex and me?” Foxworth asked him.
“Come along if you like.”
“I mean, what parts are we to have in the play? Been looking it over. A dandy duel scene here in the third act. Tybalt and Mercutio. Me and Rex could do that. Not too many words you know, but a good rousing sword fight.”
“Not a bad idea. Smallish parts. Practicing their duel will keep ‘em out of mischief,” Altmore said aside to Dewar.
“I seem to recall Mercutio survives the duel, and has a fair speaking part,” Dewar countered.
“So he does. Rex is the more inarticulate. He must be Tybalt. He will enjoy dying. Grunts and groans are not beyond him.”
“We shall try them, and see how it works out,” Dewar decreed.
The next mention of Romeo and Juliet heard by Holly, other than a few reminders each day from Lady Proctor to her daughter that she ought to start looking over her lines, if only they could find the book, occurred on Monday afternoon when Mr. Johnson once more came to call. The Proctors, mother and daughter, had gone into Harknell to try to find a copy of the play. It was Holly’s lot to greet Mr. Johnson alone.
His bright smile led her to believe he had achieved success with Dewar on the matter of augmented funds for the orphanage. “Don’t tell me Lord Dewar has called on you at last!” she exclaimed.
“Indeed he has. Most kind of him. He stayed the better part of an hour. Brought two of his guests with him, a Mr. Homberly and Mr. Altmore. Altmore seems a very gentlemanly sort of a man.”
“I was well impressed with him at the assembly.”
“An excellent fellow. He is to play the role of Romeo. A little old for Jane’s Juliet but then, as Dewar says, at a distance from the stage it will not be noticed. Altmore has a youthful, lithesome figure and a wonderful voice.”
“I see he bored you with his wretched play! Of more importance, Mr. Johnson, are the funds for the orphanage. What sum has he given?”
“The orphanage? We did not discuss it. We are to have a good coze very soon about that.”
“You cannot mean you sat for an hour and let him away without dunning him for more money!” she exclaimed, nonplussed.
“The time was not appropriate. Dewar could only speak of his play. He is very enthusiastic about it. And, as he says, it will be a very good cultural influence on the villagers. We do not get enough intellectual stimulation here in Harknell. I daresay I ought to do more along that line.”
“You scarcely have time to tend to the church and the orphanage. I’m sure no one expects you to raise the level of culture as well.”
“Still, it is a pity that we are all sunk into an intellectual apathy here. I did not realize the extent of it till I spoke with Dewar and Altmore. They are certainly very stimulating conversational companions. How seldom it occurs to us here in the village to read the latest book—philosophical work or poetry, I mean, for of course you ladies all read novels. We are very behindhand in such matters, and I must include ourselves there, Miss McCormack. Oh, we will occasionally order a new sheet of music, or a book of sermons, but the real intellectual life of the country passes us by. We live in a stagnant backwater, and do virtually nothing to keep abreast of the times.”
“I don’t see that putting on Shakespeare brings us right up to the minute,” she answered sharply, not liking the slurs on her mental torpor.
“Shakespeare? He is for all times. Each age finds its own meaning in him. That is what makes him a classic. But our talk was not limited to Shakespeare by a long shot. Philosophy, music, art—those were our topics of conversation. Very stimulating. It quite took me back to my university days. I am very happy indeed they mean to stay a while, and I shall be seeing a good bit of them, with this play.”
“Surely the play will occupy Dewar a good deal, having quite the opposite effect from what you say. He will not have much time to discuss cultural matters with you.”
“Oh, I am to be in the play! Did I not tell you? He asked me to take the part of Friar Laurence. Quite a pivotal character, next in importance only to Romeo and Juliet. Indeed, according to certain views, he is even more important—the only well-developed mature character in the play, actually. Dewar feels my real-life role as a minister of the church adds a depth to the characterization as well. Sort of a role within a role for me, if you see the point. A minister playing a friar. A very profound part. Fortunately, I have a copy of the play in my library. I was used to be quite active in reading and studying, once upon a time.”
“But what of the Christmas pageant? And the baskets—to say nothing of the sewing!”
“The play will take the place of the pageant this year. We have the same old pageant every year, with the same old stock figures. This will be a pleasant change. We shall put on a special performance for the orphans in the afternoon, and it will serve double duty as a dress rehearsal. It is all arranged. You must not take the notion I have forgotten my orphans, Miss McCormack.”
“The children won’t be amused by Shakespeare! They are too young for a love story.”
“They will adore the duel scenes. And the costumes and sets—very elaborate plans he has for them—will be a novelty. Just getting to the Abbey for a day will be a great treat, you know. I trust you good ladies will find a moment to help stitch up the costumes.”
“These elaborate outfits you speak of will take more than a moment, Mr. Johnson! I thought you felt as I do about the play,” she charged angrily. She saw all his former chagrin had to do with his own exclusion, not with wasted or misspent time.
“I did think it a bit of a waste of time at first but, as I reconsider the matter, I come to think it is just what has been lacking in Harknell. We want shaking up, and Dewar is the very one to do it. As he pointed out, it will really waste very little time. Stitching can be done as well at rehearsals as at home, and listening to the immortal words of Shakespeare instead of gossiping will be good for you. Always with the exception of the Good Book, you will not find more good sense more eloquently spoken than in Shakespeare. Indeed, I often find it difficult to know for sure whether certain quotations come from the one source or the other. Shakespeare has quite a Biblical style. I daresay he was a regular reader of the book.”
This fabrication seemed to set the seal of approval on the scheme. No words she could speak moved him an inch from his position. Before he left, the play had become not only a pleasure, but a positive duty.
Over the next day and a half, Holly came to realize that if she was not to spend the next two months in utter isolation she would involve herself in the dramatic presentation. It was the only item discussed in the village. Ladies who should have been tending to charity work were holding reading parties to familiarize themselves with the play.
Dewar did not come to Stonecroft in person, but he sent his eager ambassador, Mr. Homberly, to inform Miss McCormack she was to play Lady Capulet, and to enquire whether Lady Proctor would have any objection to holding the first few rehearsals in her saloon, as his own hall was in the carpenter’s hands, with a stage and proscenium arch under erection. Lady Proctor gave her much-gratified consent. Miss McCormack did not
“I am much too busy,” she told Rex.
“Not that many lines,” he pointed out.
“I am not interested,” she insisted mulishly.
Lady Proctor, thumbing through Jane’s copy, began to wonder whether it would not be interesting for her as well as Johnson to play a role within a role, and be Juliet’s mama, as she was Jane’s. It could not be a contemptible thing to do, for certainly Mr. Johnson had mentioned a dozen titled ladies who had appeared in private theatricals. Mr. Johnson seldom spoke of anything but theatricals nowadays. She mentioned this matter to Homberly who said, by Jove, it was just the ticket, and he’d tell Dew it was all set.
He took his tw
o answers back to the Abbey, where Dewar heard with satisfaction that he was to have carte blanche with the saloon and, with surprise, that Miss McCormack declined the honour. “We’ll see about that,” Dewar stated blandly.
“Already taken care of it,” Rex assured him, smiling smugly at his coup. “Did a spot of casting myself. Never guess what, Dew. Jane’s mother is going to play Juliet’s mother. Dashed good idea.”
Dewar turned his head very slowly and levelled a dark eye on his cousin. “I might have known better!” he said in a voice of suppressed anger.
* * *
Chapter 7
The next morning, Lord Dewar called at Stonecroft, his stated purpose being to decide whether Lady Proctor’s saloon would do for a few rehearsals. While there, however, he handed Miss McCormack her copy of the play, with her role ticked off in red.
Three days is rather a long time to hear all one’s friends discuss a new project with the keenest enthusiasm, and not become a little infected oneself. To a conscientious daughter of a minister, it also seemed improper that the whole village be laid low with play-acting fever, particularly when there was more worthwhile work to be done. She knew that ladies who quibbled about a pound for charity baskets were spending several times that amount on extravagant materials to make themselves up outfits to be worn once.
Mrs. Raymond, for instance, alias Lady Montague, had actually sent off to London for a length of Italian crepe, and spoke of going to London herself to have it made up by a city modiste. Miss Lacey, who was to play Juliet’s vulgar nurse, had come twice to confer with Juliet on their respective roles, and to discover as well how often Dewar came to call. She knew he was above her touch, and set her cap for Altmore instead.
Holly’s interest was also awake in that direction, and when she thought of the many hours the actors would be spending together she experienced a deep-seated and unworthy wish to join them. This wish rendered her very sensible to Lady Proctor’s unsuitability to appear on stage in any capacity. She would never learn her lines, nor speak them with sufficient force to extend beyond the stage.