Stages of Desire (13 page)

It occurred to him she'd made him do her bidding as well, but before he could analyze such a disturbing notion further he was distracted by the entrance of the famous Mrs. Ivey. Although he'd never seen her perform, he could tell from her natural charm and beauty why she was so popular.

Harriet handled her carefully, he noted, and let Mrs. Ivey make most of the decisions as to where she should stand and when she would walk, then arranged the rest of the company around her. After an hour, Harriet called for a break and offered the woman a cup of tea. Together they made their way down the aisle, Harriet talking excitedly. William stood as they grew close to his row.

“My lord.” Harriet had returned to a more formal address, and her confidence seemed to drain away.

“Miss Farley.”

“Mrs. Ivey, may I present Lord Abingdon. My lord, Mrs. Ivey.”

William bowed lightly over the actress's delicate hand.

“I don't normally allow strangers to watch dress rehearsals, but an earl, and such a distinguished one. I'll make an exception.”

William could have sworn she batted her eyelashes at him. “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“I'm quite muddled at the moment, with all the fuss of working with a new company, but I do hope you'll stop by my dressing room after the performance.”

Her forwardness surprised him. “You seem to be managing quite well, from what I could see.”

“I'm used to much larger stages, as in London. I have to remember to modulate my voice in such a small house.” She put a hand to her white throat and made a sensual purring noise.

William was speechless.

“Would you still like some tea. Mrs. Ivey?” Harriet asked pertly.

“Yes please, dear. I'll wait here with his lordship. I'm sure we have many London friends in common.”

While Mrs. Ivey held court, William counted the moments until Harriet returned. The actress spoke at great length without needing him to answer or respond, and repeatedly touched his arm with her gloved hand. When Harriet finally returned with a cup of tea he tried to catch her eye, but she was stiff and cold toward him. She probably didn't like the fact that he was holding up the rehearsal and distracting her leading lady, so he excused himself and went outside.

At the pub across the street, he ordered a lunch of bread, cheese, and pickle with a pint of ale and sat in a table near the back. He was enjoying the respite from London, from the shops and clubs where he was bound to run into someone he knew. Perhaps it was the afterglow of the afternoon's triumph with Urswick, but he was happier than he'd been in years, although the past few days had been quite trying. He had surprised himself by bringing up Marianne's name in conversation earlier, as she hadn't come to mind since he'd left Poundridge. Then again, he'd put out fires, disarmed robbers and walked for miles on end, so maybe it wasn't so odd for the woman he was supposed to marry to be far from his attentions.

Or had another woman encroached in her place? The evening on the turret with Harriet, he'd been driven by a desire he'd never experienced before, and being in such close proximity afterward had been both irritating and exhilarating. Strange.

He was glad he'd come, as he finally understood why Harriet was so stubborn about undertaking the journey. The theater company was a living thing, both an art form and a business, one that required careful management, someone in charge who could make difficult choices and follow through. Harriet's father was a hopeless case. Freddie was the most obvious man to be the next in line to lead the Farley Players, and William figured he would carry on after he and Harriet returned to London.

He shifted uneasily in his chair. Why even concern himself with the hierarchy of the theater company? Instead of reflecting further, he opened the book of Shakespeare's comedies he'd nicked from the theater lobby. At first, he analyzed the pages as if they were a medical text. But that grew tiring, so instead he let his eyes glide over the lines, and soon the rhythm of the poetry took over.

He was unsure how many hours had passed before he looked up. The bright afternoon light had softened, illuminating the façade of the theater with a warm glow. He hurried back to his hotel to change into evening dress and send a letter to London regarding his whereabouts. By the time he returned to the theater, a crowd had gathered outside. As he crossed the street, Adam almost barreled into him.

“Adam, what are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be getting ready?”

The older man was out of breath. “Miss Farley asked me to try to find you. She needs your help fast.”

“Is her father giving her trouble?”

“No, it's not that. He's asleep backstage. It's Mrs. Ivey.”

“What about her?”

“She went back to her rooms at the hotel to rest before the show. She was to be here a half-hour ago.”

“And she's not?”

“She never returned. Our leading actress has disappeared.”

* * * *

The actors and crew were in an uproar. William spotted Miss Entwhistle hiding from him behind a rack of costumes but didn't bother to investigate further. He followed the sound of Harriet's voice and found her standing in the wings with Freddie.

“Has anyone checked the hotel?” Her normally rich, low tone quivered and she pressed her hands to either side of her head. “This can't be.”

“I sent someone to find out,” answered Freddie.

“And why are we learning this now, when we have ten minutes before curtain?”

“I could have sworn she came into her dressing room an hour ago,” he said. “I didn't think twice until Miss Entwhistle remarked her costume was still hanging with the others.”

“Oh Freddie, what will we do?”

William came forward. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Unless you can put on a wig and trick the audience into believing you're Mrs. Ivey, we're in deep trouble,” she said.

He considered mentioning that his spitting and turning hadn't done much to alleviate the alleged curse, but thought better of it.

A puffy man came charging forward, almost knocking into them.

“Well? Where is she? Is it true Mrs. Ivey is not here?”

“I'm sure she's on her way, Mr. Wilkinson,” said Harriet. “She was in fine form in rehearsal this afternoon.”

He pulled out his timepiece. “You have five minutes before that curtain rises. If I have to make the announcement Mrs. Ivey will not being playing the role of Rosalind tonight, you will have an angry mob on your hands. They're not here to see the damn Farley Players. They're here for a star.”

“What if Harriet goes on in her place?” Adam piped up from the shadows.

Wilkinson looked at Adam as if he were mad. “She's nobody. She can't take the place of Mrs. Ivey.”

Adam stepped forward and took Harriet's hand. “You must, my girl, it's the only way.”

“I couldn't.”

Adam continued. “There's nothing in our contract that states Mrs. Ivey has to do the role.”

Harriet nodded slowly. “True. She negotiated her contract directly with you, Mr. Wilkinson. So it appears we have to put on a show and we will do so.”

Wilkinson leaned into her, almost spitting with venom. “You go ahead and do whatever you want, Miss Farley. But if one ticket gets returned, the contract is null and void and your father is done for.”

“I understand.”

He stomped off, shoving the boy Martin out of the way as he went.

“What are you thinking, Harry?” demanded Freddie. “He's right, they'll start throwing things the minute you walk out on the stage.”

“Unless Mrs. Ivey shows up in the next five minutes, I'm going on. It's our only chance.”

“What can I do to help?” William was surprised at his own eagerness.

Harriet looked up as if noticing his presence for the first time. “Round the rest of the cast up and let them know what's going on while I change into costume. Then go out front, find a seat and laugh loudly.”

“Are you going to be able to do it?”

She blew a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. “Probably not. But what choice do I have?”

Her courage was formidable. William couldn't imagine stepping one foot out there. She'd be vulnerable and he was sure the audience wouldn't hold back their displeasure.

The electricity in the air was palpable as the actors raced to places. He passed Freddie, who slouched against the wall near the stage door exit.

“Do you want to join me in a box?” William asked.

He shook his head. “I'm staying here, it's the quickest way out and we're sure to be run out of town within the hour.”

“Still no sign of Mrs. Ivey?”

“She probably was offered a better deal at another theater. These actresses are flighty bits.”

“Not your sister.”

“No. But she's an educated lady these days, isn't she?”

The upper crust of Birmingham society squeezed through the hallway to the box seats, men in top hats and women dressed to the nines in crepes and silks. William made his way to his assigned seat and peered over the edge. In the pit, young men laughed and mingled and flirted with the ladies. The noise level was astounding. He couldn't imagine how they'd react to the bad news.

He didn't have to wait long. Mr. Wilkinson stood in front of the curtain and put up his hands. When the audience settled down to a dull roar, he spoke up.

“We are excited to bring you the Farley Players'
As You Like It
, by the venerable William Shakespeare, this evening. At tonight's performance, the role of Rosalind will be played by Miss Farley.”

Cries of “Where's Mrs. Ivey?” erupted, along with boos and catcalls. Wilkinson shouted that she'd taken ill, then ran off the stage.

William swallowed hard. His heart beat fast, as if he'd run for miles, and he wondered how Harriet was managing. He'd gone from a man who hated the slightest hint of scandal, to watching as the ward of his future mother-in-law took to the stage, with his consent. He wasn't thinking straight, that much was clear.

The curtain rose. The first scene built up into an angry argument, and the audience simmered down, intrigued by the potential for violence. There were hisses when Harriet first walked onstage, but soon the naysayers were shushed by others who wanted to hear what she was saying.

The features that were striking up close became even more distinguished from a distance. The wide planes of her cheeks and her large eyes caught the light of the chandeliers and reflected it back, so even those in the back row could read her most minute expression. Her deep voice resonated off the walls and her height made her even more commanding.

The story drew William in, even though he'd already read the play in the pub. The actor playing Orlando, the part William had portrayed at Lord Warwick's, was blonde and dashing and he found himself ever so slightly green with envy. He was relieved when they didn't kiss at the same point he and Harriet had. He wanted to be the only one to touch her lips.

The audience laughed in the right places and wept when they should, and William's heartbeat eventually slowed to a regular rhythm. The final scene, when Harriet directly addressed the audience, brought them to their feet, clapping and shouting and leaving no doubt in William's, nor anyone's, mind.

The show, and Harriet's performance, was a resounding success.

Chapter 11

William battled his way to the dressing rooms through the merry mob, congratulating Toby and Mrs. Kembler as he passed, as well as scores of other actors whose names he didn't know. Spirits were high.

Adam, still in his costume, did a little jig. “We did it, didn't we?”

“You certainly did. What a show. It was brilliant.”

“Thank goodness for Harriet, we wouldn't have stood a chance with anyone else taking over that part.”

“Where is she?”

Adam pointed to one of the dressing room doors before being swept up by a group of well wishers.

The door was partly open and William peered inside.

Harriet, wearing a thin silk dressing gown, held court before half a dozen admirers and cast members, all drinking glasses of champagne and talking loudly over one another.

“William, come in, we're celebrating. Do join us.” Harriet's eyes gleamed and she hadn't yet removed her stage make-up. Close up, the greasepaint made her eyes dark and foreboding and when she smiled, her red lips widened garishly. He found it rather unnerving to look at her. But the ingratiating actor who had portrayed Orlando had no such qualms. He perched on the dressing table next to her, so close he was almost touching her arm.

“No, thank you.” William stood stiffly, feeling ever the outsider. “I stopped by to say well done. I'll wait for you outside to escort you back to the hotel.”

“Back to the hotel?”

“No, no, you can't take her away.” Orlando nudged Harriet playfully with his knee. “Harry's the talk of the town. We're heading across the street for a celebratory drink, and she's got to be there.”

The man's use of Harriet's nickname made William want to punch him. “You appear to be celebrating already.”

“Just a bit of fun after a long night,” said Harriet. “Please, have a glass of champagne.”

Wasn't this exactly what the duchess was concerned about? His role as chaperone couldn't have been clearer. He addressed the room, avoiding Harriet's eyes. “I'd like to speak to Miss Farley alone, please.”

Harriet gave William a puzzled look before shooing them out. “Go on, I'll catch up with you in a moment.”

He closed the door and watched her reflection in the mirror as she wiped off her makeup, her familiar features slowly emerging.

Harriet regarded him warily. “You don't seem pleased, my lord. I don't know if you noticed, but we received a standing ovation from an audience that was prepared to fling rotten eggs at us at the top of the show.”

“I did notice. The show was excellent. You were excellent.”

She softened and gave him a shy smile. “Thank you. Then why are you in such a foul mood?”

“I'm not, it's just—”

A knock at the door interrupted him. Mr. Wilkinson entered, grinning from ear to ear and carrying a bouquet of roses.

“My lord.” He nodded to William. “And my dear Miss Farley, these are from some of your admirers. I promised I'd hand them to you personally.”

Harriet placed the roses on the dressing table. “Thank you, Mr. Wilkinson.”

“It is I who must thank you. What a success. And without having to pay Mrs. Ivey's enormous salary. I didn't think it was possible.”

“I'm glad we can help. I assume this means my father is no longer in jeopardy?”

He pulled at his cravat and swallowed hard. “Of course not. You've fulfilled the contract. Besides, I never meant it. Well, I considered it. But it was all business. You might not understand.”

“I believe I do. I asked you this earlier, and I'll ask it once again. Did Bibby's company have anything to do with you pressuring my father?”

“Mr. Bibby? Of course not.”

William could tell the man was lying by the way the pink color splotched over his neck.

“I haven't heard from Bibby in some time. However, with respect to your father, you might warn him to be careful.”

Harriet's eyebrows raised. “What do you mean?”

“There are those who might take advantage of his weakness.”

“Like Bibby?”

“Perhaps.”

“Thank you for the warning. I find it interesting now we've delivered a popular show you're switching allegiances.” Harriet tossed the towel she'd been using to the side. “Now I must pack up. If you'll excuse me, Mr. Wilkinson.”

“Of course, of course. But before you do, there's one more thing I'd like to discuss with you.”

“Yes?”

“Would you be interested in staying here another week? We're booked through the weekend but we could do a repeat performance next Wednesday. I'll double the company's share.”

“You'll need to discuss that with my father. I'm going back to London.”

William breathed a sigh of relief. Circumstances were dangerously close to veering out of his control, and his stomach was tied in knots. He didn't like the way the rake who played Orlando had been so familiar with Harriet. He wanted her away from here. Far away from Orlando and Wilkinson and the rest of the charlatans. Safe with him back in London.

Mr. Wilkinson cocked his head to the side and blinked. “Are you sure about not staying? Why don't you think about it for a day or two?”

William spoke up. “You heard her, that's the last of it. Leave Miss Farley in peace.”

“Yes, my lord. Of course. Thank you.”

Harriet glared at William once the door had shut. “I am perfectly capable of handling Mr. Wilkinson myself.”

He'd come to the dressing room giddy with excitement, ready to grab her and twirl her around. Her performance had affected him at a visceral level, but right now he couldn't express himself clearly. She turned back to the mirror and let down her hair.

He tried not to stare. “What's the connection between Wilkinson and Bibby?”

“My father, being so often foxed and unreliable of late, has put himself at risk. Strolling companies like the Farley Players make their money by setting up regular stops where the actors are expected and welcomed. My father's circuit is, or was, one of the best.”

“And this man Bibby wants to usurp his route?”

“Perhaps.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” He was, but he didn't want her to get any more deeply involved in the intrigue and drama. She must be reminded of her promise. “Your father will have to deal with men like Wilkinson and Bibby directly from now on.”

“I understand. Thank you for the clarification.” Her tone was cold.

“In any event, the duchess will be displeased if she hears about tonight's events.”

She sat back hard in her chair and glared at him through the mirror. “There was no other choice. You were there. You asked what you could do to help! If you're worried I'll remain with the company, I assure you I won't.”

She'd said the words he most hoped to hear. And she was right. He was being an ass.

“Thank you. You're right, I did offer to help.”

She turned around and leaned over the back of the chair. Her skin shone and he couldn't help but notice the way her breasts rose up over the top of the chair back, the pressure only emphasizing their fullness.

“What did you think? Tell me.”

“You were astonishing.” The tug of emotion in his voice caught him off guard. “You had the audience at your feet. And me. After tonight, I figured you'd want to remain on the stage.”

“No. It wouldn't please Her Grace, or Marianne, or you.”

“I appreciate the fact you've taken the family into consideration in making your decision.”

“Of course.” Her dressing grown had fallen slightly open and William tried not to gaze at the exposed triangle of smooth skin below her neck.

“And there was something else I wanted to say before we journeyed back—”

Another knock at the door stopped him mid-sentence.

Miss Entwhistle peered into the room. “Is his lordship here?” Her eyes lit up when she spotted him. “My lord. And Miss Farley, what a lovely job you did tonight. Didn't she do a lovely job?”

William nodded. “Yes. Now what do you want?”

“Yes, right.” She entered the room and did a small curtsy. “I'd like your permission to stay with the company.”

“What?” William and Harriet spoke in unison.

“They need someone in charge of costumes and my fingers are still quite agile.”

William practically sputtered out his reply. “You mean you'd prefer to travel like an itinerant around the country rather than live peacefully in your cottage on the estate?”

He didn't mean for the words to sound so harsh, but the idea that the chaperone desired to run away with the actors, while the charge was willing to return home, was preposterous. Jasper would find the whole story quite amusing, he was quite certain.

Miss Entwhistle appealed to Harriet directly. “You understand, don't you, Miss Farley? I can't sit around waiting for my time to be up. I'd like to do something, to be useful. I feel better than ever.” At this, she gave a trill and whirled around.

For all he knew, she was experiencing a fit of madness and required close looking after. Yet she manifested a surprisingly rational train of thought.

He exchanged a look with Harriet. She nodded at him and he knew she was right.

“Are you sure that's what you'd like to do?” he asked.

“Rather than sit around in a musty room all day, drinking tea? Yes, my lord. Not that I'm unappreciative,” she added quickly. “I know most nursemaids would be over the moon at the many accommodations you've made for me in my waning years. But I didn't know this world existed.”

He preferred to keep her from speaking further, so as not to unduly influence Harriet. “Then you may stay with the company. I'll make sure you continue to receive your pension, of course.”

She ran over, kissed him, and skipped out the door.

He rubbed his cheek once she'd gone. “I find it hard to believe this is the same woman who scrubbed my face raw each morning as a child.”

“You did a wonderful thing letting her go, William. Thank you.” Her voice was strained.

A strange heaviness settled over him. He'd granted one woman the gift of freedom, while another was denied. But he was getting ahead of himself; there was no question Harriet should return to the duchess.

“She seems happy,” he finally said.

“She'll be well taken care of, I assure you.” A mischievous gleam shone in Harriet's eyes. “I think Adam may have a crush on your Miss Entwhistle. That's what Freddie told me. By the way, where is Freddie? I haven't seen him yet.”

“I spoke with him right before curtain. He wasn't too keen on sticking around.”

“He probably wishes he'd been onstage.”

“Freddie will be working again soon enough, once his arm heals.”

“Yes, of course. And we have you to thank for that.” She turned back to the mirror and brushed her hair. “You said you wanted to say something?”

“Yes.” William cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior at Warwick's. We haven't spoken of it and it's important I clear the air before—”

“Please, there's no need.” Her face was pinched.

He was sorry he'd brought the subject up. It wasn't the right time. But what would be the right time? When he was about to marry Marianne?

Harriet twisted her hair into a messy bun. The back of her neck retained a tint of color where it had been exposed to the sun during their journey. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For doing as I said and breaking the curse. It's changed everything.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You're truly crazy.”

She grew indignant. “I'm not. If you hadn't done so, I don't like to think what would have happened.”

“Like what?”

“Your malaria treatment might have failed, the Farley Players would have been run out of town, my father would be in prison. It could have gone to pieces.”

“All because of a silly superstition. Besides, the discovery at the dispensary occurred before the ritual.”

“Then something else awful would have happened.” She squared her shoulders and her dressing gown fell open even further. The tops of her breasts were creamy white and the outline of her nipples shone through the thin material.

“Consider yourself lucky I didn't make you do the other cleansing rituals.”

He tried, with difficulty, to keep his gaze on her face. “And what would they be? Hopping on one foot and singing nursery rhymes? Or tossing salt over a shoulder?”

“Very funny. No. You'd have to wait outside until everyone in the company agreed you may return. And you'd be waiting out there a long time, believe me.”

Her teasing was contagious, but also filled him with pain. Their time together had been a brief digression from their regular lives, and would soon be over. Back in London, this easy sense of intimacy would no longer be possible.

His expression must have darkened, because hers did as well.

“It'll be different, once we've returned,” she said.

“I know.”

He tried to think of her as a younger sibling, the same way he viewed his brother Jasper. But it didn't work. He stared at her, memorizing the way she appeared at this moment. Even though all traces of her stage makeup had been removed, her cheeks glowed from the residual excitement.

The realization came upon him at once, like a sudden blast of heat from a roaring fire.

He was in love.

His possessiveness came from wanting her for himself. His protective instinct toward her, in the forest and just now, stemmed from a desperate longing he'd never felt before. Not only for her luscious figure and face, but a need to know her and have her know him. To tell her things he'd never shared before with anyone.

She turned back to face the mirror. “I should change.”

He wanted more than anything to touch the side of her neck where a tendril of hair had escaped, to run his finger down her shoulders. And do much, much more. Instead, he stood to go.