Page 41 of To Marry and to Meddle
Never mind the fact that the single thing she had wished for more than anything else, which she had finally achieved—marriage to a man of her own choosing—had come about thanks to her tossing sweetness and propriety to the wind.
The rarity with which she adopted this tone made it particularly effective, and Diana and Violet subsided at once in their protests. Indeed, both were eyeing her with faint surprise—not that Emily could blame them.
She took a deep, steadying breath, and continued. “I’m perfectly happy with the arrangement Julian and I have come to for our marriage, and I think it will work out quite well between us. However,” she added, then hesitated. “I don’t wish to only be a society hostess for the rest of my life. I want to see him at work, I want to see the theater—it is what he has dedicated nearly a decade of his life to, after all. And it’s so novel for a man of our class to actually have employment that I must confess I’m curious.”
“Do you not think you could convince him?” Violet asked. “He doesn’t seem like a terribly unreasonable man.”
“He’s stubborn where the Belfry is concerned,” Emily said, sighing. “He can’t be convinced to let me accompany him to a place that he thinks would—”
“Soil you?” Violet suggested.
“Exactly. Especially if I was not just there to visit—if I visited, as I wish to do, with the aim of helping him work outhow, precisely, to make the Belfry more appealing to proper ladies.”
“If he doesn’t want you to visit behind the scenes,” Diana said slowly, a speculative gleam in her eye, “what if you presented an alternative that was even worse?”
“What do you mean?” Emily asked with a faint pang of alarm. She’d been friends with Diana for long enough to know to proceed with extreme caution when she looked like this.
“Belfry is all in a tizzy about this actress fleeing town, isn’t he?” Diana asked.
“Yes,” Emily said. “How did you—”
“Belfry mentioned it when Penvale and I came to dinner, don’t you recall?” Diana said. “Penvale asked him how things were at the theater, and Belfry turned properly brooding, said something about how he was less than pleased with the understudy preparing to take on Miss Simmons’s role, and that he wished he could find someone more suited to the part.”
“That’s true,” Emily said cautiously—she herself had had more than one conversation with Julian on the topic.
“What if,” Diana said, a note of glee in her voice, “you suggested thatyoutake on the role instead?”
Violet, who had just taken a large bite of scone, promptly choked,and the proceedings were momentarily interrupted by Diana reaching over to thump her heartily on the back. Once Violet was no longer in imminent danger of death, Emily was able to reply.
“You cannot be serious.”
“Of course I’m not,” Diana agreed.
“Because—I beg your pardon?” Emily asked, feeling somewhat lost.
“Of course I’m not serious,” Diana explained patiently. “You, obviously, would never dream of appearing onstage—no lady of our class would, if she didn’t wish her reputation to be irrevocably destroyed. Furthermore, darling Emily, I don’t really think you’d be well suited to a career as an actress. No offense.”
Emily couldn’t understand why on earth she would possibly be offended by this, but didn’t interrupt.
“But,” Diana continued, “we don’t need you toactuallyhave delusions of treading the boards—we just need Belfry tothinkyou have.”
“Diana,” Violet said, “Belfry’s not a complete idiot. He won’t believe for one moment that Emily actually wishes to appear onstage.”
“But Emily’s been acting quite out of character lately,” Diana insisted. “Think about it—marrying a man without her parents’ permission! A man with a scandalous reputation, no less. A man who’s barely respectable! Does that sound like the Emily Turner we know and love?”
“No,” Violet admitted slowly, still sounding uncertain.
Diana turned to pat Emily’s arm. “I mean it in no way as an insult, darling,” Diana hastened to reassure her. “I personallyadorethis new Emily. But you must admit, it’s all been quite unexpected.”
“I suppose,” Emily agreed. “But—”
“Well, is it really such a leap, then, to convince Belfry that you’ve taken it into your head to try your hand at acting?”
“Yes,” Emily said exasperated. “I really think it is. And besides—to what end?”
“Well,” Diana said, a crafty light in her eyes, “if Belfry thinks that you have dreams of appearing onstage, then mightn’t he look a little more kindly upon the notion of you simply accompanying him to the theater on occasion, by comparison?”
“You mean,” Emily said, cottoning, “convince him to give me what I really want, by tricking him into thinking I want something much worse?”
