A Castle in Cornwall

by Laura Briggs

  The boy in the sweatshirt had climbed into a van. It was pulling away by the time Josephine reached its parking space. She stopped and watched as it drove away. I could see disappointment etched on her face. Breathless, I caught up to her, watching as she turned away to gaze at the disappearing van.

  "Josephine." I tried to catch my breath after this word. She whirled around.

  "What are you doing here?" Her tone was accusatory — and very startled.

  "I followed you." I drew a deeper breath, trying to slow my pounding pulse. "I'm sorry. It's just ... you can't do this. Not to Kristofer, not to your mother. If this wedding is a problem ... you have to talk about it."

  I had no idea what I was talking about — except for the fact that I was very sure that this secret meeting with this young man wasn't something meant to help Josephine's engagement. The pieces in my mind were trying to form a picture, and it was fast becoming one of Josephine loving another person than Kristofer.

  "I don't know what you mean. I just wanted some fresh air." She gazed off towards the desert-like trees and shrubbery which grew alongside the Pavilion's Victorianesque arched entrance. "I've been trapped in that castle for more than a week now. It's unbearable how much everyone worries about someone finding out we're there."

  "I think you came here for something besides fresh air," I answered. "I saw the guy you were following, Josephine. You came here to meet him." I paused, seeing the bride to be blush slightly, although she tried to hide it. "You can tell me the truth. Really. I promise."

  All the color drained from Josephine's face. "I was so foolish," she muttered, at last. "What an idiot I've been. I knew someone would find out. Please," she said, looking at me. "Don't tell my mother. Don't tell anyone about this."

  "I'm not going to," I answered. "I'm not trying to expose you, I just want you to face whatever's wrong before it's too late. Consider the truth about your feelings for Kristofer. He doesn't seem like somebody who deserves to get hurt, if there's someone else in your life."

  One word from Josephine, and I could go back to Azure Castle and pack my bags. There wouldn't be a need for my skills here any longer, and it would be Mrs. Lewison's and the royal family's turn to find the truth about Josephine's cold feet. And as for the groom-to-be, his heart would be broken in two. It wasn't fair, but if Josephine was seeing someone secretly, nothing about this engagement would be fair or happy.

  "He doesn't deserve it, no." She had turned away from me, hugging herself. "It isn't what you think ... it isn't like that. It had nothing to do with Kristofer, really ... not directly." She looked at me. "Promise you won't tell anyone, and I'll explain everything. Only don't tell them I left the castle."

  "I promise," I said. "I mean, you're an adult who should be able to go wherever you want. But considering the event you've let your mother and Ms. Krensky create, it's awfully hard to justify leaving them alone with their guests at tea without so much as a note."

  "I know." She sighed. "But I wasn't planning to be gone for very long. I only wanted —"

  "Everything all right?" A man whom I'd never seen before jogged up to us after climbing out of one of the cars. "Bit of a problem, Josephine?"

  "No, nothing at all, Stefan," she said. "Thank you. Everything's quite fine."

  "All right," he answered. "I'll be going, then." He got into the car and started the engine. I wondered if he was one of the security guards Marjorie warned me about, although his name was familiar. Then I remembered: the same name had been printed on the card of the private detective.

  "You can let your hired car go, if you want," I said. "I'll drive you back to the castle. It'll be less conspicuous that way, since no one will notice your aunt's car."

  "Thanks," she said. She followed me towards the Pavilion again.

  We weren't late for tea, of course, but Ms. Krensky had apparently been hunting for the bride-to-be for the past hour. "There are so many things to discuss," she said, taking Josephine by the arm the moment she found her in the garden. "We haven't even begun to determine the number of dignitaries who might be present —"

  "If you'll excuse me, I haven't had a bite to eat all day," said Josephine, extracting herself from the wedding coordinator's grip. "I would like to attend to my personal matters before the guests arrive." Such a polite, posh tone — and a smile that I wouldn't quite like to have directed at myself, I decided.

  Ms. Krensky froze. "Of course," she said. Politely, although her voice carried daggers now. "It is your wedding, after all."

  "Thank you." Josephine marched into the kitchen. I followed, seeing her take a strawberry tart from a platter of them fresh-baked by Dinah. Who had expressed a need to clear her head by cooking before she began sculpting the molds for her wedding cake decorations.

  "Care to see the progress on your wedding cake?" Dinah asked her, lifting her eyes from the form of a bird carved in soft wood, the shape for the mold. "I've had a thought or two regarding the top layer —"

  "Perhaps later," said Josephine, who had looked interested in joining Dinah until the word 'wedding' was spoken. "I have some things to do."

  Dinah glanced at me, but I was helpless to do more than shrug. I had to keep Josephine's secret, so I made myself busy with a cup of tea, to appear as little involved as possible.

  In the hall outside, we heard voices raised. Helen and Josephine were now having a discussion about her day's plans. The sound of footsteps taking the stairs swiftly in the distance, undoubtedly the sound of Josephine going upstairs alone to dress for tea.

  Mrs. Lewison appeared in the garden a moment later. Through the partly-open kitchen windows, we could hear worried and distressed voices as the matriarch and the wedding coordinator engaged in a quiet but intense conversation.

  "What do you suppose all that's about?" said Dinah.

  "Wedding nerves?" I suggested, stirring sugar into my tea.

  "I think it's a bit more than that," she said. She drew her glasses down and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "It'll be a relief to have the prince come back. It's not fair to have only the poor bride as the object of that scheming planner with her clipboard army."

  Kristofer might not be coming back to good news, I thought. And despite her promise to me, I wondered whether she would be willing — and brave enough — to reveal it to her insistent family at all.

  ***

  Kitty:

  Rehearsals began Tuesday night for A Midsummer Night's Dream. After hours at Cliffs House, I hurried to the theatre, where Gerard had already begun painting forest backdrops with lots of foxgloves and Canterbury bells, and Nora had begun molding a donkey headdress from papier-mâché.

  Millie was trying to get the drapery right for the dresses, swathing Rosie in gauze as she protested, "But it's not me who'll be wearing this stuff — I'm in an evening gown and wings!"

  Nathan was late. I didn't see him anywhere as I tucked myself into a seat with my script, trying to remember my first cue before we began scenes tonight. I glanced around when the theatre door closed in the distance, but it was only Martin hurrying inside.

  Lyle approached. "Like the armor?" he asked. He had decked himself out with an old cardboard shield and sword. "I'm thinkin' maybe Lysander's a bit more of a fighter than lover this time." He made a few jabs in the air, poking me and my script.

  "You always were a scrapper," I returned, without looking up from my pages.

  "Come on, Kat —" he said.

  "Don't call me that," I said, sharply. "I don't like it."

  "Why? 'Cause it was my pet name for you? I didn't think you'd care anymore. All water under the bridge, as they say, since you've got a new bloke hanging 'round."

  "Just stop using it," I said. "Don't make me ask politely."

  He laughed. "You haven't changed, have you?" he said. "What are you doing with that bloke anyway? You hate posh types. And he's one of those toffs who lives on his mobile — probably has an accountant and plans for a little retirement place on the coast." He swayed closer, loo
king into my eyes as he teased me. "Does he take you to Topshop for your birthday? Or Cartier's?"

  Until now I forgot how much I hated the silly faces he made. "Who are you to question what I choose?" I asked. "Runnin' off like that without a word — that's what our relationship came to. Maybe I thought I'd try someone with a bit better manners."

  "Oooh — Kat's claws. I remember those well enough." He held up his hands, defensively. "Here comes loverboy now — best make myself scarce." He gave me a wicked smile as he retreated. A moment later, I felt Nathan's hand brush against my back.

  "Sorry I'm late," he said. He pulled off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. "Are we doing the whole play tonight?"

  "Just a few scenes," I said. "Yours'll probably be one of them." Millie liked to pace through the minor bits in between the principle ones.

  "I'm ready," he said. "I've only got a couple of lines, so I guess it's hard not to be." He flipped open his script. "Not exactly a dynamic role, Starveling the tailor. It could be worse, though. I could've been somebody called 'Bottom.'"

  "Better than ending up as a fairy," said Lorie, sagely, as she tucked a flower into her hair.

  "Mostly kids from the primary play those parts," I said. "Some of Lorrie's class."

  "Didn't you know?" said Nora, who was passing by with an armload of gauzy fabric. "No kids this year. They're doubling up the cast, so all the minor players get two parts." She shuffled a series of printouts in her hand, then gave one to Nathan. "Congratulations."

  He read it, the look on his face growing perplexed. "Peaseblossom?" he said.

  The fairies would all be costumed in spangled leotard and glittery wings. I bit my lip, fighting the urge to laugh as Lorrie did the same. It was taking a good bit of Nathan's nerve to hold himself together in this sudden turn of events. Even so, he didn't collect his coat and leave.

  Millie was sitting on the edge of the stage. "If I could have my Titania and Oberon take the stage, please," she said. Rose hastened up the steps with her script, her hair wreathed in flowers from the prop box. "And her attendants — Nathan, Andy, Louis, and Mickey."

  Nathan made it through both of his lines without stumbling too badly — as Starveling the tailor, since the scene with Titania didn't have any lines. Two of my scenes with Lyle were on Millie's agenda for tonight, and afterwards, we all stayed late to help Gerard paint the scenery.

  At lunchtime the next day, I was doing the same thing. It was quiet at Cliffs House since the posh master of ceremonies was finally satisfied that Michael and I would deliver top-tier dainties for their event, so I donned an old pair of jeans and an old apron from my fish and chips days, and added a touch of color to the fairy lights on the forest backdrop.

  "Want some help?" I gave a bit of a jump. Nathan had come in without me hearing the door swing shut. He leaned against the frame for Oberon's castle, watching me paint.

  Nathan was a better artist than actor — that much I knew from our time together during The Grand Baking Extravaganza. He put earnest effort into helping me paint the colored fairy lights in the forest. That look of concentration was the same one from when we were decorating Dinah's soldier cookies.

  "You don't have to be serious about it," I said. "From the last row, they'll hardly see that we painted anything."

  "Yeah, but this is a part I can do," he said. "Let me enjoy it, will you?" He grinned, sheepishly.

  "It's not about being a brilliant actor," I said. "It's about having a bit of fun, you know. That's why I do it."

  "Lyle's pretty good," he said.

  "He's all right." He was better than all right, actually. Even as a lad, he'd been good at acting, and in school plays when he wasn't in too much trouble. Most of us who behaved that way wouldn't be considered, but Lyle always had a way of persuading people to give him another chance. It came in handy for persuading constables a time or two as well.

  "I thought he was pretty convincing last night," said Nathan.

  I wasn't quite sure what he meant by this. "I could help you run lines, if you want," I suggested. "We could practice together sometimes. If you want to come to Cliffs House while I'm working, it'd be easy."

  "We should run your lines," he said. "As Peaseblossom, I only say two words." He laid aside his brush, careful not to get paint on his suit. He took my hand and drew me to my feet.

  "Think you could make me a better actor?" he said. "Good enough to move up in the cast ... let's say, as Snug?"

  I almost laughed at that. "All you need's a bit of practice," I said. "That's all it is. Learning to put what you feel into a few words."

  "In that case, maybe I want to set my sights further than the town laborers," he said. "Something more dashing. Maybe your friend Lyle can give me pointers."

  "That cad?" I scoffed. "I wouldn't ask the likes of him for help crossing a zebra stripe."

  "I'll put more enthusiasm into my performance, then," said Nathan. With that, he embraced me, and dipped me low suddenly. I let out a little shriek, even though he caught me perfectly.

  "What's his line when he asks you to run away? Something about 'the course of true love never did run smooth — but was to different ...something, something."

  "'Too high to be enthralled to low,'" I said. "It's not Lysander then, it's Hermia."

  "Right. So he says 'or if there was ... sympathy in choice, war, death, or sickness seized it, making it momentary as a sound.'"

  That was pretty good, actually, even if it was a bit wrong. He'd been reading the play and not just his lines. But they were better because it wasn't Lysander saying them, but Nathan himself. I liked that bit best.

  "Think I deserve the part?" he asked, softly.

  "You haven't sold me, really," I answered, wrinkling my nose.

  We'd looked at each other too long. He'd been holding me in this position too long for something not to happen. He leaned closer, and brushed his lips against mine. His heart was beating fast, and I could feel it with my hand pressed close to his chest. Mine was beating fast, too.

  There had been kisses in the past. One last summer at the Minack, one last Christmas beneath a cluster of mistletoe, a few small, stealthy ones here and there that don't count in my opinion, as plenty as they were. But the trouble with being a secret from everybody, even yourselves, is the limited contact it creates. Secrets or no, Nathan was about to kiss me, really and truly, for a third time.

  Suddenly, he drew back. "Breath mint," he said. Apologetically, as he tilted me upright again. "Sorry. I didn't realize —"

  "I had a sandwich for lunch, not fish and chips," I snapped. "At least it wasn't garlic —"

  "Not for you, me," he said. "I had an onion roll at lunch ..."

  "I didn't say anything about it, did I?" I answered, crossing my arms. I was disappointed, angry — and confused that I let such a little thing feel so much more important to me. So what if that was it?

  "No, but it shouldn't be like that," he said. "Even in a spontaneous kiss, it shouldn't mean your first thought should be of rancid food —"

  "Can't say my thoughts were going there," I retorted. Nathan stopped digging through his pocket and looked at me — a long, searching sort of look that made the heat rush to my cheeks again.

  "Well," I said, as we stood there, the distance between us feeling not so far now. "They weren't. Not while there was something else distracting me." My smile was a different one. A bit weak-kneed, the whole sensation, as we looked at each other.

  He had given up his search for the mints for good. I wanted to apologize for scolding him, because all I had wanted was to kiss him. The two of us were returning to that moment ... but that was before a thud was audible behind the curtains.

  "G'day, lady and gentleman of Greece," said Gerard, emerging from backstage with a handsaw and a carpenter's apron full of nails. "Oh, wait — you're not a gentleman," he said to Nathan, with a chuckle. "You're the tailor, aren't you?"

  "Right," said Nathan, with a sigh. "That's me."

  ***
/>   Julianne:

  Ms. Krensky approved of our efforts in the grand hall, and finally gave her consent to Lady Amanda's table arrangement after the conference at tea regarding the who's who of the guest list. With days ticking away steadily until the ceremony, there was no sign that Josephine had expressed any hesitation over going through with her wedding.

  "I'm as nervous as a gnat at the thought of presenting it," said Dinah, who was busy sealing six layer cakes in airtight wax sheets. "I know it's only a trial, but I haven't a clue what flavors to choose if they find vanilla too bland ... or want something a bit fancier than gold leaf on the outside."

  "What's fancier than gold leaf?" asked Gemma.

  "Lots of things," said Dinah. "Chocolate collars are all the rage these days, and the piping on those is quite elegant. And there's the fad for jewel colors to consider."

  Pippa was eating crumbs out of one of the cake tins. "I think it's perfect," she said. "I like the chocolate birds — the whole thing looks rich enough with all the bits and bobs you've added."

  "They're not 'bits and bobs,'" retorted Dinah. "They're extremely delicate ornaments crafted by hand — and for heaven's sake, mind yourself with those tins! They could still be hot, you know."

  This cake was for a 'tasting tea' as Dinah referred to it, when the bride and groom would approve her creation as wholeheartedly as Ms. Krensky. Since I thought the chance of refusal was slim — barring disaster — I didn't feel the same butterflies as Dinah over its presentation.

  Mine returned while I was in my room, emailing Kitty about the flowers' delivery time. I heard a knock on my door, which was partly open. "Come in," I said. Instead of Lady Amanda or Gemma, I found it was Josephine who answered.

  "Might I talk to you?" she asked.