Celia's House

by D. E. Stevenson

  “Pale gray would be so much more uncommon,” Tessa urged. “I mean, a sort of silvery gray—and bouquets of pink carnations.”

  “Where are all the others?” asked Mark. He was sick of the subject of Edith’s wedding. They were all crazy about it.

  “We lost them in the wood,” replied Joyce, her face clouding slightly. “It was silly really, because I was going to take Oliver to see the garden. He said he wanted to see it and then—”

  “What about a walk?” asked Mark.

  “We’ve just been for a walk,” Joyce said crossly.

  “But it wasn’t a very long one,” said Tessa, smiling.

  This sounded quite hopeful and Mark’s hopes were fulfilled with extraordinary ease. In a few minutes he and Tessa were walking across the lawn together.

  “I thought you were working this morning,” Tessa said.

  “I tried to,” replied Mark. “But, you see, when I come back to Dunnian, I feel I must go out and see the place. After I’ve seen it properly I shall be able to settle down.”

  “Yes, of course,” she agreed. “I think Dunnian is perfect. Ryddelton House is bigger, but it isn’t nearly so nice. There have always been Dunnes here, I suppose.”

  “For hundreds of years. I thought I would take you to see the old Peel Tower where my ancestors used to live. I don’t think they can have been very comfortable, but they were very secure.”

  “I’d love to see it. Ryddelton House is comparatively new. Oliver will have it someday.”

  “I wondered—”

  “Yes, Oliver will have Ryddelton. That’s why we’re here this summer. Grannie wants Oliver to learn to look after the place. The factor is going to show him the ropes.”

  Mark sighed. Sometimes he felt a little sad that Dunnian would not be his. He said, “It’s nice for Oliver, isn’t it. I expect there’s a lot to learn. There’s a great deal of land, isn’t there?”

  She nodded. “Quite a lot. Oliver finds it quite interesting, but it’s terribly dull for me. I don’t like Ryddelton and Grannie is so stuffy. It’s frightful to think I’ve got to put up with Grannie’s fads and fancies all the summer.”

  Mark felt a trifle embarrassed, for he liked old Lady Skene and he felt that it was not quite right to speak of her slightingly.

  “She’s such a sight,” continued Tessa, smiling. “That awful red wig—and it’s always a bit crooked—those appalling clothes!”

  “I think she’s rather wonderful,” said Mark.

  “You wouldn’t if you had to live with her.”

  “She’s old,” said Mark, who had made up his mind that he must voice his opinions. “She’s old, but she’s alive and interesting. She does so much good in the neighborhood.”

  Tessa laughed. “She likes to have her finger in every pie, if that’s what you mean.”

  It was not what he meant, but he did not pursue the subject, for suddenly he saw how foolish it was to argue with Tessa about her grandmother. Here they were, together, walking across Dunnian Moor—surely they could find something better to talk about!

  Tessa had evidently come to the same conclusion. “Isn’t the air marvelous!” she exclaimed. “You’re higher than we are at Ryddelton and the air seems quite different.”

  This changed the course of the conversation, and they talked of all sorts of matters that interested them and found agreement.

  “I don’t know where we’re going and I don’t care,” Tessa said suddenly. “We shall get into an awful row if we’re late for lunch, but who cares about that.”

  “We’re there,” replied Mark, laying a hand on her arm and pointing.

  They were standing at the top of a high sloping bank covered with thick grass and boulders. Below them ran the Rydd Water—it was slow and quiet here—slipping along smoothly with scarcely a ripple upon its silvery breast. Beyond the little river there was a small flat plateau ringed with trees and bushes and at one side of this plateau rose the ruined tower of Dunnian.

  “Oh!” exclaimed Tessa. “Oh, Mark, it’s a stage!”

  “A stage?” Mark asked in bewilderment.

  “Yes, look at it, Mark. Look at that flat piece of ground and the trees and bushes all around it. Can’t you see—it’s a perfect natural stage.”

  Mark had not thought of it like that, for the old Peel Tower was part of his life, and the flat piece of ground belonged to it. To Mark it spelled romance, the romance of past Dunnes who had lived there, who had been born and bred in the place, who had held it by strength of arms against their foes. He had hoped that Tessa would see it as he saw it; he had hoped she would sense the atmosphere of the past. His head was full of stories about the old Peel. It would have been nice to sit down on the bank and tell Tessa some of the stories.

  “Can’t you see what I mean?” Tessa asked a trifle impatiently.

  “Yes, it’s like a stage,” admitted Mark.

  “It’s a marvelous stage,” she declared. “You could use the old tower as a dressing room, couldn’t you?”

  “I suppose you could.”

  “It’s lovely,” Tessa said with a sigh. “It’s quite lovely. Let’s do A Midsummer Night’s Dream, shall we?”

  “You don’t really mean it, do you?” Mark asked in alarm.

  “Of course I mean it.”

  “But, Tessa—”

  “I love acting. It will be tremendous fun.”

  “Tessa, it’s—it’s a historical place,” said Mark. “I mean—”

  “But they wouldn’t mind,” declared Tessa, looking at him with wide eyes.

  “Who wouldn’t mind?”

  “The ghosts,” said Tessa. “Poor ghosts—they would like it. I know they would.”

  “Really, Tessa—” Mark began, but he could not help smiling.

  “Besides, we apologize to them,” Tessa said earnestly. “We apologize to them at the end of the play. You remember, Mark:

  “If we shadows have offended,

  Think but this, and all is mended—

  That you have but slumbered here

  While these visions did appear.”

  Mark laughed. He said, “That certainly is a handsome apology to the shadows of my ancestors, but all the same—”

  “It will be something to do,” interrupted Tessa eagerly. “It will be a lovely thing to do. Ryddelton is so dull, isn’t it?”

  Mark did not think it was dull.

  “Oh, but it is,” declared Tessa. “It’s terribly dull, but if we could have a play the time would pass like lightning. Let me see now, there’s you and Oliver and Edith and Joyce and me—of course Oliver and I would have to come over here every day and rehearse the scenes.”

  This was certainly a great inducement and for the first time Mark wavered. He said, “But, Tessa, I’m supposed to be working.”

  “You shall have a small part. Oh, what fun! Oliver will love it. He’s terribly keen on theatricals and very good too. We’ll make him Demetrius—”

  “But there are dozens of people in A Midsummer Night’s Dream!”

  “We’ll do scenes from it—just a few scenes. We’ll do the scenes that take place in the wood. Let me see—you had better be Lysander, I think.”

  “Honestly, Tessa—”

  “Don’t be stuffy,” she implored. “You know, Mark, when I want a thing I want it terribly—I just have to get it.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, now listen: the audience will sit on this bank, of course. They can sit on rugs. We’ll give the money to the Lord Roberts Memorial Fund.”

  “What money?”

  “The gate money, stupid. Heaps of people will come, people from the town. We’ll run a bus from Ryddelton… Look!” she cried, catching hold of his arm. “Look at the stage, Mark! Think of how beautiful it will be! I don’t suppose the play has ever been done in such a
perfect setting before.”

  Her eager face was so lovely that Mark was swept away. All at once the thing seemed feasible.

  He laughed.

  “You will!” she cried. “Oh, Mark, what a dear you are! Let’s go down and decide about everything.”

  They went down the slope together and crossed the river by some broken stepping stones—Tessa skipped across them like a mountain goat—and soon they were standing upon the little plateau looking about them and discussing ways and means.

  The “stage” was even more perfect on closer inspection—so Tessa declared. The turf was short and smooth, and there were a few big rocks that would do for sitting on. The bushes were thick and made splendid wings. At the entrance to the old tower there were some fallen stones that must be cleared away and some nettles that must be cut, but a man could do all that was needed in a few hours. Now that Mark had consented to the idea he was almost as keen as Tessa, for if they were going to do it at all they must do it properly.

  Tessa stood on the “stage” and tested it for sound. “It won’t do if there’s an echo,” she explained, but there was no echo at all; her voice floated across the little river as clear as a bell.

  “And in the wood where often you and I

  Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie,

  Emptying our bosoms of their counsels sweet

  There my Lysander and myself shall meet.”

  It was so beautiful that tears rose to Mark’s eyes. “Oh, Tessa!” he said huskily.

  She turned and smiled at him, holding out her hands.

  “Oh, Tessa, how lovely you are!” cried Mark.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Deb

  Deb had been looking forward to this summer eagerly, but now the summer was here and it was not going as she had expected. She was not enjoying it much. It’s because of the play, thought Deb. When the play is over everyone will settle down.

  She had never heard the beginning of the idea, but all at once everyone was talking about the play. It ousted the wedding as a topic of conversation. They were all delighted at the idea of acting a play, but unfortunately they were not unanimous as to what the play should be. Edith wanted a modern comedy and was backed up by Oliver; Tessa was determined to have scenes from A Midsummer Night’s Dream; Aunt Alice was eager that they should act a play, but she wanted one with music, and especially with songs in it for Joyce—Joyce was having singing lessons and it seemed a pity to waste this opportunity to show off her voice.

  “She has such a pretty voice,” declared Alice, smiling at her second daughter affectionately.

  “Could we do Faust?” asked Joyce, who had suddenly visualized herself as Marguerite, singing the “Jewel Song” to an enraptured audience.

  “My dear girl,” said Mark impatiently. “What on earth do you think we are? Who ever heard of amateurs attempting Faust?”

  “It must be something we can do out of doors,” said Tessa. “It must be A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

  “It’s so hackneyed,” declared Oliver.

  “It’s the sort of thing schoolchildren do,” said Edith.

  The battle raged for several days and then all at once it was over. Tessa knew exactly what she wanted, so she won. The others were still hunting for a modern comedy (with good parts for five people) that could be played out of doors without any artificial properties, but their efforts grew more and more feeble.

  “It’s no good,” said Oliver at last. “We can’t find anything suitable.”

  “There isn’t anything suitable,” Tessa declared. “If you don’t want The Dream you’ll have to write a play yourself.”

  She was so sure they would come around that she was already at work upon the play, molding it to her requirements. She eliminated Act I, because it had to be played indoors, but took some of the speeches out of it and grafted them into Act II. Some of the speeches were too long (in Tessa’s opinion), so she cut them down. She found her self-appointed task very fascinating.

  They were all having tea on the terrace at Dunnian when the matter was finally settled. The whole family was there, including Douglas Rewden, who had come over from Sharme to discuss arrangements for the wedding and was somewhat surprised to discover that this hitherto absorbing subject had been shelved.

  “Now that it’s settled we must go ahead,” Tessa said happily, and she explained her ideas. Debbie discovered that she was to be Oberon and Celia was to be Puck. Celia would make a very good Puck, thought Debbie, but she was not so sure of her own ability to play the Fairy King. She had not expected to be included in the cast.

  “Of course you must be in it,” said Mark. “You can do it beautifully, Debbie. We need you.”

  “I suppose you’ve cast us all,” Oliver said with a grin. “May I ask what character I’m to represent.”

  “You’re Demetrius,” replied Tessa. “Mark is Lysander.”

  “I shall be Helena,” Edith and Joyce said together with one voice.

  “I don’t know—” Tessa began.

  “You’re engaged,” Joyce said quickly. “It’s my turn to have some fun. I want to be Helena.” She struck an attitude and declared:

  “I will not trust you, I,

  Nor longer stay in your curst company.”

  “I’m the eldest,” said Edith.

  “I think Edith had better be Helena,” Oliver said.

  “Then I shall be Hermia,” declared Joyce.

  “I don’t think that would do,” Tessa said firmly. “I must be Hermia because I’m small and dark. You know the bit where Lysander says, ‘Away, you Ethiope,’ and Helena says, ‘Though she be but little, she is fierce.’ Hermia is always small and dark.”

  “Joyce would make a splendid Titania,” said Oliver, smiling.

  “I won’t,” declared Joyce. “Titania is such a fool. I’ll be Oberon and Debbie can be Titania if she likes.”

  “Yes, of course,” Debbie said quickly. She did not mind what part she had as long as the others were satisfied.

  “Are you sure, Deb?” asked Mark.

  “I’d rather be Titania,” replied Deb, nodding.

  “That’s settled then,” declared Tessa, who was anxious to get things straight and never lost an opportunity of fixing a point firmly in everyone’s mind. Deb wondered, afterward, how often she had heard Tessa say, “That’s settled then,” before passing on to some other debatable point.

  “What about Quince and Bottom and all of them?” asked Oliver.

  “We can’t have them,” replied Tessa. “There’s nobody to play them.”

  “There’s Rewden,” Oliver said. “Rewden could be Bottom and then we could have the bit where Titania wakes up and sees Bottom. It’s awfully good theater and would amuse the townspeople.”

  Deb was horrified at this suggestion, for she had read the play and was aware of the extravagant things she would have to say to Mr. Rewden. (She had been told to call him Douglas, but she had not accomplished this difficult feat.) How could she possibly put her arms around his neck and say that she would “Kiss thy large fair ears, my gentle joy”?

  Celia had read the play too. She leaned across and whispered, “Deb, his ears are large and fair.”

  “Hush,” Deb said sternly.

  “What about the fairies—Peaseblossom and the others,” someone inquired.

  “We can do without them. I’ll take out all that,” said Tessa, turning over the pages of her book and making rapid notes.

  “You’ll need one fairy at least,” said Edith. “Perhaps Mildred Raeworth would do. She’s very small for her age.”

  “It ought to be called ‘Tessa’s Dream,’” said Oliver, laughing.

  “I’m only taking out a few little bits—”

  “I’m sure you’re doing it beautifully, dear,” Alice said kindly.

  “I mean,” expla
ined Oliver. “I mean, if any of the audience has ever seen or read or heard of William Shakespeare’s play he may feel that he’s been cheated and want his money back.”

  Alice said with a bewildered air, “I’m sure Tessa will give him his money back if he wants it.”

  They all laughed. Alice was not aware that she had said anything funny, but she smiled as if she had meant to. She found it increasingly difficult to understand the young—and especially difficult to understand Oliver. When they were all talking together like this it was almost as if they were talking in a foreign language with which she was only partially acquainted. She sighed and thought of Humphrey. Humphrey was so easy to understand.

  “I’ll be Bottom,” Billy said suddenly. “You’ve forgotten me, but I want to be in it. We did that play at Welland House, so I know all about it.”

  “Really?” inquired Oliver, who disliked Billy and never lost an opportunity of baiting him. “You know all about it, do you? How lucky for us to have your knowledge at our disposal. Perhaps you would tell us what it’s all about.”

  “I thought you knew,” Billy replied in surprise. “You were talking as if you did. It’s about two lots of lovers who get lost in the Wood of Arden—near Athens, you know. It’s Midsummer Night, of course, and the fairies are having a party. The lovers have come a long way and they’re very tired, so they lie down and go to sleep. Well then, you see, Puck comes along and goes around scattering magic poppy dust in people’s eyes, and when they wake up, they fall madly in love with the first person they see—and of course it’s the wrong person. They all get tangled up like anything. It’s a very funny play.”

  Oliver was completely silenced by this masterly résumé of the plot and it was left for Alice to say, very fondly, “You certainly seem to know all about it, Billy.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, I do. I was Puck in the school play, but I’d like to be Bottom now if nobody minds. It will be fun wearing the donkey’s head. Douglas had better be Theseus. You’ll need Theseus to explain everything at the end when the lovers get unmagicked and fall into each other’s arms.”