The Girl in the Gatehouse (42 page)

Well, what is the worst that could happen?
she bolstered herself. It appeared the entire party already knew of her presence and her part in the theatrical, so she had little to risk in going over. She would simply leave the headdress and mask at the door with a footman and ask that they be delivered into Captain Bryant’s hands.

She slipped a long-sleeved spencer over her dusky blue gown and walked quickly through the pink-orange twilight to the great house. But as she lifted her hand to knock, the door opened, startling her. Captain Ned Parker appeared, a handsome man she knew only slightly. He had briefly flirted with her at his house party last summer, but she had been so focused on Mr. Crawford that she had given him no encouragement.

Captain Parker was on his way outside with a decanter of something golden, and a half-filled glass in his hands. “Miss Aubrey!” he exclaimed. “What a delight. I have not had the pleasure of meeting you the entire time I have been here. I do hope you are coming to join us for the theatrical?”

“I have only come to bring these.” She lifted the props before her, like an admittance ticket at Almack’s.

“Nonsense. You must stay. Hart and Bryant go on endlessly about what a wonderful performance you gave in ‘The Fox and the Crow.’ I am to play the fox, you know. How I would love for you to play opposite me. Then you might display your many talents for all to see.”

Mariah was taken aback by his warm praise. Did he not know what had happened at his own house party? Surely he did. What balm to meet with someone who knew and yet still esteemed her.

She said, “I am certain the role is filled quite admirably by another lady.”

“Millicent Mabry.” He shuddered. “Silly thing. Giggled uncontrollably through the entire rehearsal.”

Mariah allowed herself a small smile.

“Come, Miss Aubrey, don’t desert us. You are likely the only clever female among us, unless you count Miss Hutchins, and I don’t.”

Ann Hutchins,
Mariah guessed. “No, I shan’t stay. I don’t want to intrude.”

Beneath a fringe of blond hair, his pale eyes gleamed. “And deny me the pleasure of your company because of a few simpleminded gossips? That hardly seems fair.”

Yes, he definitely knew.

He leaned near. “Come, Miss Aubrey. If you prefer to stay out of sight, I will escort you to the smoking room off the library. There is an air vent there where gents used to spy on the ladies while they smoked their cigars in peace. No one shall see you, and you can watch our poor performance from there.”

“I don’t think that is a good idea, Captain.”

“I should perform better, knowing you were there. Come, would you not like to see what this lot does with your script? Butcher it, no doubt, but are you not curious?”

She bit her lip. “I am curious, I own.”

“Then it is settled.” Tucking the decanter under his arm, he offered her his elbow and led her into the house. He escorted her across the hall and into the small secluded room. Then he excused himself, taking his decanter and glass with him.

Mariah stood alone in the smoking room, which bore only the faintest scent of tobacco. Rich leather chairs were clustered around, and at one end of the room was the vent he had mentioned, midway up the wall. She hoped no one was watching her through it. It took her several minutes to pluck up the courage to peek through – and when she did, she saw that the library beyond was empty.

Mariah had been relieved, if surprised, when Captain Parker left her. She feared what notions might arise in his brain had he been alone with her while continuing to empty that decanter. She recalled her old chaperone warning her to stay away from Ned Parker when he was drinking. But maybe she had been mistaken, for Captain Parker had seemed gentlemanly, even unexpectedly charming. Perhaps she had been wrong to discourage his interest last summer.

A shrill voice wheedled through the wall, and Mariah tiptoed to the vent once more. One of the Mabry girls – Helen, she thought – was trilling up and down the notes of the scale. And then, a beautiful fair-haired woman entered. Isabella Forsythe. Mariah had met her only briefly at the Parkers’ party. How beautiful she was in her Grecian robes. Juno. Mariah felt a stab of resentment toward the striking blonde, who had once again come between her and love.

Another woman strode into the library – Ann Hutchins, whom Mariah had met once or twice before. Miss Hutchins was frowning and looked upset. Whatever news she imparted soon had Miss Forsythe and the Mabry girl looking greatly disappointed.

The door to the smoking room burst open behind her, and Mariah barely stifled a shriek. Turning, she saw it was only Captain Parker returning. He carried several objects in his arms, the crow headdress among them.

His handsome face was flushed, his eyes a bit bleary. The decanter was gone. Its contents gone . . . into him?

“It is fate, Miss Aubrey,” he said. “Everyone is bitterly disappointed, and I am blessedly relieved. Millicent Mabry has suddenly taken ill. Bad oysters. She will be fine by morning, but our theatrical is ruined, unless you save us.”

Mariah’s head had already begun shaking, refusing of its own accord.

The door opened again, this time more slowly. Mariah steeled herself, until she recognized Captain Bryant. He let himself in and closed the door behind him.

Parker gestured toward her, a smug grin on his face. “Here she is, Bryant.”

“Miss Aubrey,” the captain began. “Parker whispered to me that you were in here, but I confess I did not believe him.”

“Can you think of anyone else to salvage the play at this late hour?” Parker asked.

“No, but we may simply reschedule.”

“Not a bit of it. I am taking my leave tomorrow, or have you forgotten? And Browne goes with me.”

Captain Bryant looked at him dully. “I had forgotten.”

“Come, Miss Aubrey,” Parker urged. “I thought you might wear Hart’s mask as well as the beak contraption, if that makes you feel more secure. More incognito.”

“You need not do this, Miss Aubrey,” Captain Bryant said, eyes earnest.

“Oh, come, Captain,” Parker scoffed. “She is perfectly safe, is she not? Surely you would not allow anyone to say a word against her in your own house.”

“Of course not.”

Parker handed Mariah the mask and crow headdress as though her participation were a
fait accompli
. Glancing significantly at Captain Bryant, he added, “And won’t Miss Forsythe be grateful when you tell her the theatrical shall go on after all? What a hero you shall be in her eyes.”

Mariah turned and once more looked through the vent at the assembled party, stewing and grumbling in the next room. She saw the young ladies and their chaperones and kind Mr. Hart. But no sign of James Crawford. Then she looked at Captain Bryant, knew how very much he wanted everything to go well, to please Miss Forsythe at any cost. Inwardly she sighed. She would do it for him.

“Very well. ‘The Fox and the Crow,’ and then I leave.”

“Of course.” Parker smiled, looking like a satisfied fox indeed.

Mariah stood at the back of the library, masked and wearing the headdress as Captain Bryant stepped to the front of the room and cleared his throat. “You will be glad to know that a substitute actress has been found and the theatrical will go on as planned. I know each of you will kindly welcome her to our humble stage and remember that she is here at our behest and not her own initiative. Understood?”

Heads swiveled toward the back of the room, and Mariah felt a flush creep up her neck. Hart smiled encouragingly, no doubt recognizing her instantly. Likely they all did. Helen Mabry smiled uncertainly, perhaps not remembering her. Miss Hutchins whispered something to Miss Forsythe, who blanched, then turned away. For the first time, Mariah felt oddly sorry for Isabella. How awkward this must be for her as well. For she and her friend clearly did remember her. No one, however, voiced a complaint.

Captain Bryant surveyed the room. “And as Parker seems to have gone missing, I shall reprise my role as the fox.”

The library, where the guests had elected to hold their theatrical, held no stairway, but they had positioned a set of substantial library steps to elevate the crow. To this, Mariah walked forward as though to a gibbet, eyes straight ahead, feeling the stares of the others on her. As she climbed the steps, she glimpsed Mr. Browne and Mr. Crawford entering. The headdress and wooden wedge atop her head seemed suddenly to weigh several stones. The wheeled steps shifted slightly as she sat atop them, making Mariah feel dizzy and disoriented.

Why, oh, why did I agree to do this?
Even wearing the peacock’s feather mask over her eyes, she felt far too exposed. Vulnerable.
Just get through
this,
she told herself. For Captain Bryant’s sake. Even though he had not asked it of her.

Miss Hutchins took her place to the left of the staging area, where candelabra stood on the pianoforte to illumine her script. She read in precise, clipped tones that left Mariah actually appreciating Mrs. Pitt for her speaking voice – if nothing else.

She 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 woodenly swiveled her beak from side to side. Mr. Browne grinned. Helen Mabry laughed. Miss Forsythe, she noticed, did not even smile. Sitting beside her, Mr. Crawford glanced at his intended’s stony face, then away, expression inscrutable.

Captain Parker came into the room, late, setting his sword near the door and exchanging it for a glass of brandy, which he downed in one swallow.

Miss Hutchins 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.”

Walking forward, Parker proclaimed, “That has certainly loosened the lips of many a gullible female throughout history. Has it not, Crawford?”

Strained looks were exchanged by several audience members. Miss Mabry lifted a hand to stifle a giggle.

Captain Bryant stepped forward, but Captain Parker pushed him aside, grabbing the tail from his waistband and swishing it in his hand like a lady’s fan. He strode purposely toward the steps and stood beneath the “tree.” He was tall enough that Mariah sat only a head or so above him.

“Parker,” Bryant hissed. “Step aside. You are late and you are drunk. I relieve you of your – ”

Parker cut him off. “I have not wasted five whole minutes learning my lines for you to usurp my role.” He beamed up at Mariah. “I shan’t miss my opportunity to flatter Miss . . . our mysterious Miss Crow.”

Parker launched into his first line with great zeal, throwing out an arm with dramatic flair. “How handsome is the crow!”

He reached up and traced a finger over the deep blue fabric covering Mariah’s legs. She started.

“I never observed it before, but your feathers are more delectable than ever I saw in my life.”

Parker’s fingers raked her shin. Mariah tried to move her leg aside, but there was nowhere to go. What was the man doing? How drunk was he?

“Parker!” Bryant hissed again.

“And what a fine shape and graceful body you have.” Parker’s eyes traveled over Mariah’s figure, leg to neck and back again, and Mariah felt herself flush in shame.

Miss Hutchins took up her cue. “And so he flattered the crow, never meaning a word of it. The crow, tickled by his very civil language, nestled and preened, and hardly knew where she was.”

Is that not precisely what had happened? Mariah thought. She had allowed herself to be tricked into this situation by his flattery.
Foolish, gullible girl!

Captain Parker sighed dramatically. “If
only
you had a tolerable voice. And if only your character were as fair as your complexion.”

Mariah’s ears rang.
Had he really said that?
Her vision blurred. She was trapped before a hostile crowd at her own hanging, all those condemning eyes beaded on her. She couldn’t even flee. Any sudden movement and she would fall from her perch.

Parker went on with his own version, clearly relishing her discomfort. “Oh, if only your purity were equal to your beauty, you would deservedly be considered the queen of birds.”

Several in the audience began to murmur and squirm in their chairs, but Miss Hutchins, assumedly hearing only the gist of the line and finding its cadence matching the script, blithely opened her mouth to continue.

Before she could, Captain Bryant strode up on the stage. “That is enough, Parker.”

Parker shrugged, untroubled. “Why should Crawford have all the fun? Why should you?”

“Parker. I am warning you.” He grabbed the man’s arm, but Parker shook it off.

While the two men argued, Mariah climbed stiffly down the steps. She could hardly see for the feathers and the tears. The headdress fell to the floor as she hurried blindly toward the door. Toward escape.

“Miss Aubrey,” Mr. Hart’s whisper met her at the door. “I am so sorry. I never imagined Parker was such a fiend.”

She remembered she was wearing his peacock mask. She pulled it off, pressed it into his hands, and pushed past him into the hall. Her unsteady strides became a choppy running gait as she flew across the marble floor and out the front door.