The eager, tipsy crowd cheered again. Thea flashed a smile at Luxborough and began her tale.
Chapter 5
Rafe let his head fall back against the wall with a thump. This was meant to be a quiet evening.
But not with Thea Knight, who couldn’t sit in a simple blasted chair and tell a simple blasted story without involving every blasted person in the entire blasted room.
And were they involved! Awaiting their entertainment as eagerly as in a real theatre.
He used to enjoy the theatre, Rafe remembered suddenly. How had he forgotten that? Even as a boy and a youth, he loved watching the frequent amateur performances by his parents and their friends. The magic of it thrilled him, the way his imagination would take over, making it real, so when it ended, he would blink with surprise to find himself seated in the middle of a crowd.
And then—what happened? In America, even when he and Katharine had no money, he had stopped for performances in markets and fairs by traveling theatre troupes. But since Katharine’s death, he had not watched a single play. It was a simple pleasure, yet he had let it be taken from him.
“Rosamund,” Thea explained to her tipsy audience, “is the brave, honorable daughter of a rich merchant. One day, at a picnic, she overhears the two knaves making secret plans. She hides in the shrubbery to listen.”
“Rosamund” curled her hand around her ear in a dramatic portrayal of eavesdropping.
The audience was enthralled.
“These two knaves are noblemen,” Thea said, as the knaves strutted about. “They are scoundrels, utter villainous blackguards who deserve to have their—”
The crowd cheered and booed, drowning out Thea’s words. Rafe didn’t need to hear the words to understand the rage simmering under her good cheer. He found himself sitting forward on his seat.
She calmed the crowd and continued.
“Rosamund overheard these knaves placing bets on who could first ruin fair Lady Letitia, by seducing her and telling the world.”
Bored gentlemen were known to make dubious bets, although this sounded worse than most. He remembered little of Percy Russell—Percy had still been a schoolboy when Rafe eloped with Katharine—but he recalled her saying that her brother had been almost sent down from Eton over a betting scandal.
“One hundred pounds says I can ruin the lady first,” said “Percy.”
“One hundred pounds says I can ruin the lady first,” said “Francis.”
Boos from the crowd egged them on into a torrent of coarse euphemisms.
“I’ll feed her pussycat!” one yelled.
“I’ll visit her at Bushy Park!” cried the other.
“We’ll honeyfugle!”
“We’ll fuddle!”
“We’ll splice!”
Thea banged a knife against a metal tankard to bring them to order. They muttered apologies, the crowd quietened, and Thea continued. “Brave Rosamund knew she must warn Lady Letitia.”
“What dastardly knaves they are!” cried “Rosamund”. “I must warn Lady Letitia!”
“Oh!” cried the other serving woman, running onto the makeshift stage. “I’ll be Lady Letitia!”
“Then who’s going to fetch our ale?” someone yelled.
“Fetch your own bleeding ale,” she yelled back. “I’m an actress and a lady now.”
To demonstrate this, she stuck her nose in the air and pointed one boot-clad toe in a dainty manner.
“I must talk to you, Lady Letitia,” said the woman playing Rosamund.
“Do not talk to me, merchant’s daughter. I’m too good for you.”
The crowd booed and hissed. Thea, looking worried, waved her hands and said, “No, no.”
Too much, Rafe thought, and surrendered to his imagination, letting the taproom melt away and the play unfold.
Narrator: No, no. That isn’t what happened.
Rosamund: Fine, I’ll let them ruin you, then.
Crowd: [Cheers.]
Narrator: No. Rosamund does not say that. She’s our noble heroine and she must warn Letitia.
Rosamund: Very well. I must warn you: Those knaves have a plot to ruin you.
Narrator: The two knaves approached Lady Letitia and sought to woo her.
[The knaves go to Lady Letitia and take her hands.]
Percy: Fair lady, let us play the game of see-saw.
Francis: Beautiful lady, let us dance the goat’s jig.
Narrator: Gentlemen. Please.
Letitia: You have made a bet to ruin me. I shall not be seduced.
Narrator: The scoundrels’ game was ruined! They were furious and demanded to know who told.
Percy: I am furious!
Francis: I demand to know who told!
Letitia: [points at Rosamund] It was Rosamund, the merchant’s daughter.
Narrator: The dastardly knaves vowed to get revenge.
Percy: We must get revenge!
Francis: Revenge on the merchant’s daughter! Bwah-hah-hah. [Pause] How do we get our revenge then?
Thea looked around at the crowd. “We need someone to be the rich merchant, Rosamund’s father.”
A graying man jumped up and strutted across the stage. “I am very rich. I feast on roast beef every day.”
Unfortunately, this boast set the crowd to booing.
“No, stop,” Thea said. “He is not a bad man, but he is very ambitious, and he desperately wants his daughter Rosamund to marry a nobleman, for the good of his whole family. May we continue?”
Narrator: Percy, to get his revenge, asks the merchant for permission to court his daughter, which pleases the merchant.
Percy: I am a nobleman. I want to marry your daughter.
Merchant: Right you are. Ahoy! Rosamund! Shake your tail with this nobleman then.
Narrator: Rosamund doesn’t like Percy the Dastardly Knave, but she does want to please her father.
Rosamund: Very well. You may seduce me.
Percy: Let’s have a nice game of bob-in-joe.
Narrator: No! That’s not what happened. He doesn’t seduce her.
Percy: What? Why don’t I get to seduce her?
Rosamund: And why don’t I get to be seduced?
Narrator: Wait and you’ll see. Settle down.
Percy and Rosamund: Oh, very well, then.
Narrator: So Percy took Rosamund and her father to a fine ball, where Rosamund and Percy danced.
There followed an interlude where the crowd sang and clapped a rhythm, and “Percy” and “Rosamund” danced. Rafe fell back against the wall, his unease growing. Thea caught Rafe’s eye and shrugged, apparently cheerful, as she continued her narration.
“But Percy’s father—a great lord, mind you—was very angry!” She stopped. “We need a great lord to be very angry.”
Two men bounded forward, both loudly insisting they had the necessary anger to be the great lord. While they argued, Thea dashed over to Rafe.
“That’s Lord Ventnor,” she whispered. “But it didn’t happen quite like this.”
“Did it not? You astonish me.”
“I mean, I—” She stopped short and bit her lip. “Thea only knew about Francis Upton and another man, so she had no idea Percy Russell was involved. I simplified it so as not to confuse anyone.”