The Girl in the Gatehouse (25 page)

Mariah glanced across the drawing room yet again. How strange it seemed that Mrs. Pitt should be there in the gatehouse, seated in the best chair. The mantel clock struck the hour and Mariah jumped. The woman made her nervous. She glanced instead at the others in the room, Dixon and four young people from the poorhouse – Lizzy, George, Sam, and Maggie. The children were clearly nervous as well.

Mariah stood as Captain Bryant and Mr. Hart entered.

“Bryant and Hart reporting for duty,” the captain said.

Hart added a cheeky salute.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Mariah said, hands primly clasped. “Thank you for coming.”

At that moment, Chaucer loped down the stairs and across the floor, leaving a trail of inky paw prints. Had she forgotten to close her inkpot again?

“Chaucer, no!” Mariah lunged to pick up the cat, all poise forgotten, but he quickly skulked through the kitchen door and out of sight.

Dixon rose. “Never mind, Miss Mariah, I shall attend to it. You go on.”

“Thank you.” Mariah pushed a stray hair from her face and attempted to recover her dignity. “You gentlemen know Miss Dixon and Miss Barnes, I believe.”

The officers bowed and Lizzie curtsied, a becoming pink rising to her cheeks. Dixon was too busy wiping up the ink to acknowledge the men’s gesture.

Mariah continued. “And this is Mrs. Pitt, matron of Honora House, who has kindly graced us with her presence.”

Mrs. Pitt dipped her head in condescension.

“And our other players here are George, Sam, and Maggie. Everyone, please take a seat and be comfortable. George, do you mind sitting on the floor? Thank you.”

Hart sat in George’s place, but Captain Bryant remained standing. The crowded drawing room had never felt so small.

Mariah took a deep breath and addressed the group. “Miss Dixon and I have decided upon a selection of
Aesop’s Fables
for our performance. ‘The Peacock’s Complaint,’ ‘The Lion, the Bear, and the Fox,’ and ‘The Fox and the Crow.’ ”

Mr. Hart raised his hand. “I shall take whichever part has the fewest lines.”

Lizzy giggled.

Mariah said, “Actually, I had two parts in mind for you, Mr. Hart.”

“And what role shall you play, Miss Aubrey?” Captain Bryant asked. “The peacock? You certainly have the feathers for it.”

Mariah hesitated, for a brief second thinking the captain had complimented her, but then he gestured toward a pile of feathers on the table. She had neglected to gather them up before the children arrived and then had forgotten all about them. “Oh! Yes, a lot of feathers. I fear I am very particular about my quills.”

“You must write a great deal of letters.”

“Yes. A great deal.” She looked away from his speculative gaze. “Now, where were we? Mr. Hart, I would like you to play the lead role in ‘The Peacock’s Complaint.’ ”

Hart grinned. “You think me a preening peacock, Miss Aubrey?”

“Not at all. I think you a good sport.”

“I must be, to have put up with Bryant here all these years.”

Mariah smiled. “And as reward, you shall also play the bear and fight the lion over the fawn.”

“And Captain Bryant is the lion, I suppose?” Hart asked wistfully.

“Yes.”

“Why, I wonder, do all ladies see
him
as the valiant lion and me as the grouchy bear? I promise you that in reality, our roles are quite the opposite.”

Captain Bryant crossed his arms.

“There, there, Mr. Hart,” Mariah soothed. “You may fight him and show us all how valiant you are. You may even use swords, though I shall ask the carpenter to fashion wooden swords for the spectacle, what with so many children about. But you may practice with steel all you like beforehand.”

George and Sam whooped while Hart nodded. “That is something at least.”

“If you are not to play the peacock, Miss Aubrey, what role will you play?” Captain Bryant asked. “The goddess Juno?”

“No. Dixon shall do the part more justice than I. I shall be busy reminding people of their cues, helping on with costumes, et cetera.” In fact, Mariah had already begun fashioning costumes from odds and ends in her aunt’s trunk. She added, “By the way, Captain, I would also like you to play the fox in ‘The Fox and the Crow.’ ”

He tilted his head and looked at her, eyes alight with challenge. “If you will play the crow.”

“Why?” Mariah asked, surprised.

He gave her a lazy grin. “I want to hear you sing.”

“You shall hear me
caw
, a slight improvement on my singing voice, but at least I should have an excuse.”

“All the better.” His grin widened.

“Maggie is the true singer here.” Mariah placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder, and Maggie bit back a smile.

“Besides,” Mariah added. “I already asked Lizzy to play the crow.”

“Go on, miss, you play the crow,” Lizzy urged. “I am frightened to death at the thought of playing the dove as it is.”

“Very well, if you are certain. And Mrs. Pitt has kindly offered to narrate the piece.”

Again that lady dipped her head, and Mariah wondered once more why the woman had agreed to participate.

Mariah bent and pulled her creation from a basket on the floor – a headdress she had crafted from one of her aunt’s hats. “I made this for the crow to wear. The beak can hold a wooden block of cheese.”

“Ingenious, Miss Aubrey,” Hart said, all admiration.

Bryant studied her all too closely. “What other talents have you hidden away, I wonder?”

In the actual performance, the poorhouse stairway would serve as the “tree” in the entry hall, which Mrs. Pitt thought best suited for staging a theatrical. But for the rehearsal, Mariah stood on a kitchen chair to play the crow.

Mrs. Pitt held the script near the candle lamp. She cleared her throat and began, “ ‘A crow, having stolen a bit of cheese from a cottage window, perched herself high in a tree and held the choice morsel in her beak.’ ”

Mariah had to admit the woman had a good, if affected, speaking voice.

Wearing the crow headdress and her aunt’s fur mantle, Mariah stood gingerly on the chair, swiveling her head from side to side so that everyone might see the beak and “cheese” from the best angle. George guffawed. Even quiet Maggie giggled. Hart, she noticed, was too busy staring at Lizzy, and Lizzy too busy
not
looking at him to react at all.

Mrs. Pitt waited for silence, then continued, “ ‘A fox, seeing this, longed to possess the tasty morsel himself, and so devised a wily plan to acquire it. He would compliment the crow on her beauty.’ ”

Captain Bryant, wearing the velvet ears Mariah had sewn from one of her aunt’s old collars, and an authentic fox tail tucked into the waist of his pantaloons, walked casually over and stood beneath the “tree.”

He glanced up from an idle inspection of his “paw,” and reacted as if he had just noticed her there. He exaggerated his look of surprise with wide open mouth, bugged eyes, and sputtering. The children laughed again.

“ ‘How handsome is the crow,’ ” he exclaimed. “ ‘I protest, I never observed it before, but your feathers are a more delicate white than ever I saw in my life.’ ”

“White!” George objected. For Mariah’s headdress and mantle were black.

“ ‘And what a fine shape and graceful turn of the body is there!’ ” Captain Bryant continued.

Mariah smiled and turned from side to side in mock modesty. She noted that, although she had given Captain Bryant his lines only five minutes before, he seemed to barely need to look at the page in his hand.

Mrs. Pitt took up her cue. “ ‘The crow, tickled by his very civil language, nestled and preened, and hardly knew where she was.’ ”

Captain Bryant sighed dramatically. “ ‘If
only
you had a tolerable voice. If only
it
were as fair as your complexion.’ ”

Mariah frowned in faux disapproval, planting her hands on her hips.

“ ‘Oh, if her voice were only equal to her beauty, she would deservedly be considered the queen of birds!’ ”

Mrs. Pitt said, “ ‘Realizing the fox was dubious as to the particular of her voice, and having in mind to set him right on the matter, the crow opened her beak and began to sing.’ ”

Mariah let out a loud “Caw!” and dipped her head to dislodge the cheese.

“ ‘And in that instant the cheese dropped from her mouth,’ ” Mrs. Pitt said. She looked up at Mariah, squinted her eyes, and then repeated, “ ‘The cheese dropped from her mouth!’ ”

Beside Mariah’s chair, Matthew beamed up at her with a lopsided grin. She shook her head again and finally felt the lightening of her headdress as the yellow-painted wood fell.

Captain Bryant caught the wedge neatly and pretended to take a lusty bite from it.

“ ‘This was exactly what the fox had planned and hoped for,’ ” Mrs. Pitt read. “ ‘And he laughed to himself at the credulity of the crow.’ ”

Matthew laughed and slapped his thigh in exaggerated hilarity. He called up to a pouting Mariah, “ ‘My good Crow, your voice is fair enough. It is your wit that is wanting!’ ”

With this, Captain Bryant jogged off with his prize. The small audience began to clap. Before Mariah could step down from the chair, the captain circled back and offered her his hand. Self-consciously, she placed her hand in his. He helped her down but did not release her. Instead he held her hand high and led her to “center stage,” where they both took their bows. The children, Lizzy, Mr. Hart, and even Mrs. Pitt applauded good-naturedly for the simple performance.

Mariah was buoyed by the promising beginning and hoped the rest of the rehearsals and the performance itself would go as smoothly. She looked forward to bringing cheer into the lives of the poorhouse residents. And into her own life as well. Perhaps it would help her forget, at least for a little while, her remorse over the past. . . .

Lydia was surprised late that first night when she heard a scratch
at the door of her bedchamber. She knew instantly it was him. She
paused in the brushing of her long dark hair. For just one moment,
she sat as a statue, meeting her amber eyes in the looking glass. She
saw the light, the hope there.

Her chaperone was asleep in the adjoining room. At least Lydia
hoped she was.

She rose and padded in bare feet to the door. Pressed her hand,
then her ear and cheek against its cool, smooth grain.

“Yes?” she whispered, never imagining what she was agreeing
to.

“It is me,” his muffled whisper replied. “I must see you. Talk
to you.”

Lydia thought quickly. “Meet me in the arbor before breakfast.”

“No. Now. I must speak with you now.”

“We cannot.”

“We can!”

“Shhh . . .” Lydia urged, fearing he would awaken the whole
house.

“You don’t understand, Lydia. I am afraid. My heart aches to see
you. One more time. One more time before I must . . . depart.”

Stricken, she opened the door. “Depart?” she echoed. “But you
have just returned.”

“I know. But . . .” His words faded away. His eyes widened,
darkened, as he looked from her face, to the hair tumbling loose around
her shoulders, to the lace bodice of the nightdress.

“Harmless amusement.”

–
Monthly Review,
about
Emma,
1816

chapter 20

The following week passed quickly with another dance lesson at Windrush Court, a second theatrical rehearsal in the gatehouse, and a third in the poorhouse itself. On the evening of July first, Mariah went over to Honora House early to make certain everything was in order for the performance.

Mrs. Pitt, well dressed in a jaunty feather cap and a green gown that complemented her thin frame, met Mariah at the door.

“Good news, Miss Aubrey. The undersheriff is here visiting. He is an old friend of the late Mr. Pitt, and he has promised to stay for the theatrical. He does us a great honor, does he not?”

“Indeed,” Mariah said, feeling sheepish. “I only hope you mentioned our humble entertainment is meant primarily for the children. Though, of course, all are welcome.”

A stout bearded man appeared in the office doorway. “Never fear, miss. I haven’t fancy tastes. I’m sure your spectacle shall prove amusing.”

“I hope you find it so, sir.”

Captain Bryant and Mr. Hart arrived even earlier than she had requested.

“We walked through the gatehouse instead of riding around,” the captain said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not,” Mariah said. But inwardly she felt ill at ease. Why hadn’t she anticipated that? She certainly hoped she had covered up the pages of the new book she was writing. In any case, there was nothing she could do about it now, and much to do to get ready.

Together they hung blankets from the storeroom all the way to a structural post near the “stage,” creating a narrow passage that would allow the actors to don costumes in the storeroom and enter the stage without being seen by the audience. Around the stage, they placed gas lamps to illume the scene. The candle chandelier, rarely used, was lit for the occasion.