"The scene where she is forced to have Count Paris, for instance! The audience will all be cheering her on without realizing they are doing it, or why they are doing it, at least. It will compound the tragedy when she finally kills herself. There will be plentiful tears in the hall, I promise you, including my own.”
“What can I do to bring out this effect you want?” Altmore asked.
“You do well now, Romeo. Just be madly in love with her. Who could be otherwise?”
“I might have known!” Altmore laughed. “You can never put on a play without falling in love with your leading lady, can you?”
“My dear fellow, that is half the charm of it!” Dewar replied, with a fond glance across the room to Juliet.
Miss McCormack had had such good luck in bending Dewar to her bidding that she sat in hourly expectation of hearing the short cut through Evan’s pasture was open to traffic. They arrived back at Stonecroft at four. Dewar, content that his Juliet was learning to project her voice, had absolved himself of further duty in her exercises, and assigned the task to Holly.
It was a blow to Lady Proctor that the evening visits were ended, but she was fairly sure he would find some other excuse to present himself in her saloon. She held herself every bit as much ready as Miss McCormack to receive him. When the knocker sounded at eight-thirty there was a bustling of putting away the orphans’ shirts by Holly, of straightening her lace collar and tidying her skirts by the mother, and of smiling with anticipation by Jane. The excited shouts in the hallway told them their caller was not Dewar, but Mr. Homberly.
"That pest of a fellow. I hope he has left his sword at home,” Lady Proctor said. “He has mangled my best fern; it will take eons to recover,”
“Tried to kill me, by Jove!” he was shouting. “Call a sawbones, quick! Bleeding to death!”
This stark pronouncement soon had the three ladies in the hallway, where there was no evidence of blood, but a good deal of embarrassment. Rex stood, red-faced, with both hands clutching at the seat of his trousers, while his blue eyes popped in mute horror. “Oh—evening, Lady Proctor, ladies,” he said, with a quick nod of his head. “Fool of a fellow took a shot at me. Afraid he might have killed me. Ought to be in Bedlam. Crazy lunatic.”
“Mr. Homberly, are you hurt?” Jane asked, running forward.
“No!” He leapt away, backing towards the door. “That is—only a scratch.”
“But where were you hit? I don’t see any blood,” she insisted, searching him from head to toe.
“Who shot at you?” Lady Proctor asked, seeing with relief that there was no sword in evidence this evening.
“Silly old fool who lives in that cottage a mile down the road. Took the short cut from the Abbey; out he comes with a gun, makes me dismount. No sooner turned my back on him than he discharged his shotgun on me.”
“Were you hit?” Jane asked, still seeing no evidence of his wounds.
“Certainly was! That is,” he added, again clutching the seat of his trousers, “heh, heh—only a graze. Still, dashed uncomfortable. Wish you would call a sawbones.”
Holly had figured out the nature of his problem and took the matter in hand, shepherding the ladies back into the saloon while the butler shouted for footmen, for a message to be sent to the doctor, for water and basilicum powder, and for a bed to be prepared.
“Pair of Sir Egbert’s trousers, if he can spare 'em,” Rex added.
“You had better go to bed and spend the night here, Mr. Homberly,” Holly suggested.
“I wouldn’t like to ... that is ... not a bad idea, actually,” he said, changing his tack as the possibilities this would present for throwing himself into Jane’s path occurred to him.
“Shall I send a note up to the Abbey?” Holly asked him.
“Sorry to put you to so much trouble. Daresay they won’t miss me. Roper, my valet, will worry.”
“I’ll let them know where you are.”
Lady Proctor sighed in exasperation when she heard the plan, but was soon back in smiles. Dewar would naturally come down to see how his cousin progressed. Before Dewar arrived, however, Mr. Homberly’s valet was on the scene, bearing a valise that held enough garments for a week. The doctor was taken abovestairs to attend to the victim while Holly, satisfied that the wounds were not serious, foresaw the attack could be put to good use in bringing pressure to bear on Dewar to settle once for all the matter of Mr. Evans.
It was just above an hour when Dewar finally arrived. “I am most dreadfully sorry to have imposed on you in this way,” he told Lady Proctor.
“Not at all. What are friends for?” she asked merrily, after having complained for fifty of the sixty minutes while she was uncertain he would come. “We are happy to be of service.”
“How is he?” was the next question.
“The doctor is not down yet, but the servants tell us it is not at all serious. Old Evans has run completely mad, and must be restrained before he kills someone,” Lady Proctor said, indicating a seat by the fireside for her guest.
“I’d like to run up and see Rex,” Dewar said, and was graciously given permission.
Dr. John was soon down, explaining that Homberly’s valet would see to his needs. “A few days’ rest. He will recover quickly—just surface wounds. You will not long have him here,” he promised. “Let him remain overnight, and by tomorrow he can be moved, but in a carriage. He will not be able to ride for a week or so.”
Dewar wasted very few moments upstairs. “He’ll live,” was his unsympathetic pronouncement when he came down. “If the gudgeon hadn’t popped back on his horse and ridden here, he would be in a lot less pain. The worst thing he could have done, but then Rex hardly realizes he has a pair of legs. He rides everywhere, and dislikes even to dismount to come to the table.”
“I’ll run up and see if he needs anything. Is he able to see me?” Holly asked.
“Yes,” Dewar answered briefly, regarding her with a self-conscious expression. “Then you will come down and see
me.
I hope the doctor has not left! I have an inkling I will have need of him.”
“Perhaps
now
you will do something about it,” she replied as she swept past him.
“You may be very sure I have! I would not have dared to show my face otherwise. I spoke to Evans on my way here.”
She found Rex propped up in bed, hoisting a glass of wine to his lips. About his shoulders rested a housecoat of iridescent satin, in hues of peacock, black, and rose. The fringed tassel of the tie was being applied to his lips, in lieu of a napkin.
“Oh, Miss McCormack,” he exclaimed, peering behind her shoulder to see if, by any chance, Jane was hiding there. “Dashed rig to run into. How am I to duel with Foxey in this state?”
“The doctor says you will soon be up and about.”
“Don’t know about that. Think I may have to batten myself on you for a couple of weeks,” he said happily, and snuggled down into the sheets. “Er—if Miss Proctor is wondering, I can receive visitors. Didn’t take no laudanum. Couple of glasses of ale will put me to sleep right and tight. Or wine.”
“I hope you are not suffering too much. So very unfortunate.”
“Little pain ... heh heh. Well, well—all been very kind. Very kind indeed. Won’t be a bit of bother to you. Roper will take care of me. I like steak for breakfast, with fried murphies. Roper knows just how I like ‘em. If Miss Proctor enquires, you can tell her I am fine. Ain’t going to stick my fork in the wall by a long shot. Will she be coming up?”
“Certainly she will,” Holly assured him. “Dewar is belowstairs at the moment.”
“Don’t want
him
back up here jawing at me. How was I to know the man is a Bedlamite? Nobody told me not to take the short cut. Least you could do is warn a body if there’s a murderer loose. Mind, if I’d known what ailed old Evans, I’d have spoken to Dewar myself. Not allowed to shoot all these years because Dewar wouldn’t lease him a measly five acres. Enough to drive a man mad, not being able to use your pops. Don’t blame him in the least. Would have done the same thing myself, I daresay.”
“Is there anything you want? A book perhaps, or something to eat?”
“No books! Might manage to put away a leg of chicken and a bit of cake. A few pieces of toast—a dish of preserves wouldn’t go amiss.”
“It is early yet. A long evening to get in before you will be ready for sleep. Are you sure you wouldn’t like something to read?”
“Maybe Miss Proctor would like to read to me,” he said hopefully.
“Perhaps later,” Holly replied, though she had not the least assurance Jane would comply.
A few hints that Miss Proctor might like to have a hand of piquet or a game of jackstraws were all met with the reminder that she was with Dewar. Rex’s pink face took on the expression known by his friends as his ‘wise face,’ which is to say he pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, indicating deep thought. “Tell you what,” he said, “send Dewar up. Want to speak to him. Urgent.”
Holly relayed the message through Roper, who had been given the adjoining room. The simple ruse worked very well. When Dewar entered at the door a moment later, Jane was with him. “What is it you want, Rex?” Dewar asked.
Rex’s eyes and thoughts were all for Jane. He ignored the question, while a simple-minded smile settled on his face. “I see how it is,” Dewar said to Holly, and went to join her.
Jane advanced to the bed and enquired for Homberly’s comfort. The precise nature of any remarks exchanged between them was not overheard, but soon Jane was hopping out of the door to go after jackstraws. “Shall I toss this
malade imaginaire
into my carriage and relieve you of him?” Dewar asked Holly, but with a tolerant smile at the victim.
“The doctor says he is not to be moved for a few days.”
“What a compliant doctor he is.
Entre nous,
I think we know the more serious ailment is heart-related.”
“Easy for you to say,” Rex charged, lending an ear. “You ain’t the one with his—body full of shot. Dashed uncomfortable. Especially getting it pried out. Near passed out with the pain.”
“You should have had some laudanum,” Holly told him. “It would have eased the pain of the operation and made sleep easier afterwards. You are too stoical, Mr. Homberly.”
“Ain’t chicken-hearted anyway,” Rex told his cousin. “Be back in the saddle in jig time—week or so,” he altered his diagnosis, as Jane entered with the jackstraws. Dewar drew a chair to the bedside for her, and the two were soon engrossed in a noisy game.
“Do you share my feeling that we are
de trop
here, Miss McCormack?” Dewar asked.
“Certainly not. I must act the chaperone, but if you would like to join Lady Proctor below....”
“No!” he said, very emphatically.
There was no danger of mistaking this reply for a compliment to herself. It had very much the tone of opting for the lesser of two evils. “No, I would like to hear my lecture now, if you please, and have it done with. You forgot to say I told you so belowstairs. I blame the unusual reticence on your aunt’s presence. You will be able to read me a much more satisfactory scold here. Come now,” he prompted. “If I had done as you suggested this morning Rex would not have this unparalleled opportunity to pester Jane. He is delighted with his misfortune, which must take the wind out of your sail somewhat.”
“It could have been serious,” she answered.
“So it could. Only think if Evans had filled Rex’s sword-wielding arm with buckshot, or happened to hit the horse in error. That is a very fine animal Rex rides.”
“You treat it lightly, which seems to be your customary manner of conducting what one would think should be serious affairs.”
“This is more like it,” Dewar congratulated her, and settled in, quite as comfortably as Rex, for a coze. “I had intended speaking to my steward about the matter tomorrow. Odd he had not attended to it himself, but he misunderstood the situation. I shall ring a resounding peal over him. Meanwhile, I have assured Evans he will be leased the requisite acres, and he is now free to shoot us all quite legally. Foolish Game Laws. They were drawn up centuries ago. Well, I hope Tybalt’s indisposition does not hamper our rehearsals too severely.”
Mr. Homberly’s merry laughing and flirting had soon dried his throat. Roper was requested to bring the company wine. “My own,” he mentioned to the ladies, lest they thought it overweaning of him to offer them their own wine. “Roper brought a couple of bottles in my cases.”
“I wonder where he got it,” Dewar asked innocently, as he examined the bottles from his own cellars.
After chewing it up, Homberly proclaimed it to be “A thoroughbred. Not a saucy bone in its body. Yessir, a very well-behaved wine indeed.”
“What does that mean?” Jane asked.
“It is better not to enquire too minutely,” Dewar told her.
Holly asked Roper to fetch her sewing, as she wished to finish the shirts before the costumes made their demands on her. Seeing was difficult in the lamplight, but she hesitated to put on her spectacles with Dewar at her side, watching every stitch.
For an hour the invalid was entertained, then it was time for Dewar to take his leave. “Don’t cosset him,” he warned the ladies, “or you’ll have a tenant for life.”
“We shan’t pay him a bit of heed,” Holly assured Rex. “I’ll have some food sent up for you now, before you retire, Mr. Homberly. A leg of chicken and some cake, I think you mentioned.”
“Very nice of you. Little toast and preserves too—peaches for choice.”
“We wouldn’t want him to fade away to a cartload,” Dewar mentioned, as the ladies bade him farewell.
It was not necessary for the minor players to appear at every rehearsal. With only a small part, Holly decided to remain home the next morning and finish Sir Egbert’s bookkeeping. She had some premonition Dewar would return that evening, and wished to be free to join the party in the invalid’s room. She did not examine her reasons for this very closely. It was unusual to have interesting guests at Stonecroft, or even in the village. When they were present it was natural to want to be with them, was the rather vague way she considered it. She had finished the books by noon and, after luncheon, she took her shirts to Mr. Homberly’s room to lighten the tedium of a long day in bed for him. She did not think, as she set the spectacles on her nose, that she had desisted from this act when Dewar was present. Her eyes were tired from the books, she said, when Homberly mentioned her wearing them.