Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind (21 page)

Lucinda scampered to the front of the room. She arranged the skirts of her pale blue gown, laced her fingers together, and adopted an expression of supreme misery. “I am Juliet,” she said in sepulchral tones and launched into her memorized speech. “Oh, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, from off the battlements of yonder tower…”

Sir Anthony felt his heart complete a leap of its own, but the sensation of joy was short-lived. The look of pure contempt she radiated at Avery made it clear to whom she was addressing this diatribe. The fact that she had to turn her head to glare at him over her shoulder diluted the impact not one whit.

“Or walk in thievish ways,” she continued. “Or bid me lurk where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears..

He closed his eyes and entertained a vivid image of Lucinda chained to a cage in the royal menagerie at the Tower of London, her eyes brimming over with tears, gazing in terror at the moldy old bear kept captive there.

“Or shut me nightly in a charnel house, O’ercover’d quite with dead men’s rattling bones, With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls; Or bid me go into a newmade grave..

Now there was an idea …

“And hide me with a dead man in his shroudThings that to hear them told have made me trembleAnd I will do it without fear or doubt, To live an unstained wife to my”-she paused to turn a brilliant smile on Sir Anthony-“sweet love.”

Lucinda smiled and curtsied as if the room had burst into applause after her performance. In reality, the squire was the only one who had the presence of mind to applaud his daughter. Mrs. Barrington was too occupied with dabbing at her tear-filled eyes to clap, and Avery seemed to have eyes only for Ginny.

Sir Anthony mechanically brought his hands together and glanced at Ginny. She sat like a statue with the same look of polite interest she had worn since Lucinda began. When had she learned to do that? He felt sure she was laboring under the influence of some strong emotion, and it was not like her to keep her feelings from at least surfacing across her expressive features.

She must have felt his gaze upon her, for she turned in his direction, allowing him to see the wealth of sadness lingering in her magnificent eyes. A moment later, she was clapping and had turned to Lord Avery.

“I believe you are next, my lord,” she said with a sincere smile.

Lord Avery rose to his feet with obvious reluctance. It was difficult to fathom that such as he could ever regret the opportunity to wax eloquent. Perhaps he had something against Shakespeare. No doubt if Avery were expected to read his own words, he would show greater enthusiasm. For one terrifying moment Sir Anthony felt sure Avery would do just that, for he slipped a slim volume from his inner coat pocket.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Avery said with a slight bow. “I bring to you tonight a pair of sonnets from the revered William Shakespeare” He made a great show of clearing his throat, fixed his ardent gaze upon Ginny, and began. “Being your slave, what should I do but tend, Upon the hours and times of your desire?”

Sir Anthony, very interested in Ginny’s reaction to Avery’s words, saw her stiffen. True, Avery glanced at her whenever he could manage between lines, but the words were simply the lines of a sonnet. There could not be any significant meaning, could there?

“I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor services to do, till you require. Nor dare I chide the worldwithout-end hour, Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you.”

Sir Anthony began to feel a trifle uncomfortable. Avery’s words and manner were so intense. It was clear they held some deeper meaning for him. He darted a swift glance at Ginny who sat very still, her eyes fixed on her hands held rigid in her lap. At least she was not blushing. That he could not have abided. He was so absorbed in his thoughts, he did not hear the remainder of the sonnet until the closing couplet.

“So true a fool is love that in your will, Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.”

Sir Anthony felt the blood run from his face. Those were certainly the words of a lover. Now that Lucinda was betrothed to another, Avery was free to pursue anyone he chose. It seemed his intentions were now all for Ginny-his Ginny!

The next sonnet was very much the same, though with a more impatient, fervent quality. Again, the closing couplet claimed Sir Anthony’s unwilling attention.

“I am to wait, though waiting be hell, Not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well”

What was it Avery was waiting for? Some word or sign from Ginny? He tried to keep his head from jerking in her direction, to no avail. She looked to be in an agony of indecision, her fingers twisting together, her thick lashes veiling her eyes. What could prove to be so difficult for her? Unless, of course, she had some feelings for him.

Sir Anthony forgot to applaud this time. It hardly mattered. Everyone else was clapping wildly, even Ginny. His applause would not be missed.

“Miss Delacourt,” he shouted above the din. “Pray, do not keep us waiting.”

“I hope that you will all find my selection pleasing,” she replied without looking up.

With a calm Sir Anthony was sure she did not feel, Ginny took her place at the front of the room. She opened her mouth but snapped it shut again when her eyes met his.

Drawing a deep breath as if to brace herself for a great ordeal, she said, “I have taken my selection from The Taming of the Shrew.”

There was an audible gasp from Lucinda and Avery, and from someone else Sir Anthony suspected might have been himself. Ginny colored to the roots of her delicate brown curls. No wonder the girl found her lot so difficult. Her audience’s reaction was to be expected, but surely, she was not to play the shrew after those times he had accused her of being one?

“Ah, The Taming of the Shrew, the Shrew,” the squire said with delight. “One of my favorites.” He settled back into his chair, dodging a glare of admonition from his dearest wife.

Ginny smiled. “I am glad to hear you say so, squire.” The knowledge seemed to give her courage for the smile remained, and she proceeded without any sign of a doubt or qualm.

“Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign, one that cares for thee, And for thy maintenance commits his body To painful labor both by sea and land, To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure, and safe; And craves no other tribute at thy hands But love, fair looks and true obedience, Too little payment for so great a debt..

Ginny bowed her head and curtsied, illustrating her words, then flashed Sir Anthony a look so arch, so coy, that he was cast into confusion. Surely she could not be employing sarcasm; it was not like Ginny to veil her words. Then again, he could not believe for one second that she meant a word of what she was saying. Fascinated, he gave her his full attention.

“Such duty as the subject owes the price Even such a woman oweth to her husband, And when she is forward, peevish, sullen, sour, And not obedient to his honest will, What is she but a foul contending rebel And graceless traitor to her loving lord?”

This was new. Could she be apologizing for past offenses? He reached up to touch the still-purple bruise from the binding of that book.

“I am ashamed that women are so simple To offer war where they should kneel for peace, Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway, When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth, Unapt to toil and trouble in the work, But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts?”

Sir Anthony restrained himself from leaping to his feet. This was not the Ginny he knew at all. She might be a dab hand at battering gentlemen with books and reticules, but there was little more about her he would wish to change. The thought of a weak and vaporish Ginny, who mindlessly obeyed and always said what was acceptable in spite of her own thoughts made Sir Anthony’s stomach turn. Worse, the thought that he had somehow been responsible for the creation of this submissive attitude reduced him to a state of intense sorrow.

“But now I see our lances are but straws,” she continued, “Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare, That seeming to be most which we indeed least are. Then vail your stomachs, for it is not boot, And place your hands below your husband’s foot In token of which duty, if he please, My hand is ready, may it do him ease.”

She finished with a flourish of her arms, extending the said hand to… Avery? He seemed to think so, for he leaped to his feet and, taking the hand in his, kissed it.

As Avery led Ginny to her seat, she gave Sir Anthony the most heartfelt look of mingled hope and sorrow to which he had ever been subjected. Sir Anthony stared after her, puzzled, unsure what to make of it. Did she think she must somehow change in order to win his love? If that were the case, he knew the words he had chosen to speak tonight were all the right ones. Unlike Ginny’s presentation, however, his would leave her in little doubt of the exact state of his heart.

Ginny took her seat and attempted to persuade her heart from pounding out of her chest. She had never done anything so daring in all her life. She rarely had trouble expressing her thoughts and emotions, but she had never before worn her heart on her sleeve in such a daring fashion. She had not been sure she could go through with it. She had not been sure Sir Anthony would understand either. All she could do was hope.

As she prepared herself for his recitation she attempted to feel as poised and calm as she hoped she appeared. Surely whatever Sir Anthony had chosen for his presentation, it would be dull and unremarkable like the Hamlet soliloquy or some prosy sonnet. Nevertheless, if he turned to Lucinda and asked if he should compare her to a summer’s day, she would scream!

Ginny stole a glance at Lucinda and thought she looked as if she expected some great words of love and romance from her Sir Anthony. She would do well to remember the words, “rough winds do shake the darling buds of May”

Sir Anthony stepped to the front of the room. Lucinda preened and tossed her curls, gazing at him in great expectation. Sir Anthony smiled at her and said, “I have chosen a few words from The Tempest. Mine is not a soliloquy but a stringing together of some choice words out of the mouth of Caliban. I hope that is acceptable to you all?” He glanced from one face to another for their approval before he began.

To Ginny’s amazement he used no text or notes and was able to give his full attention to his audience. No doubt he would quote some words of admiration Caliban said of the beautiful Miranda but to whom would he look? Ginny was gratified when he turned his dark blue eyes on her. She looked down into her lap, unable to meet that unwavering gaze, and was unprepared for the intensity of his voice, the meaning behind his words.

“This island’s mine,” he said, thumping his chest. “By Sycorax my mother, Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first, Thou strokedst me, and madest much of me, wouldst give me Water with berries in’t. And teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night..

Enthralled by the pleading in his voice, Ginny could not help but look up, only to encounter such tenderness in his expression that she thought she could not bear it. Even so, she was not prepared for his next words. Or were they only those of Caliban?

“And then I loved thee ..: ‘

Ginny’s heart leapt into her throat.

“And showed thee all the qualities o’th’isle, The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place and fertile. Cursed be I that did so! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!”

Startled by his change in tone, Ginny glanced again at his face. She expected to see his mouth twisted in a sneer appropriate to his words, but he was looking at the ground, and his expression was one of great sadness.

“For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king. And here you sty me In this hard rock whiles you do keep from me The rest o’th’island. Oh ho, oh ho! Would’t had been done! Thou didst prevent me. I had peopled else This isle with Calibans.”

Ginny was shocked. This blatant reference to progeny was embarrassing to say the least. A tide of scarlet washed over her at the thought of her producing little Sir Anthonys as well as his implication, in front of the entire household, that there had been opportunity for her to do so. At least he admitted she had prevented him.

Then again, perhaps it was her prevention of his “seducing” of Lucinda to which he alluded. Could he, pehaps, be begging her parents pardon? How did it help to get him out of his engagement to Lucinda?

Ginny tried to catch his eye, but he continued to look away until the end of his recitation. “You taught me language, and my profit on’t Is I know how to curse. The red plague rid you For learning me your language …”

Her language. Had her self-serving plan to teach him true speaking succeeded so well? Surely it had not caused him as much pain as it had the imprisoned Caliban?

“Bravo, bravo, Sir Anthony.” The squire rose from his seat and pounded Sir Anthony on the back. “I deem myself proud, proud indeed to have such a talent about to make himself a member of the family.”

Ginny wanted to cut the squire’s tongue out. She had heard all she wished with regard to his daughter’s impending marriage to Sir Anthony. He had said he loved her, looked right at her when he said it; she would hold onto that for as long as it took. But how long would it take the perfectly proper Sir Anthony to jilt his intended?

Lucinda appeared to have as many questions. “Why, Sir Anthony,” she said, “that was most romantic.” She wrinkled her brow. “That is, some of it was. The rest of it seemed rather nasty and I didn’t understand much of it, by half, but I am sure it was meant to be most complimentary.”

Sir Anthony took the hand Lucinda extended to him. “I pray that you not reflect too much upon it, Miss Barrington. I meant you no slight.”

Lucinda gave him a perfunctory smile, her eyes glazing over. Clearly the poor thing was just as confused as ever.

“Well, that certainly was enlightening, Sir Anthony.” Lord Avery had risen to his feet. “Need I remind you of that appointment I spoke of earlier? I hope to meet with you soon.”