Wicked and Wonderful (4 page)

Margaret continued, “Henry is like the knights of old this morning, on a crusade as it were, he is that intent on our leaving. Would ye be knowing why?”

Judith now understood that Margaret must have somehow learned what had happened on the evening prior. She began to suspect that Henry had seen her with Kelthorne. “Aye,” Judith responded.

When the shouting increased, both ladies stopped to listen, afterward sighing heavily together. Henry was proclaiming in his actor’s voice the absolute necessity of leaving immediately while Charles continued to pontificate equally as loudly on the harm such a move would do to the troupe.

“I imagine by now Charlie is pacing to and fro.”

“Aye,” Margaret said, nodding, “and throwing his arms this way an’ that as though he’s speaking The Bard’s words and not his own.”

Judith sat down carefully on her bed. Although four posts supported the narrow low frame, the corner at the foot of the bed was weak and tended to collapse without warning. “Poor Charlie,” Judith said. “He will not be content until he is roaring like a lion on the London stages.”

“Ye can scarce blame him.”

“No, of course not, but I do grow weary of hearing of his ambitions.”

“We all do. O’ course, this morning he has reason to be upset. Do ye not think so?”

She met Margaret's gaze. “What is it you know?” she asked forthrightly.

Margaret grimaced. “Oh, Judy, is it true? Did ye kiss Kelthorne last night in the orchard?”

Judith closed her eyes. “I fear it is so.”

Margaret gasped. “I had no reason to doubt Henry, o’ course, but I was that shocked, I was.”

“He did see us then? And he told you?”

“Aye.”

“I should have never gone to the orchard. I would wish that stupid dare undone a thousand times. How can I to be so foolish?”

“I canna say,” she responded. “Only how did it happen that ye let Kelthorne kiss ye? ‘Tis not like ye.”

“He caught me stealing his apples and once he discovered that I was a young woman, he demanded a kiss before he would release me. I struggled for a very long time but he is quite strong. In the end, there was nothing for it. So, I permitted the kiss, or, rather, he took it. He would not have released me otherwise.”

Margaret stared at her, a frown pinching her brow. “And ye were aware ‘twas Kelthorne ye were kissing?”

“Aye” Judith returned. “He spoke of the apples as his and then I guessed at his name. He had no reason to deny who he was and I had no reason to doubt him particularly since there was something so commanding in his address.”

Margaret shook her head. “All these years, we was so careful to take care of ye... so many blackguards wat called themselves gentl’men all ready to, well, to not serve ye a good turn as well ye know. Wat? Wat is it? Wat be ye thinking?” She gasped. “Judy, why be ye smiling in that odd way?”

Judith had no desire at all to reveal her thoughts for she had suddenly recalled in brilliant detail all the little whisper-kisses of the night before. Her cheeks grew quite warm. “Nothing to signify,” she said hastily.

“What a whisker—fer yer eyes are as bright as one of Mrs. Marnhull’s copper pots, all polished and gleaming. La, don’t tell me that ye’ve taken a fancy to an earl.”

Judith put her hands on her cheeks as though by doing so she might cool them. “No, of course not. It is just that, well, I had never been kissed before and I had no notion that a man would…” She could not finish her thoughts.

“Wat?”

“Well,” Judith said quietly, grateful for someone to confide in, “as it happens, he blew these little puffs of air against my cheeks and... and elsewhere... and, indeed, I did not know what he was about. Then he kissed me. Is that how it is usually done?”

Margaret's eyes grew very wide. “I never had such kisses before. La, Judy, but he is a rogue.” She then fell to contemplating the notion for a brief moment then suddenly shook herself like a duck emerging from water. “But pay no heed, a rogue’s trick, only. All I wish to know is that ye are not injured. Tell me he did not do ye harm in any way.”

Judith remembered his odd comment that she had been unwise to be abroad since others of less refined and careful notions about ladies would have hurt her. She could not help but smile recalling he had said as much while holding her captive in his arms. “No,” she said. “Not really. He may have a shocking reputation, and he may be a rogue, but he apparently has a set of careful rules by which he conducts himself. He did not hurt me nor do I believe he would ever do so.”

Margaret shook her head in bewilderment. “Ye trust him then?”

“Yes, I suppose I do though I cannot explain it. I believe him to be more a man of art in his conquests than force which I suppose for me is a very good thing, indeed.”

Margaret rose from her seat. “Well, ye had best come. The troupe will want to be hearing from ye. And no matter wat Master Hemyock says, we make our decisions together.” With that, Margaret quit the tent.

Judith tied a blue ribbon around her mass of curls, picked up her portable sewing stand and followed in her wake. By the time she drew close to the fire, upon which Mrs. Marnhull’s largest pot had been set to boil, Charles and Henry were nearly at daggers-drawn. Henry caught sight of her and instantly his demeanor changed. He stood straighter, even turning away from Charles.

Charles, however, addressed her with all the force of his acting voice, each word trembling with emotion. “Ye... would do this to us... again.” He even gestured with a wide sweep of his arm encompassing the entire troupe.

“Oh, do stubble it, Charlie,” she responded evenly. She took up a seat near John and far enough away from the fire to keep from scorching either her skirts or her workbox. “Save your breath to cool your porridge or at the very least for your next performance.” This address of course brought a flame of rage to his face and a round of laughter passing through the ranks. “Now, what is all the fuss?” she added before he could begin another tirade. From her box, she withdrew the boy’s shirt she was presently embroidering with neat, even stitches, took up her needle and continued her work.

“Ye know very well wat this is about,” Henry said. Glancing up at him, Judith could see that he was very angry. “I think ye know precisely wat ‘the fuss’ is.”

She saw that he was restraining himself with some effort. “You must be referring to the Earl of Kelthorne and his reputation.” She lowered her gaze and set another stitch.

“O’ course.”

“But I thought the matter was already settled particularly when we were given permission to stay on his lands.” She smoothed out part of the shirt on her legs and plied her needle anew.

“Aye, but I begin to think maybe he had a purpose in letting us stay on his land and now I think ‘tis true.”

“Humbug,” she declared, meeting his gaze.

He ground his teeth. Everyone was watching him. Little Shelly, Margaret’s daughter of five, sitting on her papa’s lap, pointed at Henry. “Why is Henry mad at Judy?”

John took hold of her little fist and the accusing finger and gently returned her arm to her side. “He wants Judy to be safe is all.”

Shelly turned to look at Judith. “Are ye not safe?”

Judith, near enough to touch Shelly, reached over and tickled her. “I am perfectly safe as Henry well knows.”

John glanced at Judith and smiled in his kind manner, “Are ye certain?”

“Quite,” she responded firmly and set another stitch.

Charles, however, refused to be satisfied with this. “‘Tis the outside of enough,” he said. “Judy is naught but a songstress who we use between the real meat of our performances and yet we are required to arrange our lives around her safety.” He addressed Judith directly. “Ye are scarcely more than a lady of the chorus and no better than an opera dancer, whatever ye pretend to be.”

John intervened. “That’s enough, Charles.” he said sharply. “Judy’s voice has brought in the shillings when our best tragedy could not, so I will hear no more from ye on that head. But there is something else.” Without warning, he jerked the shirt from Judith’s hands and waved it in the air. “There is not a village where we perform that she does not leave clothes fer the poor. And yes, I know that some of the ladies help as well but do ye have even a speck of an idea how kindly we are looked upon fer that? Most gentlefolk scorn troupes like ours, but Judy has opened doors we otherwise could not. This part of our reputation is known all over the kingdom.”

Judith had never heard John so vehement on the subject before, but now she felt embarrassed. She had never meant to have her one little effort at charity to be paraded before the troupe in such a manner. She was certain the effect would only be to increase the resentment toward her. There was nothing to be done, however.

“I believe you make too much of the matter,” she said firmly, taking the shirt from him. “And if you have lost my needle, I shall insist you purchase another one for me.”

She met John’s gaze and shook her head. Even Margaret understood the volatility of the situation and laid a hand on her husband’s arm.

Charles grew sullen, turning to sit on a log beside Horace who scooted away from him. He picked up a stick and poked angrily at the fire so that sparks rose in the air.

“Wat do we do then?” Betty called out.

Freddy sitting next to her groaned loudly and exclaimed, “Zeus, Betty. Do ye never eat anything but onions?”

Betty laughed heartily at this, slapped Freddy on the back and blew her breath on his face. “Oy am particularly fond o’ onions and Mrs. Marnhull says I may eat as many o’ them as I like.” She rose and moved to stand near Charles. Lifting a challenging brow to Judith, she said, “I quite agree with Charlie. We should stay. And if proper Miss Judith can’t manage the gentl’men, I shall be happy to do so for her.” She swung her hips, clucked her tongue, and rolled her eyes.

Margaret covered Shelly’s eyes. “Betty,” she complained.

“Aw, she’ll learn soon enough.” Betty responded. She sat down at the long bench next to the table and this time blew her breath on Bobby.

In response, he gave her a strong pinch. A row might have erupted had Henry not suddenly said, “I will help take every tent down, I am that convinced we should leave. John, will ye not agree with me?

John tilted his head. “Our camp is all but settled, as ye can plainly see, and Judy is not troubled, not by half. I am that sorry, Henry, but I believe we should stay.”

The majority of the actors added their agreement to John’s pronouncement. Henry grimaced a little more, breathing hard through his nostrils.

John, always ready to navigate swiftly the shoals of troupe tensions, added, “Since I can see that ye are overset, wat do ye say to three days? If Kelthorne has bothered any of the ladies during that time, then we shall follow yer bidding and move on to Devonshire.”

“Oy wouldna mind if Kelthorne bothered
me,”
Betty called out. “Judy, if he sets to pestering ye, give him a nudge in my direction.”

Bobby jumped to his feet, stepping several feet away from Betty. “I agree, Judy. If ye need protection, send Betty. Her dragon’s breath would slay a thousand rogues.”

Laughter passed round the troupe once more. After a moment, John reverted to the subject at hand. “Henry, will ye agree to that?”

“I don’t see as I have been given a choice.”

“What say ye, troupe?” John asked. “Those fer three days, say aye.”

The resounding collection of
ayes
silenced Henry. He cast one last rather fierce glance at Judith then turned to set up his tent anew.

Charles, on the other hand, moved in Judith”s direction and with a well-aimed blow, overset her worktable. She caught it before it fell to the ground but cast him a scathing glance.

She was not surprised at his antics. Charles Hemyock had been angry with her nearly from the first. There was nothing to be done, however. Only when she had saved enough money to purchase her cottage, a dream she had had from the first, would she be free of such troublesome moments. For now, she must endure.

*** *** ***

Three days later, Kelthorne sat in the front row of the King’s Theatre in Portislow, tapping his foot in frustration. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed heavily. “I knew I should not have come tonight. I have traveled twenty miles today and I had rather be at home.”

“Yes,
but I had rather be here. ‘Tis not my fault you must spend your days searching for your bewitching
Judith
but I, after all, am your guest,” Laurence said. “Your first duty should be to me. Besides, I have been given to understand that this particular troupe is superior in every manner. There will be a few dramatic presentations, a farce or two, a demonstration of swordplay and perhaps a song. I also heard they have excellent jugglers.”

“Oh, well, then,” Kelthorne responded facetiously. “If there are to be jugglers, then I will cease my complaining on the instant.”

“I refuse to feel sorry for you.”

“I cannot credit that she seems to have disappeared into the earth. Not a single family has owned to the possession of a daughter of such a description. And I went to countless neighboring villages and hamlets, conferring with the admiral of the blue in each location and the vicar in many more but came away with nothing. Nothing. It is as though she never existed, that I only dreamt her.”

“Perhaps she is with the troupe.”

He shook his head. “If you had heard her speech, in every nuance that of a lady of quality, you would dismiss the notion as readily as I did. Besides, she was especially offended when I asked her the very same question.”

His gaze drifted to the chairs stationed near them. “Do you know that lady? The one whose face is nearly white from powder?”

Kelthorne also glanced at her. She was smiling and waving at him. He lifted his hand and smiled in acknowledgement. “One of the local gentry, but I do not know her name.”

“And she does not have a daughter with dark wavy hair?”

“She tried to tell me she did,” he whispered. “She is the fixture seated beside her.”

Laurence glanced askance. “Good God,” he muttered. “Platter-faced with a nose even Rufus would envy.”