Page 19 of Miss Dramatic
Her ladyship held forth about a sailors’ home in Bristol she wanted to open before Christmas and was as enthusiastic on her topic as Lady Iris had been regarding peppermint. All the while, Rose nodded and murmured and asked appropriate questions, but her mind was consumed with a different puzzle.
Gavin DeWitt hadn’t needed her money.
Why did that realization matter so much?
ChapterFive
Phillip could be droll when tipsy.
Gavin suspected he was the only person in the whole world to know that fact about his lordship. They’d traveled this towpath on foot, on horseback, pushing barrows of rocks to build a sheep ford, and by moonlight after a few too many pints of Mrs. Pevinger’s best.
Phillip wasn’t remotely droll now.
“Tavistock means well,” Phillip said as the last of the pebbles went into the Twid. “Only the best of intentions inspired him to hire this troupe of actors. One must give credit where due and make allowances where necessary. He cannot help that he’s the marquess.”
“Ourmarquess,” Gavin said, because in Crosspatch Corners, one did not miss an opportunity to stress the possessive where the ranking peer was concerned.
Phillip took Gavin by the arm and resumed walking. “Tavistock is your sister’s husband, too, lest you forget.”
“How could I? Tavistock has turned a once-articulate, ferociously efficient woman into a lady who smiles pleasantly at the middle distance, whowaftswhen she used to march from room to room, and who gathers up a bouquet of wallflowers and calls it a house party.”
Phillip’s steps slowed. “Whatever else these ladies are, DeWitt, they are not wallflowers. I have no doubt Miss Zinnia Peasegood was reciting the royal succession without a single mistake by the age of two. Lady Iris has a prodigious grasp of medicinals. Lady Fern Linwood can describe for you, to the last tiara on the oldest dowager, what was worn at any social event she’s attended. These women pay attention.”
Phillip had always been the quiet neighbor, content to mind his patch, but he’d also read more widely on agriculture than anybody else in Crosspatch. He ordered books from Paris and London. He corresponded with botanists and horticulturalists from all over the Continent.
He would know astute observers when he saw them.
“Amaryllis is in love,” Gavin said as a squirrel raced across the towpath. “She hasn’t gone completely witless since marrying Tavistock. She would hardly surround herself with ninnyhammers and blockheads.”
“Tavistock has turned blockheaded on us.”
“He’s in love too. I expect the condition is permanent, though the outward symptoms might moderate in another few decades. We need only be patient.” Gavin did not envy Tavistock the foolishness of his infatuation, not much anyway.
Good God… actors in residence at Crosspatch Corners.Professionalactors.
A soaking in the Twid was too good forour marquess. Any dramatist could see that Gavin was owed revenge upon Tavistock. Mandatory attendance at an extended Dorning family gathering might serve. Tavistock’s step-mother’s family numbered in the thousands, and they were alllively.
“Then you aren’t annoyed that Tavistock has hired a troupe of traveling players to entertain the ladies?” Phillip asked, tugging Gavin to a stop. “Lady Tavistock has no idea of this plan. He thinks to surprise her.”
The evening light turned the surface of the Twid variously molten white, golden, coppery, and sable. The river sought the sea, and for one instant, Gavin’s heart leaped toward his former profession.
“They’ll do Portia’s speech for the ladies.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Act 4, scene 1.” Gavin adopted the measured pacing of the barrister before a jury, and began with a gracious gesture toward the evening sky.
“‘The quality of mercy is not strain’d. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven on the place beneath…’” He ceased his playacting. “Shakespeare was forever stressing the notion of forgiveness, particularly from those in positions of power.” NoTaming of the Shrewfor this audience, though, and certainly not Kate’s preachy and saccharine final monologue.
Even Shakespeare hadn’t been above pandering to the drunks in the stalls.
Phillip scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Tavistock has hired your old outfit. He thinks to reunite you with your acting friends, entertain the ladies, and be the helpful husband. That you might not want to see your former confreres never occurred to him.”
A bullfrog began his homely evening hymn.
“Which… former… confreres?”
“The first bunch you were with—up north. They typically spend summers in the spa towns, and Tavistock caught them between engagements.”
