Miss Billings Treads The Boards by Carla Kelly

Author:Carla Kelly
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Publisher: Camel Press
Published: 2013-11-21T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Dinner was a quiet affair, eaten again on the stage, which by now had been swept clear of bat leavings and scrubbed until the boards squeaked. Using the charm that had probably mollified many a reluctant merchant and creditor, Ivy had convinced the bakery two doors down to allow them cooking facilities. She and the younger Bladesworths produced a hot meal that brought cries of delight from Malcolm.

He clapped his arm around his wife. “I don’t know how she does it, Hal, but we have never starved.” He kissed her cheek. “An enviable achievement, considering the precarious nature of our profession.”

“And look at this,” Ivy said with a flourish, as her youngest daughter walked carefully onto the stage, “and all for the promise of tickets to our opening performance.”

It was a cake of three layers, frosted white and decorated with sugared violets and roses of marchpane. Maria hurried to steady the cake as it threatened to topple off the plate. They set it on a wooden crate amid exclamations and applause.

Malcolm kissed his wife again. “Ivy, dearest, this goes beyond your previous achievements.”

“It was luck,” she said modestly. “I happened to be in the shop when news came that a groom had cried off and there would be no wedding feast.”

“One hates to take pleasure in the misfortunes of others, but how well we have benefited,” Phoebe declared. “And who should do the honors?”

“I suggest our newest married couple,” said Malcolm.

Kate blushed and protested, but took the knife from Phoebe.

“Well, do your duty,” Malcolm reminded the marquess, who joined Kate and grasped the knife, too, resting his hand lightly on hers, his other hand around her waist.

They cut through the cake, Kate with her tongue between her teeth, intent on slicing through roses and violets, and Hal with his eyes on Kate.

“Do not stare at me so,” she whispered, “or I shall make a mistake.”

“Some would say you already have, by marrying an actor,” he said, loud enough for the runner to hear as he sat on the edge of the stage, apart from the others.

The remark called for some reply. “I know my own mind,” she said softly, as tears filled her eyes. Why am I so missish, she asked herself, as the marquess kissed her cheek. Is it because this is so improbable? Or is it because I am such a fool? I couldn’t possibly love him; I don’t even know him.

The cake was delicious by everyone’s account, so Kate could not imagine why it tasted like sawdust to her. She watched the others: Phoebe and Gerald sitting together, smiling messages meant for only each other; Maria shyly offering cake to the runner; and Ivy and Malcolm leaning against each other, with their little girls close by, concentrating on their rare treat. If this theatre fails, she thought, these dear people will be without resources and at the mercy of the parish workhouse. She set down the rest of her cake.

“Excuse me, but I am going for a walk,” she mumbled and hurried from the stage.

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