Page 17 of A Perfect Engagement
Chapter Eight
Charlotte twisted thering on her finger round and round as she listened to Mr. Greely read aloud his passage fromOthello. The poor man paid no mind to the mistakes he was making but barreled forward with the scene at top speed. She had no idea if he was terribly nervous or if he thought his own embellishments made the piece better.
She was next. This evening’s entertainment, dramatic readings from the works of Shakespeare, had seemed like an excellent idea. But now faced with the reality of standing up in front of all these people, she was terrified.
Eleanor leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Stop worrying. You are prepared. You can just read the scene right from your paper if you need to. Though you won’t need to; you know the play by heart.”
Charlotte took a deep breath. Ellie was right; she knew every line inA Midsummer Night’s Dream. The scene she chose was witty and tragic all at the same time. She hoped it would be entertaining. Mr. Greely finished his piece, and the guests all clapped politely.
Her mother rose from her seat. “Next, my daughter will read a selection fromA Midsummer Night’s Dream.” She clapped as she threw Charlotte a pointed look.
Charlotte gathered her folder from under her chair and took her place in the front. Dozens of eyes stared at her expectantly. “Um, tonight I will be reading from Act Three ofA Midsummer Night’s Dream. Puck has put the potion in both Lysander’s and Demetrius’s eyes, and poor Helena is quite confused why suddenly they both are professing their love for her instead of her petite friend, Hermia.” She swallowed, trying to clear her dry throat. All her preparation dissolved as everyone waited for her to begin. She fumbled with her folder. She would just read it from the page. That would be easier.
When she flipped open the folder, instead of her notes, there was just one piece of paper with a cartoon drawing on it. The caricature depicted a lady in a puff-sleeved dinner gown standing in front of a roomful of people. The cartoon lady in the picture towered over all the guests, and instead of a human head, she had a donkey’s head, with long ears and large buck teeth. What in God’s name was this? Was this supposed to be her? Charlotte’s hand shook. She looked up at the audience, frozen.
Her gaze collided with her mother, who sat in the front row. Her mother’s eyebrows shot up in question. She whispered, “Charlotte, get on with it,” before turning to smile at the lady next to her.
“O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine.” Daniel stood up from his seat in the second row, where he sat next to Edward and his wife. “To what, my love, shall I compare thine eye? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show. Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow, Fann’d with the eastern wind, turns to a crow. When thou hold’st up thy hand: O, let me kiss. This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!”
Charlotte blinked several times. All the guest switched their focus to Daniel. He stood at ease while he recited Demetrius’s line. His eyes focused on her, and the warmth in the golden-brown depths melted some of her panic. She loved this scene, where Helena, the girl who is always overlooked, suddenly has two handsome men professing their love to her. Helena’s reaction was hilarious. She took a deep breath.
“O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent. To set against me for your merriment,” Charlotte projected her voice loud and clear. This time when everyone turned to look at her, she raised her chin and shook her fist in the air as she channeled Helena’s frustration. She continued, “If you were civil and knew courtesy. You would not do me thus much injury. Can you not hate me, as I know you do, but you must join in souls to mock me too? If you were men, as men you are in show, you would not use a gentle lady so; To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, When I am sure you hate me with your hearts. You both are rivals, and love Hermia; And now both rivals, to mock Helena.” Daniel gave her a wink, then he sat back down. Charlotte sucked in another gulp of air. “A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, to conjure tears up in a poor maid’s eyes. With your derision! None of noble sort, would so offend a virgin, and extort. A poor soul’s patience, all to make you sport.”
At the end of the scene, the audience clapped loudly. Charlotte gave a curtsy and hurried to her seat. Her cheeks burned with heat. But it wasn’t from embarrassment. It was excitement. She couldn’t believe she had just successfully pulled that off.
When she slid into her seat, Ellie leaned close. “Amazing, Charlotte. Good job.”
“Did you see me freeze?” she whispered.
Susanna leaned in from Charlotte’s other side. “Hawksridge was amazing. He saved you.” She squeezed Charlotte’s hand. “You are so lucky.”
“This is why I was so panicked. I went to read my notes and found this instead.” She opened the folder and showed her friends the caricature. Both ladies gasped so loudly, the guests sitting nearby turned to glare at them. Charlotte quickly shut the folder.
“Who would do such a thing?” Ellie asked softly. Her cheeks were red with anger.
Susanna pursed her lips. “I didn’t know Miss Thornton had any talent for drawing.”
Charlotte agreed. She looked across the room to where Miss Thornton sat with her parents. The lady slid her a sideways glance, her expression sour. Miss Thornton had been famous for playing mean tricks on girls in their finishing school. Charlotte had been a target of her pranks before, but she not had to socialize with the lady in years. Damn her father for insisting Lord and Lady Thornton be invited. All he cared about was furthering his own social standing by mingling with the viscount.
Somebody from behind them made an annoyed shushing noise. “Let’s talk about this later,” she whispered to her friends.
She focused her eyes upfront to the young lady reciting fromThe Merchant of Venice, but her thoughts remained on Daniel. He had saved her from utter embarrassment. He had agreed to keep up the charade this week to protect her reputation. Saving ladies in distress must be a family trait.
*
Daniel glanced atthe clock on the mantel. Half-past twelve. He sighed as he set down the book he had been reading. His eyes burned from reading by firelight, and he was no closer to sleep than he had been an hour ago. Earlier during the evening’s entertainment, as he listened to several young ladies butcher many of his favorite passages fromThe Merchant of Venice, he’d had to suppress his urge to yawn. Then the young man who read fromOthellohad been so comically ill-prepared, it had been near impossible not to laugh.
The only reader to capture his attention was his brother’s fiancée. Her nerves had gotten the best of her at first, but once she began to speak, it was as though they were the only two people in the room. Her piece spoke volumes about how she felt about herself. Like Helena, she didn’t seem to recognize she was the most beautiful girl in the room. Daniel imagined he was the Fairy King with the power to make people fall in love with whomever he wished. Then perhaps he could enchant the lovely Miss Grisham.
She’d worn a gown of sky blue this evening. Its shimmery fabric wrapped her curves beautifully, showcasing the flare of her hips before cascading down to the ground. Some sort of gauzy white fabric trimmed the neckline of the gown, its sheer fabric unable to hide the ample swells of her breasts. Daniel shifted in his chair, uncrossing his legs to sit more comfortably. He was never getting to sleep if he kept thinking about Miss Grisham’s bosom. He shouldn’t be contemplating them whatsoever. She was going to be his sister-in-law for God’s sake.
What he needed was a drink. He shrugged into his evening jacket and headed back downstairs. As he walked through the front hall, a sleepy-eyed footman straightened to attention. Daniel smiled at the young man as he walked by. Poor bloke got stuck with the night shift. Loud, raucous laughter rung out from behind the drawing-room door. Daniel paused, suddenly reluctant to enter and have to socialize with Lord Markham’s cronies. Perhaps he could find someone to fix him a sandwich and a glass of milk in the kitchen. Then he could slip back upstairs and finally get some sleep.
At the end of the corridor to the left, an archway led into a portrait gallery. It was a long, narrow room with high ceilings. He could just discern the shadowed paintings which covered the walls. To the right, a staircase curved down to what Daniel hoped were the kitchens. At the bottom of the stairs, he entered a large room dominated by a great stone hearth. A fire crackled cheerfully. Unlike the dim hallway upstairs, the kitchen was still lit by a dozen sconces. An older woman, who he recognized as the housekeeper, was the first to notice him standing in the threshold.
“My lord.” She gave him a small curtsy. “Is there something I can get you?”
The butler, who had been sitting at the table in the center of the room, stood. Both servants wore a look of mild shock to see him standing in their space. Perhaps he should have rung for someone.
