Mr Darcy Requests the Pleasure

by Elizabeth Aston

  “He wore a cloak just like this,” Octavius said with another flourish of the voluminous garment. “He was a wicked fellow, who abducted the heroine and locked her up in a cellar. We used a barrel for that, and mighty uncomfortable it was, too. Heavens what fun we had. Our performance was much acclaimed.”

  Lady Sarah glanced at him with amused affection and then, struck by a sudden idea, said. “The very thing! Why do not we put on a play? To be sure it as tedious here as though we were at sea on one of those blockades you talk off, with the weather insupportable and everyone wondering how best to past the time. We are all dull, and here we have people enough to act and all these costumes and there is the stage set up in the great Hall.” She darted across to one of the presses. “I am sure I saw…yes, here are the curtains.”

  It was time for the girls to go back to the schoolroom, and with a last look at the glories within, they trailed reluctantly out of the room. As the others followed them, Justin said, “Miss Beckford, did you play a part in this drama that you wrote?”

  Theodosia shook her head. “No, there were only two roles for women and they were taken by the young ladies of the house where the play was performed. That was quite right, for I wrote the parts with them in mind. I provided a musical accompaniment, for however much one makes shift with scenery, music works wonders in keeping the audience in the right mood. Chords in minor keys for moments of melancholy, crescendos for a dramatic climax, rumbling on bass notes for danger… It was all such fun.”

  He noted with appreciation how all this talk of her play had brought colour to her cheeks as well as that sparkle to her eyes.

  Chapter Ten

  Lady Sarah did not let the subject of theatricals drop. At dinner, she talked about the costumes and props in the room upstairs, and shared with Mr Darcy laughing reminiscences of productions in which they had taken part in their younger days. They remembered triumphs and disasters and recalled the time when a local squire had imbibed too freely before the performance and, upon making his entrance, had toppled from the stage into the laps of the audience.

  “And how we laughed when Georgina was in charge of drawing the stage curtains and they stuck, so she gave them a hard tug and down they came, enveloping the entire cast in yards of red velvet.”

  Lady Sarah turned to Elizabeth. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea for us to put on a play?

  “Why, that is an excellent notion.”

  “It is indeed,” Mr Darcy said. “Although do bear in mind how hard it is to agree which play to choose. There is usually so much disagreement and so many arguments that by the time you have decided what to perform, you will find the wind has changed and the tedium you describe is alleviated by better weather. We have some sets of plays in the library, you had better look through them and see if any of them suits your taste and the number of actors you can muster. I think our last play here was a few years ago, when we put on Lovers’ Vows.”

  “No, not that,” Lady Sarah said. “It has no humour in it, except what was provided inadvertently by the actors.”

  Justin said, “Hyde was telling us about a play that Miss Beckford transcribed from a German story.”

  “Yes, indeed it is a capital play, and certainly has plenty in it to amuse an audience.”

  “It is not to be expect that Miss Beckford will have a copy of the play with her,” Lady Sarah said. “Which is a pity, for a gothic play would just suit us.”

  Justin, who thought a play would be highly enjoyable said, “Is Miss Beckford to bring Letty and Camilla down after dinner? In which case we may ask her.”

  Upon her entry into the drawing room with the girls a little later, Theodosia was startled to find herself addressed by Captain Hyde demanding to know what happened to all the copies of The Castle of Wolfenstein.

  Theodosia said, “I’m afraid those copies went to the bottom of the sea. My father told me that he had passed them on to Captain Longfellow of the Robust, but he, poor man, was unfortunate enough to have his ship wrecked. Although all the officers and hands were saved, they could only take a few personal possessions into the boats, so the play went to the bottom of the sea.

  Justin said, “Surely you still had the original that you wrote?”

  Miss Beckford wondered what this was all about. “Yes, yes I did.”

  “And where is this master copy?” Justin enquired.

  Theodosia said, “All my boxes came here, and I believe… I suppose that it will be in there.”

  Mrs Darcy, thinking that this new governess was revealing unexpected depths, made a suggestion. “Instead of music this evening, why do not we gather around the fire and asked Miss Beckford to tell us this gothic tale. Is it suitable for Letty and Camilla to hear?”

  Miss Beckford said, “Oh, as to that, it will do them no harm to hear it, none in the world. It is so full of nonsense and fustian, for that was the style of the German original, that I almost feel ashamed to tell the story. It is a melodrama, but there is nothing in it that would cause offence to anyone. Unless,” she added with a smile, “they had no sense of humour.

  “Good,” said Mr Darcy. “Let us pull up our chairs and be comfortable. Do you sit here, Miss Beckford. You are sure you do not mind such an audience for your tale?”

  “No, indeed.”

  “I am sure if Miss Beckford can sit at the pianoforte and captivate us with a difficult sonata as she did yesterday, a mere story will hold no fears for her,” Justin said, drawing up his chair. “I confess I long to hear the story; a gothic tale is the very thing for such a night as this with the wind howling about us and dark shadows lurking outside the windows.”

  Letty gave a little cry and clung to her mother, who gave her a hug and told her not to be a goose. “Go and sit with your Papa, he will take care you are not frightened, and indeed, what could be cosier than this warm room with the curtains drawn and all the candles lit?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Theodosia looked at the expectant faces all around her, wondered however she had got herself into this situation, took a deep breath and began. “My story is set in Germany—”

  She got no further, as Camilla cried, “Miss Beckford, you must not begin a story like that. It has to start, Once upon a time.”

  “Very well. Once upon a time, in Germany a while ago –“

  She was interrupted again, this time by Letty, who liked to get things straight. “What is a while ago, do you mean last year?”

  “No, I think this story probably happened two hundred or more years ago. It took place in a remote part of Germany, where there are mountains and rivers and great castles set upon the side of hills. And in one of his castles, called Castle Wolfenstein, lived Count Albrecht, with his two orphaned nieces.”

  Camilla said, “How old are his nieces?”

  “One of them was a young lady of some seventeen years, and the other was much younger, she was eight or nine years old.”

  “Good,” said Camilla, pressing herself against her father’s knee with a sigh of satisfaction. “Go on.”

  “Count Albrecht was a melancholy man, who seemed to have a secret sorrow hanging over him. He always dressed in black, and he never smiled and altogether the castle with all its rooms, great dark halls with suits of armour and heads of animals that he had shot in the woods around was a very gloomy place.”

  Theodosia was soon absorbed in the preposterous tale of lost heirs and heiresses, hermits, abductions, rescues, duels and the like and quite forgot that she was at Pemberley, with two young charges listening raptly to her every word. She was transported back into the past, to the cottage in Lyme, with her father sitting in his favourite chair, attentive to every word, and her mother across from him, sewing and occasionally exclaiming at some outlandish piece of the action.

  She finished with a flourish and came back into the present moment with a start to find her narrative greeted with a round of applause and much amusement from her listeners.

  Mr Darcy was laughing so much th
at Letty tugged at his coat to reprove him. “You mustn’t laugh so. It is a sad story, Papa.”

  Camilla was laughing too, “It’s a lovely story. And is it really a play? If it is, then may I take the part of the younger niece? Letty won’t, because she hates doing things in front of people. You can’t even persuade her to recite a poem. And you will need a wolf.” She pounced on her little dog. “Pug can be the wolf.”

  It was decided by general agreement that, if Miss Beckford could discover the play in her boxes, and if the parts could be copied out in a reasonable time, then they would put on the play.

  “Only, do we have enough actors for all the roles?” Octavius said. “For myself, and I brook no argument, I am to play the villain. Justin may be Wolfric, he has the looks for a heroic role.”

  Mr Darcy agreed that he would play Count Albrecht and Mrs Darcy volunteered to be the ghostly wife. Lady Sarah declined to take part in the performance, saying that she didn’t care to be on her feet for too long. “But do not suppose you can leave me out. I shall attend to the scenery and the costumes.”

  “That leaves us short of two of the main characters,” said Mrs Darcy. “Cecilia and Marina, the niece and the long-lost daughter.

  Octavius turned to Miss Beckford. She had foreseen the request and had made up her mind to refuse resolutely to take a part. She had not been at Pemberley long enough, she did not think it wise to join in such an enterprise alongside the family and guests. So she shook her head, and said she would not undertake to act, but would be happy to provide musical interludes and accompaniment as she had done in Dorset.

  Elizabeth said, “I have a possible solution. What do you say, Mr Darcy, about asking our neighbours for help? Olivia Penfold is at home and I believe there is a young friend or relation visiting there at the moment.”

  “That might serve,” Mr Darcy said. “Olivia has taken part in theatricals here in the past and enjoys acting. Let us hope that her friend is of a like mind. If you find you have the play, Miss Beckford, then I will send a message over to the Abbey to ask if the young ladies might be prepared to join us for the play.”

  Elizabeth said, “We shall have to invite them to stay, for I do not think that Sir William will be happy to have them come to and fro in his carriage day after day, as I suppose will be necessary for rehearsals. Not in this bad weather, and I dare say his horses will be wanted on the farm. I am sure they will agree, I expect they are as unhappy cooped up at the Abbey as we are here, and so they will be glad to join us.”

  “That leaves only the character of the landlord,” Miss Beckford said.

  Octavius said, “Lord, I had forgotten the landlord. He is a key character, for, if I remember it aright, he tells all the missing parts of the story that we need to know. Unless you can rustle up another man, Elizabeth, we are a fix.”

  Elizabeth had been thinking, and she said “We can ask the vicar.”

  Lady Sarah gazed at her in astonishment. “The vicar, Mr Cobham? Lizzy, he has such a drone of a voice. Besides, he always looks so solemn, would he approve of our play?”

  Mr Darcy said, “Approve or disapprove, I am certain he would never agree to take part. He is indeed a serious kind of a man. Elizabeth does not speak of Mr Cobham, who is spending some weeks away from Derbyshire. He had an inflammation of the lungs and has gone to stay with his sister in Sussex where the climate is supposed to be warmer and better for his constitution. While he is away, his duties here are in the hands of Mr Giddings, a fellow of St John’s College, Oxford. He is a younger man than Mr Cobham and, who knows? might be inclined to join us.”

  Lady Sarah was doubtful, “Is he an Evangelical? Because if so, then he will condemn even the thought of theatricals.”

  Mr Darcy said, “No, I can vouch for him in that; he is very far from being an Evangelical. He is a clever, witty, lively kind of a man. Excellent company; he has been a real addition to our society this winter.”

  “Then it is all settled,” Octavius said with some satisfaction. “Everything works in our favour; we lack young ladies and there they are; we lack a wicked innkeeper, and there is the vicar. It is destiny.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Despite this initial enthusiasm for the play, Theodosia doubted if anything would come of it. It hadn’t taken her more than a few minutes to lay hands on the script; indeed, she had three copies of it. She looked at the neat copperplate and read the opening words. Memories flooded back, of happier days, but she sent them packing; unlike Count Albrecht, she was determined not to live in the past nor allow regrets to overwhelm her.

  She was mistaken in her doubts, for Justin, who was of much the same opinion, took matters in hand. He knew that such enterprises would always fail if there were not an individual taking care of the overall management of the business. Mr Darcy was obviously a man capable of organising anything, but he was a busy man with his own affairs and his estate to see to. As for Octavius, he candidly told him that, while he was very willing to take part, he had no more idea of how such a thing might go on than when he was a midshipman.

  Justin visited Miss Beckford in the schoolroom, asking if she had found the play. “You have? Well, that is one matter settled.”

  She offered to write out more copies and Letty begged to be allowed to help. “I like copying things out.” This remark caused Camilla to look at her with scorn, but Letty said, “No one will ask you to copy out the parts, Camilla, as you cannot yet write a fair hand.”

  Justin reminded Elizabeth to write to her neighbours at the Abbey and went with Mr Darcy in the carriage to sound out the vicar, whom he found to be just as agreeable as Mr Darcy had said. Mr Giddings was more than pleased to be invited to Pemberley. His duties in the parish were not onerous, since most of them were carried out by a curate, and being a sociable man he found the long afternoons and evenings at the vicarage not to his liking. He was a man of means, he kept his own carriage and said he would be quite willing to come over to Pemberley whenever required.

  Lady Sarah offered her services with a pen, the copies were made, and the young ladies duly arrived from the Abbey. Olivia Penfold was an old friend of the Darcy family, and she was greeted with warm affection by Elizabeth and Lady Sarah. Octavius and Justin were introduced to her, and she made Veronica known to them.

  Olivia was a pleasant-looking, well-bred young woman. She had no pretensions to beauty, but with a merry eye, the blessings of a good temper and a sense of humour was liked wherever she went. In contrast, Veronica Turlington, a connection on her mother’s side, was a beauty. Dark-haired, with an oval face, deep blue eyes and regular features, she would stand out anywhere.

  Miss Beckford noticed with some amusement that she clearly thought well of herself, and was even more amused by the air of condescension when the introduction was made.

  Justin said, “Miss Beckford is the author of the piece which we are to put on.”

  Veronica looked at Theodosia as though she belonged to some strange species in a menagerie. “How very remarkable,” was all she said.

  Chapter Thirteen

  On the way in the carriage, Veronica had questioned Olivia about Pemberley and its inhabitants and guests.

  “Mr Darcy is very rich and a great landowner. The Darcys and the Penfolds have always been friends and he is a good neighbour. Yes, he is married and he and Mrs Darcy have two young daughters. Mr Darcy’s cousin, Lady Sarah Hyde, is staying with them at the moment, with her husband Captain Octavius Hyde.”

  Veronica said, “Are there no other gentleman present?”

  Olivia said, “Mrs Darcy mentioned a Mr Aconbury, a Mr Justin Aconbury. I have never met him, but I believe he is the late Mr Darcy’s godson, for my father remembers him coming to Pemberley as a boy.”

  Veronica was a keen reader of the Peerage. She wrinkled her exquisite nose. “Aconbury? I suppose he must be Lord Aconbury’s son. A younger son; there are several sons and I know the two eldest, for I danced with one of them when I was in town last year.”


  The only detail of the casting that remained was the decision as to which of the two young ladies was to play the role of the companion and lost daughter, and which the orphaned niece. Veronica had been inclined at first to take the role of Cecilia, since a Count’s niece must be superior to a mere companion, but when she discovered that Marina was the heroine of the play, she told Olivia that, since she was the taller, she would be Marina, even though it involved a love scene with Mr Aconbury. Olivia, who thought nothing of it either way, said she was happy to play Cecilia.

  Progress was made as Justin threw himself with enthusiasm into the scheme. Copies were made of the play, fires were lit in the Great Hall, which would, Mr Darcy pointed out, take two or three days to come up to something above freezing point, rugs were laid upon the floor, and a footman staggered in with armsful of red velvet curtains. There was some scenery stored at the back of the stage, and the estate carpenter and his boy were summoned so that, under Lady Sarah’s direction, gloomy interiors and battlements began to appear on the stage.

  The rehearsals were soon under way and amid all the pleasurable activity, the worsening weather was easily forgotten.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was towards four o’clock one afternoon, when the ferocity of the wind was making the fires in the Great Hall flare and dance, that Camilla’s keen ears caught the sound of a carriage. “Who can that be? You come in a carriage, Mr Giddings, but it isn’t you, because you’re already here. No one else would visit at this time and in such a storm. ”

  The rest of the company had heard nothing.

  Letty said to Camilla that she had imagined it, “You are always hearing what is not there,” and the rehearsal continued.

  They were rehearsing a scene in which Count Albrecht, in the person of Mr Darcy, was telling the villain Oswald—played with great gusto by Octavius—to be gone from the castle and never darken its doors again.