Suitors and Sabotage(71)
Imogene.
“Imogene is really looking forward to sketching at the ruin. Do you think we will be able to go tomorrow?” Emily asked, breaking into his effort of not noticing Imogene.
“Yes, of course,” he said with a nod and a ghost of a smile. It meant another day of studiously not noticing Imogene. “As long as the weather holds. We keep a skiff on the beach for that very purpose.”
“It’s only a short row over,” Ernest added. “We can bring a basket and have an alfresco lunch in the shade.”
“That sounds promising,” Jake said from Ben’s other side. “Might we join you?” He glanced across the table to Percy and then back to Ben.
“Six? No, no, I think not.” Grandfather raised his voice to join the conversation from the head of the table. “Too many. The boat can take five at the very most … but six … Hmm, I think not. We could ask Lord Brennan if he might lend us his dory later in the week. Takes eight, I believe. Though you might need an oarsman, as the darn thing is heavy and a bit unwieldy.”
“Might Jake go in Ben’s stead?” Mr. Tabard asked. “After all, Ben knows the ruin, and yet Jake … well—” The surprised expressions brought Mr. Tabard’s reasoning to an abrupt halt. “Oh, that wasn’t well done,” he said as if talking to himself. “I beg your pardon.”
“Not at all, Mr. Tabard,” Grandmother said with an indulgent smile. “I’m sure Ben would be more than happy to offer his seat to Jake.”
“Yes, of course—” Ben nodded without any hesitation.
“No, no, thank you but no. Percy and I will find some mischief or another, not to worry. It was just a passing thought, not a great ambition. Definitely not worth ousting Ben or disturbing your neighbor.”
“If you are certain.” Ben sighed. It would have given him an excellent excuse to avoid Imogene’s company for the better part of the day.
“Oh, absolutely certain.”
Ben sighed yet again and studiously ignored Imogene’s forlorn smile. He hoped his brother had noticed—perhaps Ernest could put everything to rights.
*
THAT EVENING SAW Imogene laughing and smiling with the best of them, to Ben’s great relief—not that he noticed. The youngest members of the house finally attempted, stress the word attempted, to put on act three, scene one from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Percy and Jake had returned from fishing earlier than the beachcombers had returned from collecting, and in the interim they decorated the ballroom. With Grandmother’s approval, huge vases had been filled with flowers from the garden and placed strategically around one end of the room. A settee had been brought in for Titania to use as her resting place—so that Emily would not be required to recline on the floor. And the chairs had been brought away from the walls into the center of the room. A very basic theater, there was no doubt, but with imagination—a great deal of imagination—one could envision a deep forest glen and home of the woodland fairies.
Percy and Jake had brought a few props with them to add to the atmosphere, the best of which was the head of a hobbyhorse that Jake, playing Bottom, used as the ass’s head. Many lines were forgotten, forcing Imogene to call them out from the sidelines, and comedy abounded—though much of the jocularity could not be attributed to Shakespeare.
When all was said and done, the audience was duly impressed. And the actors had had a great time. The night ended with smiles and “good evenings”—though Grandfather had to be awoken so he, too, might retire to his bed.
*
THE NEXT DAY dawned into a disobligingly sunny day with little wind and few clouds. Most people would call it an excellent day—but Ben was in no mood for excellent. The excursion was to go ahead as planned. Hours in Imogene’s exclusive company did not bode well for his patience. There was a danger that he would fly at her for something inconsequential or find her adorable and forget his anger—neither was in the least appealing.
Cook had prepared a delicious alfresco meal, full of fruit and tarts, cheeses and breads of all sorts, and divided it into two baskets for Emily and Imogene to carry in one hand, a bailing bucket and blanket in the other. Ernest and Ben heaved a set of oars, each on their shoulders, and they set off. Emily and Ernest chatted as they strolled down the lane toward the cliffs, seemingly oblivious of the heavy silence of Imogene … and yes, Ben as well.
Once on the beach, they set off in the opposite direction from the day before toward the overturned skiff sitting six or seven feet from the water. Neap tide was within the hour, so they would not have to haul the skiff far. With a practiced move, Ben and Ernest overturned the small wooden boat, untied it from the post embedded in the rock, and dragged it to the water one foot at a time. Once the back end was floating, they set the oars and food inside—and then helped Imogene and Emily aboard. Taking off his coat, Ben draped it atop Ernest’s in the bow.
“I don’t believe I have ever been out on the ocean before,” Emily said with excitement as she lost her balance in the dip and lift of the waves. She landed with a thump on the center seat and giggled.
Imogene smiled as she took Ernest’s hand and shifted to the stern seat. He had to slosh through the water to deliver Imogene to the back, but he did not appear to mind. Emily clung to the oarsman seat for a moment and then dove for the back … nearly upsetting the whole. She dropped down beside Imogene and giggled again—in a thin and forced manner.