Carola Dunn by Christmas in the Country

Author:Christmas in the Country [Country, Christmas in the]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

The panelled gallery rang with raised voices as the first reading of She Stoops to Conquer, on Boxing Day, degenerated into an argument.

“Well, I shall bloody well go,” said Kate Hardcastle in Aimée’s obstinate tones.

“But a Servants’ Ball,” Mrs. Hardcastle protested. “We’re not servants.”

“We haven’t been invited to the nobs’ ball,” pointed out Young Marlow, the juvenile lead.

“Nor we won’t be,” Hastings seconded him.

“It’s just a bit of fun and gig,” said Tony Lumpkin, “and one or two of the maids are devilish pretty.” Bob Dandridge had kissed the girl who carried his coat while he showed off atop the Yule log, Prudence recalled. She herself had had to give him a stiff set-down when she first joined the troupe. Fortunately he was not one to hold a grudge.

“No wenching with the maids,” commanded Mr. Hardcastle, owner, manager, and director of the company. “We don’t want to go looking for trouble. But I don’t see why them that chooses shouldn’t go to the ball. Now let’s get some work done, if you please, ladies and gentlemen.”

The reading continued. Prudence was quite satisfied with her secondary part as Constance Neville. Some of the things Young Marlow said to Kate Hardcastle when he believed her to be a servant were decidedly improper. Though Aimée took it all in her stride, Prudence was sure she herself would have been disconcerted, not to say embarrassed. Hampered by her upbringing, she began to wonder whether she was really cut out to be an actress.

Constance Neville and her betrothed, Hastings, were much more decorous. The worst they did was plan to run away together to be married.

Admittedly Prudence had to flirt with Tony Lumpkin, Mrs. Hardcastle’s good-natured but loutish son, pretending to be in love with him. However, she had already made it plain to Bob Dandridge that where the stage directions said: “They retire and seem to fondle,” he was to observe the “seem,” not the “fondle.”

All the same, she winced when she thought of Lord Rusholme watching that particular scene. It could only reinforce his assumption that she was a wanton lightskirt.

The reading ended, with Tony Lumpkin jubilantly renouncing Constance Neville’s hand in favour of her faithful Hastings, and Aimée coyly accepting Marlow. Mr. Hardcastle sent them all off to start learning their lines. Prudence and Aimée retired to their small shared chamber, perching on the bed for want of chairs.

For a while silence reigned, broken only by occasional mutters. Prudence had no difficulty with this part of the acting business, since many hours of her childhood—the majority, she sometimes felt—had been spent learning Bible verses by heart. To Aimée it was agony, and she soon asked for help. In tutoring, too, Prudence had experience. Aimée was duly grateful.

“I’ll lend you a gown for the ball tonight,” she proposed. “You haven’t got anything pretty.”

“I wasn’t going to go.”

“Course you’ll go, Sera! It’s not like it was the Cyprians’ Ball in London, with all the Fashionable Impures parading about and the gents looking for a new convenient.

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