Chapter Eight #2
Sweeping up her work again, Mrs. Dere merely raised an eyebrow.
“You have said it all, Frances. You are a baron’s cousin.
Whether you are poor or not poor, that cannot be taken from you.
And any match you make will reflect upon both him and me.
Therefore, yes, I do hope for a distinguished match for you. ”
Perhaps, if it comes to it, Frances thought wildly, I might pretend to love Mr. Midgecomb!
Then, if he and Jane engage themselves, I could claim my heart was broken.
Mrs. Dere would surely have to excuse me under the circumstances, if ever Mr. Hearne or Mr. Tilson got it in his head to offer for me.
The plan, rudimentary as it was, calmed her. It would be better than pretending affection for Mr. Tilson, at any rate. For if she flattered Mr. Tilson, he might come to think fondly of her, and that would never do.
Yes. She would keep the Midgecomb plan in reserve.
And perhaps it need never be drawn upon, for it wasn’t as if anyone at all was in love with her.
Mrs. Dere stitched away for some minutes as Frances meditated. Then she looked up again. “You say Mr. Midgecomb read with you last night, Frances, but did Mr. Hearne and Mr. Tilson not stand up as well?”
“They did not. Mr. Midgecomb said he was perfectly familiar with their capabilities and had no need to hear them.”
“Mm. Well. You will hear them soon enough, when the playmaking begins.”
Instantly Frances’ anxiety over Mr. Hearne was forgotten. “Do you mean you approve of our proposed undertaking, then, Mrs. Dere?” she cried.
“I do. It will give an easy, comfortable direction to the party, occupying any idle hour. For in addition to rehearsals, there will be sewing and carpentry and myriad tasks. And when we all gather, there will be speeches and scenes to be heard. I suppose we must order a few more copies of the play, or how will everyone learn his part? I will send Harker or Ogle to Fletcher’s in Oxford without delay. ”
“Oh, madam, thank you! Thank you! I cannot wait to tell them at Greenwood Hall.”
“I have not read the play in some time, but do let me know when Mr. Midgecomb has cast all the roles,” Mrs. Dere pursued. “I suppose you will be the Titania to his Oberon?”
“Yes, and the Hippolyta to his Theseus, he explained. With only eleven players, many will be required to play dual roles. But he had to leave off deciding other parts until we had your approval, so I suppose the rest will be settled this very day.”
“Oh, Frances,” Jane Eveleigh breathed, clutching her hands an hour later.
The ladies were gathered on the far side of the terrace where a structure of trellises covered by climbing roses and ivy formed a comfortable bower.
“Everyone else will be delighted, but I confess it strikes fear in me. I hardly slept, thinking about it.”
“That makes no sense, Jane, for you read Gray’s ‘Elegy’ very well last night, and the play will be exactly the same people, plus a few more whom you already know.”
“I know it’s nonsensical, but I can’t help it. There’s something about being on a stage which feels very different.”
“Stage—pooh! It will probably be just one end of the long gallery, curtained off. I don’t suppose we will even be elevated above the dozen people in the audience.”
“But even without a raised platform, when I stood up to read my knees were shaking a little. I’m not so brave as you, nor even as Annabel!”
“I think it will be splendid,” announced Maria stoutly. “I only hope Mr. Midgecomb will not think, because I am younger, that I can only be a fairy or a mechanical.”
There was no time for further discussion, however, for they saw the young men approaching across the lawn, Peter and Gordon and George Denver gamboling ahead, pitching a ball back and forth between them.
Miss Jarvis fluttered her handkerchief, which Frances thought entirely unnecessary, as there was no way into the house but to pass by them and the tempting refreshments.
Willy nilly her gaze found Mr. Hearne, whose stride was slower but longer, and whom she liked better at this remove because then she need not see the vapidness of his expression.
From a distance she could admire his firm, upright figure and the grace of his movements, more pleasing than Mr. Midgecomb’s stiffer carriage or Mr. Tilson’s plodding or George Denver’s tendency to trip over his own feet.
Then the moment passed; his features grew in clarity and insipidity, and Maria was calling, “Yo ho! Mrs. Dere has given her approval for the play!”
Peter and Gordy gave a great whoop, rushing up the terrace steps, and the other gentlemen appeared hardly less keen.
“I told you Frances would prevail with her,” Peter declared, when courtesies had been exchanged. “I’ve tried some of the same tricks with Mama, but I don’t seem to be able to keep at it as Frances does.”
“Tricks!” she protested, reddening.
“You know…always agreeing with her and yes-ma’am-no-ma’am-ing.”
“Stop at once, Peter! You make me sound like the worst sort of sycophant. As it happens, Mrs. Dere thought it was—a charming idea, and she very much looks forward to seeing both our progress and our results. She was even so kind as to send to Fletcher’s in the High Street for additional copies of the play. ”
“That is indeed kind,” Mr. Midgecomb said distractedly. Miss Eveleigh sat on a wooden bench with an empty space beside her, but before he could gather courage to saunter over and claim it, Gordon dropped onto it.
“It’s only the truth, Frances,” her brother said, taking a sip from her lemonade glass. “Everyone knows, if there’s anything to be got out of her, it’s best to go through you.”
“I was there at Perryfield, too,” insisted Maria, “though she sent me away to go and practice on the pianoforte. But she told Frances she wants to know who will play which parts.”
“Yes, yes!” cried the boys.
“Can you cast it now, Midgecomb?” asked George Denver. “I hope I won’t have too many speeches because the long vac isn’t the time to spend racking one’s brains.”
Mr. Midgecomb here glanced at Mr. Hearne, but the latter did not appear to be paying attention and was staring up into the tangle of roses and ivy.
“Er—Hearne? Adam?”
“Titania,” Mr. Hearne said, nodding sagely.
Frances straightened, but Mr. Midgecomb only said, “Titania? Yes, what about her? We already know Miss Barstow will play Titania.”
“Titania has a bower,” Mr. Hearne answered, pointing into the foliage. “And Oberon as well.”
“Ahem! So they do,” Mr. Midgecomb coughed. “We will have to try to construct ones—er—half as delightful as this one. But, say, Adam, let me have that paper.”
Mr. Hearne blinked at him. “Paper?”
“Yes. The paper.”
With another sage nod, Mr. Hearne began slowly and methodically to turn out each pocket of his nankeen summer trousers, inspecting them all with care, while everyone watched as if spellbound.
First the waistband pocket. Empty. Then the pocket in the right-side seam.
Empty as well. The third in the left-side seam—nothing but the unbleached linen of which it was constructed.
Only when he was struggling with the tiny fob pocket did Mr. Tilson at last spring forward, choking, “We can’t wait all day, you blockhead. It’s in your coat pocket.”
The ladies gave muffled gasps at this unkindness—why, Mr. Hearne could not help his slowness!—but they let it pass when the coat pocket indeed yielded the desired sheet of paper, which Mr. Tilson snatched away and gave to Mr. Midgecomb.
“Here we are,” said the latter, after a violent clearing of his throat. “As it happens, we did hope Miss Barstow would succeed in persuading Mrs. Dere to give her permission, and therefore we took the liberty of producing a cast list.”
The suspense was palpable, the ladies and children sitting forward.
“A cast of eleven,” Mr. Midgecomb resumed. “And I had better ask, Miss Barstow, if your application to Mrs. Langworthy was successful as well, that she take on the smallest parts possible?”
“She has agreed,” answered Frances, “though she said she is far more comfortable sewing costumes or helping others by hearing their speeches.”
“Capital! While she may find herself onstage in several scenes, Ad—that is, I have counted her speeches, and she does not say above eight brief sentences altogether in the parts of the fairy Cobweb and the tailor Robin Starveling, who also plays ‘Moonshine’ within the ‘rude mechanicals’ play. Nor is she the only fairy in a double role as a mechanical. All the fairies and mechanicals are doubled, save Bottom, who is only Bottom.”
“And who plays Bottom, sir?” asked Gordon. He tried not to sound overeager, but there was no denying the comic Bottom was a choice role.
“Oh—er—we will get to that. I’m afraid I began wrong-end foremost. Let me begin at the beginning. So, as I said, Miss Barstow will be Titania, as well as Hippolyta, to my Oberon and Theseus.”
“And your Puck?” asked Frances, her color high. “Who might that be?” Now she, too, wished Bottom might be played by her brother, for she remembered that Titania woke from drinking a love potion “and straightway loved an ass.” If she must fawn over someone, it had better be Gordon!
Mr. Midgecomb appeared no more comfortable, the paper slipping from his grasp and having to be retrieved. “Puck. Yes. Puck, surprisingly, for so important a role, will also be doubled with Philostrate, Theseus’ master of the revels, and both have been assigned to…Miss Eveleigh.”
Jane inhaled sharply. “Oh, dear me! Oh, no, if you please! I don’t like to be troublesome, but might I also request tiny little parts like Mrs. Langworthy?”
“You will manage it, I daresay,” was her mother’s crisp rejoinder.
Frances leaned to press her hand. “I will help you, Jane.”
“You must, Frances! Oh! But are you certain, Mr. Midgecomb? Oughtn’t Puck to be a nice, mischievous boy? Masters Gordon or Peter, perhaps?”
“We will all be happy to help you, Miss Eveleigh,” Mr. Midgecomb pleaded.
“And we have other parts in mind for them. See? Gordon must be Mustardseed—” (“A fairy!” Gordon protested, while Peter tried to hide his snickers.) “—as well as Tom Snout who is the Wall in the mechanicals’ play.
You are rather diminutive to be the wall, Miss Eveleigh.
And Peter we have as Peaseblossom the fairy and Peter Quince the carpenter, both of which you might manage, but he must play Hermia’s father in addition, and that would never do for you! ”
Seeing Jane had no possible escape, Frances did what she could to turn the company’s attention from her. “May we see the paper, Mr. Midgecomb? News like this is perhaps best shared at a pop.”
As she expected, when he complied, laying the sheet upon the refreshment table, chairs were nearly overturned in the haste to see it.
“Hermia!” crowed Maria, as delighted as Jane had been dismayed. “I am to be fierce little Hermia and the fairy Moth and Snug, who plays the lion! How many changes of costume I will have! And, Miss Jarvis, we are to quarrel with everyone and run about, for you are Helena.”
“Helena? And I quarrel with everyone?” echoed poor Miss Jarvis, who had been lifting her patch to try to make sense of the list with her good eye. “My word! I don’t know about that.” Squinting, she gasped. “Oh, me—there’s more. I’m to be Flute as well? Two parts! Who is Flute, pray?”
“One of the mechanicals,” explained Frances, “which will be great fun for you, Miss Jarvis, for they are so amusing when they stage ‘Pyramus and Thisbe.’”
“And Mr. Hearne is to be Bottom?” wondered Maria, unable to keep the incredulity from her voice.
Frances’ stomach fell somewhere about her knees.
She was to caress Mr. Hearne’s cheeks (even if he wore a donkey’s head) and kiss his ears and wind her arms about him and call him her “sweet love”?
And why on earth should he be given the play’s most comic role in the first place?
Did a man not need to be clever, to play an ass?
Striving to school her features, her eyes flew with everyone’s to look at him.
“What? What’s that?” he asked amiably.
“Ahem. Midge has put you down for Bottom,” uttered Mr. Tilson. “As you will recall.”
If he did he gave no sign of it, but he smiled. “‘Down for Bottom.’ There’s a pun, eh, Tilson? I will have to get to work directly.” Tapping his temple as he had in the library, his gaze drifted to meet Frances’. “Things take a very long time to get in, but once they do, they are never out again.”