“A superb notion,” Dewar smiled, relaxing. “I have some gold ink in from Russia. You will want to try it.”
The doubts of the penultimate week regarding the play’s ever being ready in time turned to a certainty it would not, in the final week. “It’s hopeless!” Dewar proclaimed, throwing up his hands. “It cannot be done. We’ll have to cancel. This mess will make us a laughing stock amongst our friends from London.”
Swithin said nothing, but Holly felt such a rage well up within her there was no holding it back. All the trips to the Abbey, all the learning of lines, all the amassing of properties, the hours of rehearsing, the endless mass of sewing, the excitement and anticipation of the villagers—all to be tossed aside as of no value because Dewar felt his reputation in London might suffer from a slight lack of perfection. Taking a deep breath, she turned on him, arms akimbo. “I trust you are not serious!”
“You know it is impossible. You were against it from the start,” he pointed out.
“Yes, I was. I thought it a colossal waste of time and money, both of which could have been put to better use. As the time and money have been spent, however, and the whole village been led to believe they are to see a play, it would be—
criminal
to disappoint them. A gentleman would not do such a selfish thing.”
“This
gentleman would,” he replied coldly.
“I have never seen such a display of childish impetuosity. You are vain, selfish, proud, egotistical....”
“Got a devil of a temper too,” Rex warned her in a low aside.
Dewar’s eyes glittered dangerously. There was a tense silence in the hall as one and all awaited his outburst. To their relief, he said only “Bah!” or something that sounded like it, then stalked off, leaving them to wonder whether this was the end of all their work.
Swithin said, “Well done, Kate. Mind you, it was not at all necessary. Dew didn’t mean it. Had no thought in the world of not putting on the play. He’s asked two dozen friends from the city to see it. He usually threatens not to go on with it at some point during the final stages. Tempers become frayed. Your own as well, I daresay.”
“Feel like a broody hen myself,” Rex admitted. “‘Nuff to give anyone the jitters, being cooped up in a dashed freezing room for weeks on end.”
“What oft was thought, but ne’er so poorly expressed,” Swithin agreed. He assured the onlookers that work would resume as soon as Dewar had calmed down, and they must all just allow themselves to go limp and rest for a few moments.
“You too, Kate,” he said, adjusting her shawl more closely round her neck. “I worry about that cold you have caught. I have decocted some drops for you. Take sparingly, they are very strong. Liquorice and sugar, linseed, raisins, a
soupçon
of rum and vinegar, the whole to be shaken gently before talking. If the cough is in danger of invading the chest tonight, you must dip a flannel in boiling water, sprinkle with turpentine, and apply to the chest. I have found it wonderfully effective in the past. I saved dear Prinney from a lung inflammation with it. I am dashing off for my own greatcoat this instant. I swear the grates in this great frigid hall defy legend, and produce smoke without fire. The coldest smoke ever generated anywhere,” he shivered. “I shall find something warmer for your shoulders as well.”
"I’m not cold,” she told him. She felt decidedly warm inside still from her confrontation with Dewar, and rather foolish as well, if it had all been unnecessary. But then, how was one to know? And he could not be allowed to stop the play at this late date.
Swithin encountered Lady Dewar as he roamed the rooms looking for a pretty shawl for Holly. Informed of his errand, she gave him instead another of her late husband’s waistcoats for the girl, explaining that Holly would not mind what she looked like, “For she’s a nice sensible gel and would rather be comfortable than fancy.”
“How true. She is above mere finery. I shall just top off her cough medicine with a dash of cinnamon from this little pounce box I always carry about with me, and make her take some. You were happy with the aperient I made up,
Chère Tante?”
“It gave me a wonderful relief, Swithin. Leave me the receipt. It don’t gripe like Scots. Don’t gripe in the least, but is very effective.”
In the ensuing days, Holly appeared at the rehearsal in Lady Dewar’s husband’s waistcoat, green with yellow stripes, which was perfectly effective in keeping the chilly blasts from her back without unduly encumbering her arms and hands. An aroma, not entirely appetizing, of linseed and liquorice hung about her, for she had frequent recourse to her medicine. Her nose was red, and her eyes tended to moistness. Concerned for her health, Swithin made her wear a pair of jean slippers that extended nearly to the knees, specially made to his own design for keeping the draughts of Heron Hall at bay in the winter months.
After recovering from his fit of pique, Dewar attempted an apology a few days later. “Things are going a little better now, I think,” he said, as his wandering eyes took in her various layers of protection against the cold. “I had truly no intention of cancelling the play. The artistic temperament, you know—hot-headed.”
“Lucky head! It is the only hot thing in this room.”
“Two fireplaces are not sufficient to heat it. The Abbey was used to be a religious place. Perhaps it was a part of their penance to freeze during meals.”
“I am surprised your improving hand has not been busy here to install more adequate heating. The new Rumford fireplace, for instance, would be all the crack.”
“I shall make a note of that. A new wrinkle, for you to be urging me to tend to my own comfort. It is usually the unfortunate poor you are looking after.”
“Yes, quite a dab at making orphan shirts. Shall I sew you up one, till you get your new fireplaces?”
“Not necessary. I too am wearing my waistcoat. Very handsome, incidentally,” he said, with a playful look at her borrowed garment.
“Your father had good taste,” she agreed, glancing down at it.
“You didn’t think I had inherited it from my mama, did you? I have a waistcoat upstairs with rosebuds that might suit you better. No, on second thought, you will spill that vile medicine on it, as I notice you have done to Papa’s.”
“Swithin made a syrup for me. So kind of him. And let me borrow his slippers too. He’s really rather sweet, when you get past his foolishness. Get to know him better, I mean.”
“Yes,” Dewar said, very briefly, almost as though he disliked to acknowledge it. “I believe I mentioned to you some time ago that he was an excellent fellow, in his own way.” Then he quickly changed the subject. “
A
propos de rien,
my fountain has arrived from London for the dairy. Would you care to see it?”
“We can’t leave now, in the middle of rehearsal,” she said, surprised at the suggestion.
“I’ll call a tea break. It won’t take long.”
“I imagine some of the others would like to see it too,” she suggested, looking toward Jane.
“Oh no. You are the only one who derided my idea. I want
you
to see how nicely it has turned out,” he replied, taking her elbow, and walking her rather quickly towards the door. “Have some tea served. We’ll be back soon,” he said to Altmore in passing.
“Where are you going?” Altmore asked.
“Out.”
“You were very curt with him,” Holly chided.
“I am vain, selfish, proud, and egotistical, remember? Also rude, and with an excellent memory. A thoroughly bad article when you come down to it. I have performed one unselfish act of late, however. I have got Billie a Bath chair. Ordered it while we were in London, so that he need not be completely immobilized while he is recuperating. He adores it. Rents it out to the others at a penny a ride while he is not using it. A budding entrepreneur, that one. He let me take a scoot down the hallway without cost. Fun. Old age will not be without its rewards.”
“Have you actually been to the orphanage then?” she asked.
“I have, and without your prodding me, too. I went over to discuss Christmas preparations with Johnson and the people there. Your shirts were wonderfully well received,” he said, with a quizzing smile. “You will want a coat to go outside. No need to send for your own. Here’s something belonging to the backhouse boy that you will like. Fustian—nice and warm.” After helping her into it, he pulled the collar up about her ears, looked at her for a moment, said “Waif,” and held the side door open for her to exit.
“Aren’t you wearing a coat?”
“It won’t bother me. My hot head will keep me warm,” he answered. The two of them hurried at a brisk pace across the space that separated the thatched dairy from the main building.
“Oh, how pretty!” she exclaimed when he opened the door to let her enter. It was like entering a bucolic scene from a picture, so harmoniously was all arranged. A dozen girls in blue, their hair bound in a knob atop their heads, with a pert white cap serving to ornament it, were busy at their chores. Some were squeezing butter; some scoured pails; the majority of them stood around the large stone table skimming. A rather simple marble statue of a shepherd, nearly life size, was at its centre, raised on a pedestal, from which fresh water flowed down to the table beneath. The table was rimmed, with a drain at the centre to prevent overflow. The skimming pans were washed from beneath with the water. The dairy was clean and tidy, with nothing foolishly elaborate. The shelves were marble, as opposed to the stone in Sir Egbert’s dairy. The girls were all outfitted in the same uniform instead of the more customary assortment generally seen. The Delft tiles had been affixed to the wall, lending a simple, picturesque charm without being overly ornate.
“It is no longer dreary and depressing to the dairy girls,” he mentioned, glancing around. “But, of course, the real reason for the renovation is that I was struck with the whim for a Dutch dairy, and I deny myself nothing,” he added, with a playful sideways glance to his companion. “The fountain is of less importance in winter than it will be in summer. Then its cooling and freshening effect will be appreciated.”
“It is not at all what I expected,” she said.
“You expected my fountain to be some Italianate monstrosity of writhing gargoyles and nude nymphs? There’s a leveller for me. My one redeeming feature, you see, is that I have impeccable taste.”
“It doesn’t seem much of a renovation for twenty-five hundred pounds,” she said, recalling Mr. Altmore’s conversation on the subject.
“The greater part of the sum is for a new cheese barn, yet to come. Five hundred for the tiles, and another five for the rest that has been done so far, if you are keeping count for me,” he said, then turned aside to speak to the dairymaids, making some enquiries about their work.
With a curious eye, Holly observed them. They were young, pretty, smiling self-consciously and occasionally giggling at the presence amongst them of their employer. Dewar, always the innovator, was soon adjusting pots and trays on shelves, and suggesting that curtains would be quaint.
“How is the play going, Miss McCormack?” one of the girls asked shyly.
“It is coming along nicely.”
“We’re looking forward to it. Lord Dewar says we are all to see it. Half in the afternoon with the orphans, and half at night with the village folks. I never thought to see Shakespeare performed,” she finished, with a happy sigh. “Is it true Miss Jane dies?”
“Yes, it is a tragedy, you see.”
“Tootles will cheer us up after with his juggling. We are looking forward to it so.” After this brief speech, she curtsied prettily, and returned to her chores.
“Are you girls warm enough out here?” Dewar asked before leaving. There was one movable grate in the room, which had elevated the temperature above that achieved in the refectory hall. They had no complaints.
“Better get your collar back up for the dash home,” he warned Holly. Once back within the Abbey, he said no more about the dairy or the statue. He went to have his tea, joining the matrons for the occasion, while Holly was left to wonder why she had been honoured by the little trip.
Activity increased to a feverish pace in the last few days. Holly thought, looking around the hall, that if a stranger entered the room he would think he had landed in Bedlam. There, sitting in a corner like an elf, his legs folded over each other, his slim body wrapped in his many-collared greatcoat, sat Swithin, practicing on his flageolet. He wore his helmet pulled well down around his ears.
In another, Rex and Altmore lunged at each other with swords, while Foxey, in an effort to keep warm, had got too close to the fire in the grate and had accidentally ignited the tails of his coat. Dewar had finally given in to the arctic temperatures and was swathed in an elegant dark green garment with his initials embroidered on the pocket. It was, perhaps, a dressing gown, but was worn as a cape, with the arms not in the sleeves. He was to be seen on the stage directing, in the wings sorting out properties, and dashing through the hall harrying servants to do his bidding.
In the midst of the confusion, Holly was acting as prompter. The Misses Hall could be seen watering their orange trees, which had once again made the trip to the Abbey. Lady Dewar was occasionally on hand, complaining of the noise and cold. She had two new items added to her toilette. She was wrapped from head to toe in a blanket, topped with a turban erected for her by Swithin, with a piece of material hanging down her back, like a desert traveller, which was ‘just the item’ to ward off the breezes from her neck.
“All you need is a camel, and you are ready to join Lady Hester Stanhope amongst the Bedouins,” her son complimented her.
“At least I don’t go in to company in my dressing gown.”
“No, love, you make do with the bed sheets. Why not bring your canopy down and be quite comfortable?”
“Maybe I will.”
Swithin began to notice, at about this time, that Dewar was spending more time with Holly than ever the exigencies of the play could account for. When he wanted an opinion about some reading of the play, an item of stage property, or even a cup of tea, he would appeal to Kate. Indeed, his sudden requirement for a prompter could be seen as a desire to keep her away from himself. Why must his Kate sit on the stage prompting when all the bothersome people had learned their parts quite by rote?