Suitors and Sabotage(50)

Imogene nodded, looking out the window to the slanting sheets of rain, sighed, and sat beside her friend. “After a lull of two centuries, the ghost of … who is it that is supposed to haunt the tower again?”

“Lady Ester—I believe. Jilted by a lover and all that. Threw herself from the window. I believe that’s the story.”

“Yes, I think you might have the right of it. Though Cousin Clara never believed the drivel. She left the room unused because it is drafty and cramped—no other reason. Still, I am fairly certain there will be a visit from the netherworld tonight.”

“Rattling chains?”

“And howls, I would suspect. Jake couldn’t have given up mischief entirely—Percy won’t let him. They both have much to learn about being true gentlemen.”

“Not like Ernest and Ben. They are well versed in the state.”

Smiling to herself, Imogene agreed.

“Ah, there you are,” Jake interrupted, calling from the doorway as he advanced on them. “Wondered where you had run off to. I have a plan, a great plan. Actually, it was my father’s suggestion, but I think it a splendid way to spend a rainy day.” He waved a book and several pieces of paper through the air.

“Oh?” Imogene looked up suspiciously. Percy and Jake seemed determined to interrupt their affairs for the purpose of keeping Emily and her occupied. While the concept was gallant, the execution was not. They had never required such attentions before, and they certainly did not now. It was more overbearing than anything else.

“Thank you, no,” Emily said, and then turned back to Imogene. “I have a book you might be interested in, called The Confessional of the Black Penitents—”

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream is much more exciting,” Jake interrupted yet again.

“So kind of you. But I have already read it.” Emily’s diction was exceedingly correct, though it was doubtful Jake was aware that he had stepped onto thin ice.

“Yes, but have you performed it?” He passed her a piece of paper. “You would make a most excellent fairy queen.”

That caught Emily’s attention. “Titania? What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?”

“Exactly. We could perform it for the parents.”

“Not the entire play, surely. That would take a fortnight of rehearsals.”

“No, indeed. What would be the fun in that? No, just the scene where Puck puts the flower juice in Titania’s eyes and she awakes to fall in love with Bottom—and his ass’s head. Comedy at its finest.”

“Let me guess, you would play Bottom. Prancing around, playing the fool.”

“I think it appropriate, don’t you?”

Emily laughed as she tilted her head to look around Jake. “And you? What part would you choose, Percy?”

“An attendant,” he grumbled. “Mustardseed … or Cobweb. It matters not, as long as I have little to say.”

“Easily done.” Jake’s voice grew louder with his enthusiasm. “Father chose Puck for you, Percy, but now that Ernest is here, he can play Robin Goodfellow.”

“Ernest to play a mischievous fairy? I think that should be Ben’s role, don’t you, Imogene?” Emily questioned.

“Mayhap a better fit.” Imogene grinned; she thought it most appropriate. Warming to this idea of hilarity and high jinks, she sat forward. “Perhaps Quince for Ernest? And me? What role for me?”

“Not to worry, Imogene, we would not ask you to stand in front of company and spout Shakespeare. It would be unkind,” Jake said magnanimously.

“Well, no, I think it would be fine.” Imogene’s sudden enthusiasm ebbed. “A small role?”

Jake shook his head, patted Imogene on the shoulder, and shoved the book in her face. “We need you to give us our lines.”

Imogene lifted her cheeks, took the book, and opened it to the marked page. “Act three, scene one,” she began, and then looked up. “The wood. Titania lying asleep.”

Emily closed her eyes and gracefully collapsed against the back of the settee.

Jake pulled a chair closer, and Percy harrumphed as he dropped into a chair on the other side of the room.

“Speak up,” he admonished as he turned his head to stare at the unlit fireplace.

By the time Ben and Ernest returned to their company, the younger generation had removed to the music room for their rehearsal. The parents had come into the drawing room and proceeded to complain of the hubbub. It was too much for those wishing to have a little peace and quiet on a miserable day. Mr. Tabard grinned to see them all so well occupied, taking up his suggestion with great eagerness.

Not surprisingly, Ben was pleased with the idea of putting on a play—even if not thrilled with those in the company. Ernest was less so. As time went on, Imogene became happier with her duties. Rarely did she have the opportunity to tell everyone what to say and do and correct them when they got it wrong—which was fairly often.

Perhaps the most satisfying aspect of directing for Imogene was the ability to stare at Ben without censure or notice. She could watch as he flailed about, attempting to emulate a fairy … until Emily suggested swooping gestures were more dignified. She could enjoy his figure and form as he pranced from one side of the room to the other. And she could observe how he avoided speaking directly to Jake—and Percy—until he shook his head at some inner thought and then made an effort to ignore their mockery and jibes.