Page 16 of The Duke's List
Mrs. Oxley was ensconced in the sitting room pretending to be engrossed in her needlework, but tendrils of her hair spilled out beneath a lacy mobcap, and she did not appear to have taken time to put her stockings back on, a fact she seemed to be trying to hide beneath a footstool. Sidmouth knew for a fact their four strapping sons would have been busy at the cider mill all day.
He followed the man to his study after exchanging pleasantries with his wife.
“We have a pack of sheep wandering too close to the bluffs over by the lodge again. I know most of the farm workers are busy taking apples in to the cider mill, but maybe we could hire Mrs. Bourne’s father-in-law to help with herding the sheep back over here. We probably need help as well with mending the fence line to keep the stubborn creatures where they belong.” He wished keeping his duchess from wandering were as simple. If only.
“Good idea. I’ll ride over tomorrow to see how many sheep are loose and if Major Bourne is interested in some work for the estate.”
After he’d bid the man good-bye and started back to Bocollyn House, he was nearly bowled over by his young ward, Nicholas, the Marquess of Blandford.
“Uncle Sid, Uncle Sid.”
Sidmouth smiled at the boy’s exuberance and quietly thanked the good lord for sending Lieutenant Bourne to his cousin Harriet, the boy’s mother. He’d long suffered from stuttering after a traumatizing incident with his uncle after his father’s death. Lieutenant Bourne had taught him how to smooth over his speech problem with daily practice down by the ocean with pebbles in his mouth. Before his intervention, the letter “S” had been beyond Nicholas’s ability.
“Slowly, Nicholas. Take your time. What’s so important that brings you out here?”
“The actors are in our new theater practicing their parts before supper. You have to come see Aunt Jane play Beatrice with Mr. Hawley.”
At that prick to his ego, he matched his pace to the boy’s running skip. Wouldn’t do to let that smooth bastard Hawley paw at Jane on the pretext of playing a part.
From the glowingwall sconces to the bright reflections of the candelabra set over mirrored trays along the tables, Jane was glad she’d had the Bocollyn staff make an extra effort for the supper for the actors’ troupe. Everything was perfect. She’d grown fond of Mr. Algernon and his wife, Franny, in the short time they’d been at the estate. She wanted to make sure the celebration in honor of their new family theater was perfect.
Nicholas ran up to her, breathless. Aunt J-Jane. H-how do I look in my costume?” Jane, who would be doing another practice scene with Joseph Hawley, was also in costume. She crouched down to the boy’s eye-level. “Nicholas-you know how to slow down to smooth out your speech. You can do this. You’re going to surprise your mother tonight with Claudio’s speech about how he’s come to love Hero.
Nicholas stared at the floor before she chucked beneath his chin to get him to look up at her. “You’re going to be a wonderful Claudio and make your mother proud. All you have to remember is to take your time and think about the next word-one word at a time.
Sidmouth glided up to them and Jane couldn’t stop herself from fiddling with the laces at her bodice. When she finally got the courage to look up into his eyes, he gave her a slow wink.
“Where did you disappear to so suddenly this afternoon?” He motioned to one of the footmen carrying trays of flutes of champagne. After giving her one, he took two for himself and let Nicholas sip from one.
Jane finally answered. “Um…Harriet. Harriet asked me to help her find something to wear tonight.”
“My cousin has more gowns in her wardrobe chests than any woman I’ve ever known. Why on earth would she need help finding something to wear?”
Jane grinned. “She needed help finding something thatfit.”
Sidmouth gazed heavenward, shook his head slowly, and then turned to Nicholas who was plucking at his sleeve. “Yes, Lord Blandford?” He smiled down at his cousin’s son. The boy looked as if he were bursting with questions.
“I’ve been practicing Claudio’s parts in the play all week, and there’s something I don’t understand.”
Sidmouth nodded. “I’ve seen this particular play performed many times over the years. Perhaps I can explain.”
“Why does everyone believe Hero is a bad person? And why does Claudio love her one minute, but the next he hates her just because someone tells him he saw her kissing someone else?”
Sidmouth glanced at Jane with a stricken look. “Sometimes, we men let our pride get the better of us. If you love someone, Nicholas, you should trust them no matter what the rest of the world says or thinks.” When he stepped closer and put his arm around her shoulders, Jane did not pull away.
“Oh my lord,when you went onward on this ended action, I looked upon her with a soldier’s eye, that liked, but had a rougher task in hand than to drive liking to the name of love;
“But now I am returned and that war-thoughts have left their places vacant, in their rooms come thronging soft and delicate desires, all prompting me how fair young Hero is, saying, I liked her ere I went to wars.”
Sidmouth joined the wild clapping at the end of Nicholas’s slow, but measured Claudio speech. Next to him, Harriet’s eyes brimmed with tears. He surged to his feet to continue clapping, and the actors followed suit.
When he motioned for his guests to take their seats, Jane gave the signal for the servers to bring in the sherbets and petit fours.
When she walked to the small, temporary stage that had been set up in the hall for that night’s entertainment, Joseph Hawley joined her to give a short scene of the banter between Benedick and Beatrice.
Hawley began the lines in the middle of a short scene where their friends have plotted to make them think each is in love with the other.
“They say the lady is fair. Tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous. Tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but or loving me; by my troth, it is not addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage; but doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humor? No; the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor I did not think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day! She’s a fair lady. I do spy some marks of love in her.