Playing the Part

by Jen Turano

  Eyeing stairs that now seemed downright daunting, he drew in a breath, hitched Miss Plum up a little higher in the hopes it would distribute her weight more evenly, then began to climb, counting the steps as he did so.

  “. . . forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine . . . You’re really quite sturdy, aren’t you, Miss Plum? Fifty . . .”

  By the time he eventually reached the tower room, he was completely out of breath, perspiration was dribbling down his face, and his arms were no longer simply quivering, they were now downright shaking. Stepping through the door of the tower room, he faltered for a moment, wondering what he should do next.

  “You can just set me down right here, Mr. Haverstein.”

  Miss Plum’s voice took him by such surprise that he almost dropped her right on the hard stone floor of the tower room. Looking down, he frowned when he saw something in her lovely eyes that he’d never, not once, expected to see, something that resembled, if he wasn’t much mistaken . . . amusement.

  He’d always been under the impression that Miss Plum, being a fragile sort, possessed a somber and serious demeanor, spending her time away from the theater in a subdued fashion, embroidering samplers, or perhaps pillows, as she lounged on a settee, or learning her lines from the comfort of her bedchamber, but . . . what if he’d been wrong?

  What if Miss Plum was not as delicate as he’d believed, and what if the woman he’d been enamored with for what seemed like a very long time, turned out to be completely different than what he’d imagined her to be?

  “How long have you been out of your swoon?” he asked.

  “Would you be very upset to learn that I never swoon?”

  His mouth immediately took to gaping open. “Do you mean to tell me that you allowed me to scoop you up off the ground—which wasn’t an easy task by the way—carry you into the castle, and then all the way up a tremendous number of steps when there was absolutely nothing wrong with you?”

  “I did.”

  “I could have suffered an injury.”

  “You seem to be remarkably fit, Mr. Haverstein, and I certainly couldn’t own up to the fact I was feigning my condition, especially since I was doing so to aid dear Abigail.”

  Bram set her on her feet and rubbed his arms. “My arms feel like jelly.”

  “I’m sure they do. You carried me a remarkably long distance, and I will admit that I was concerned you were going to drop me a time or two.” She pursed her lips. “Quite honestly, I was going to tell you to put me down right about step number forty-nine, but then you made that remark about how sturdy I am, and . . . I changed my mind.”

  “I said that out loud?”

  “Indeed.”

  “I do beg your pardon.”

  Miss Plum waved his apology straightaway with a delicate flick of her far-sturdier-than-he’d-believed wrist. “Think nothing of it. I’ve never been what anyone could call a waif. Truth be told, it takes an entire theatrical village to stuff me into those corsets so that they can then stuff me into those costumes my fervent admirers apparently enjoy seeing me in, but . . . that’s not a subject we should be delving into—especially since I seem to be missing my self-proclaimed chaperone at the moment. I’m sure she’d be appalled to hear me discussing unmentionables with you.”

  “I’m right here, dear, and yes, I do most heartily disapprove of unmentionables being brought up in polite conversations, as you very well know,” Abigail said as she took that moment to breeze into the room. She stopped and beamed at Bram. “Unmentionables aside, though, aren’t you just a dear for taking such excellent care of my darling Lucetta when she was in distress and I was, er, unavailable?”

  Bram felt his lips begin to curl. “I have a feeling, Grandmother, that you were fully aware of the fact your darling Lucetta had absolutely nothing wrong with her and was simply putting to good use her acting abilities in order to spare you a confrontation with my mother.”

  Abigail stepped to his side, lifted her chin, and reached up to pat his cheek. “You’re a dear boy, with a chivalrous heart, even if you have yet to explain why you’re wearing this patch when you have no need of one.”

  Since he certainly wasn’t comfortable telling his grandmother the truth, he settled for summoning up a smile. “It’s difficult to explain.”

  “Is it now?”

  “Indeed, and since I do seem to be dripping all over the Aubusson rug, which is surprising since it seems like forever ago that I took those dips in the moat, I’m going to excuse myself and leave you to see after Miss Plum.”

  Beating a hasty retreat, even as he thought Miss Plum muttered something about a coward, he headed down the tower stairs and turned into the main section of the castle. Striding to his room, he opened the door and found Stanley waiting for him, laying out clean clothes from the looks of it.

  He stepped farther into the room and shut the door firmly, causing Stanley to jump almost a foot into the air before he spun around.

  “You have to stop sneaking up on me like that, sir.”

  “Forgive me, Stanley, I didn’t mean to take you by surprise.”

  Stanley raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sure you didn’t, sir. It’s just with the ghosts running amok at all hours of the night, ladies descending on us in droves while participating in all types of unladylike shenanigans, and now a grandmother I never knew you had showing up out of the blue, and in the company of Miss Lucetta Plum no less . . . well . . . I’m a little on edge.”

  “There are no ghosts inhabiting Ravenwood.”

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that, sir. But speaking of your other grandmother, why is it that none of us have ever met or heard of her before?”

  “My mother does not enjoy an amicable relationship with my grandmother, so in order to maintain a peaceful existence with my mother, I’ve had to keep my grandmother at arm’s length. My grandmother, however, has been going to fairly great lengths of her own over the past few years to get to know me better.”

  Stanley tilted his head. “How so, sir?”

  “She happens upon me at the oddest of times and places when I am in the city, and has even been known to steam past the dock here at Ravenwood, although she’s never stopped before.”

  “And you haven’t taken the time to invite her in?”

  “I’m not proud of that, Stanley. I just haven’t really known what to do, given that acrimonious relationship my grandmother shares with my mother. But now that both ladies are here, under Ravenwood’s roof, at the same time, we’re either going to see them set aside their differences once and for all, or . . . someone’s probably going to get arrested.”

  “A cheerful thought, sir.”

  “Indeed, and on that cheerful note, I should go clean up.”

  Pulling his wet shirt over his head, Bram headed for the bathing chamber, pausing as he passed a mirror and getting a glimpse of his reflection—the glimpse reminding him of something he had no idea how to address. Lifting up the patch that covered his eye, he directed his attention to Stanley again.

  “Why didn’t anyone mention to me that I was wearing this before I charged out of the castle?”

  Stanley scratched his head. “Begging your pardon, sir, but since your vision has to be obscured while wearing that patch, I assumed you knew you were wearing it. Quite honestly, I thought you kept it on in order to appear more intimidating. You know—a pirate look, if you will.”

  “I had to admit to Miss Plum that there’s nothing wrong with my eye.”

  “And . . . that was difficult for you, sir?”

  “Do you know how odd she must find me now, learning that I run about with a patch over a perfectly good eye?”

  “She wouldn’t find you odd if you just told her the truth.”

  “I can’t tell her the truth—or anyone else for that matter. Why, it would kill my mother if she found out.”

  “Now you’re being a little overly theatrical, sir. But speaking of theatrics, you could tell Miss Plum that you were trying to
get into the role you’ll be expected to play later on this week during the theatrical event your mother is hosting here at Ravenwood.”

  “Mother’s hosting another one of those theatrical events at Ravenwood?”

  Stanley released a loud sigh. “Do you ever check the calendar I keep for you?”

  “I thought we agreed that you’d discontinue acting the part of my secretary?”

  “I never agreed to that, but do know that when someone more capable of being a secretary or even a valet, for that matter, comes looking for a position, I’ll gladly abandon those duties. For now, though, you’re a gentleman with severe limitations on your time, which means you need all the assistance you can get.”

  Bram smiled. “And while I appreciate that, Stanley, I don’t like the idea of you spending so many hours every week working in order to make life easier for me, while making it more difficult for you.”

  Stanley lifted his nose in the air. “Since it is my time, sir, it’s up to my discretion how to use it, and until I feel I’ve sufficiently repaid your kindness for rescuing me from a life that would have eventually seen me locked away behind bars, you’ll just have to humor me.”

  Knowing he’d lost the battle before it had really even begun, Bram blew out a breath. “Fine. Have it your way. But getting back to the theatrical event, do you think Miss Plum would believe me if I told her I was wearing that patch in order to get comfortable with a role?”

  “I imagine she would, although, now that I think about it, using that as an explanation might turn problematic if the play that’s to be performed doesn’t have a pirate in it.” Stanley frowned. “But pirates aside, sir, why are you so overly concerned about what Miss Plum thinks of you?”

  “I never said I was overly concerned.”

  Stanley’s eyes widened. “She’s the lady you hold in high esteem—isn’t she!”

  Seeing absolutely no benefit in denying it, Bram shrugged. “I might hold her in a bit of esteem.”

  “Good heavens, sir, I would have never guessed Miss Plum was the lady we were only recently speaking about, and . . . how peculiar that we were just speaking about her and . . . she shows up in your moat.”

  “It is an odd coincidence to be sure.”

  Stanley suddenly looked a bit too knowing. “Your affection for the lady certainly explains much, especially your interest in the theater and . . . using that interest to delve into different aspects of your work.”

  “I’m sure I have no idea what you could be suggesting.”

  “And I’m sure you know exactly what I’m suggesting, sir. Nevertheless, since you seem unwilling to explain what prompted you to take on work you had little time to take on, we’ll save this discussion for another time.”

  “Must we?”

  Stanley sent him a sad shake of his head. “You’re burying yourself in secrets, Mr. Haverstein, and secrets have a way of rising to the surface when we least expect them to do so. You might want to consider divulging a few of those secrets, before they slip out on their own and cause you all sorts of difficulties.”

  With that rather ominous statement, Stanley sent Bram a single nod, brushed a piece of lint from the jacket he’d laid across the chair, then turned and quit the room.

  7

  I know I said it just a few minutes ago, but it truly does deserve repeating. Your quick thinking and subsequent swoon when Iris arrived so unexpectedly was completely brilliant. You, my darling girl, saved me from a most unpleasant encounter with my daughter.”

  Scooting down into the bubbles, Lucetta peered over the rim of the claw-foot tub, not really surprised to discover that Abigail was actually dragging a chair into the bathing chamber. It was a normal occurrence these days for Abigail to use the bathing chamber as the perfect place to hold a chat, the perfection of the plan being that the person in the bath was held completely at Abigail’s mercy.

  “So, tell me, what did you think of my Bram?” Abigail asked as she settled herself in the chair, looking as if she fully intended to stay for a while.

  “Don’t you think we should discuss your daughter first?”

  Abigail immediately turned stubborn. “Not particularly. There’s nothing much to say about Iris other than that she loathes me and we don’t share an amicable relationship. Now Bram, on the other hand, is a delightful subject to speak about.”

  Lucetta settled into the bubbles. “Why do you imagine he was wearing that patch when there’s evidently nothing wrong with his eye?”

  “It was so gallant of him to whisk you into the castle and bring you up to this tower room, wasn’t it?” Abigail countered, as if Lucetta hadn’t posed a question.

  “Do you believe he enjoys assuming a pirate persona when he’s at his leisure? Although . . . now that I consider the matter, what does he do when he’s not at his leisure?” Lucetta countered right back.

  Abigail crossed her arms over her chest and immediately took to looking a little grumpy. “I’m not exactly certain what Bram does, dear. My son-in-law, Phillip—Bram’s father—made a rather large fortune when he invested in a sugar plantation years ago down in Cuba. Because of that fortune, Bram, along with his brother and sister, aren’t required to pursue professions, or make advantageous marriages, although . . . I’m sure Bram does something to occupy his time.”

  “And the fact that your family is well-set financially annoys you because . . . ?”

  “Phillip’s surprising procurement of a fortune—when I was quite certain he would never amount to much—made any assistance from me, or my late husband, Charles, unnecessary or, more importantly, unwanted.”

  “Ah, now I’m beginning to understand. You don’t care for your daughter’s husband.”

  “I’d really prefer not to discuss Iris or her husband, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “You must know that you’re not going to be able to avoid Iris for long. I didn’t get the impression she was the type of woman to be content with not having her say. And I do believe she has quite a few things she wants to say to you.”

  Abigail took to looking even grumpier. “I’m sure she does, which is why it’s so disconcerting to discover there is so much I haven’t been informed about—such as the fact that she recently bought an estate not far from here, or that she apparently no longer spends the entire fall in Cuba. If I’d been apprised of those situations, well, I certainly wouldn’t have suggested we seek refuge at Ravenwood. But . . . we’re here now, and I intend to hide out with you in this lovely bathing chamber until Iris gets tired of waiting to speak to me.”

  “You do know that we could be stuck up here for quite some time, then, don’t you?”

  “Which is why it’s a fortuitous circumstance that the tower is so well-appointed, as is the rest of the castle from the small glimpse I got as I was making my way—very stealthily, of course—up here.” Abigail suddenly took to inspecting the sleeve of her gown. “I couldn’t help but notice that Ravenwood would make a splendid spot to hold a wedding. Why, this tower room would be the perfect place for a lady to get ready, and then . . .” Abigail looked up, a faraway expression in her eyes. “The bride could descend the staircase with a train flowing gently behind her . . . Why, I can picture it in detail.”

  “You should put those types of details straight from your mind, Abigail,” Lucetta said. “I have no intention of getting married anytime soon, nor would my choice of groom be your grandson.”

  “Why not? Bram’s a delightful gentleman.”

  “Who happens to be a great, great admirer of my work.”

  Abigail leaned back in her chair. “I knew you were going to take issue with that.”

  “And for good reason. If you haven’t noticed, most admirers of my work—gentlemen admirers, that is—have the unpleasant habit of holding me in high esteem, that circumstance brought about through the unfortunate infatuations they develop for me.” She blew bubbles off her hand. “Once they become acquainted with the real me, I’m afraid they quickly lose all interest and
never darken the steps of the theater again.”

  “I’m sure Bram will appreciate everything about you even when he does get to know you better.”

  Lucetta wrinkled her nose. “Thank you, I think, but Bram didn’t seem to appreciate carrying me up all of those steps, especially since he made mention of how sturdy he found me to be.”

  “He did not.”

  “I assure you, he did, although in his defense, he believed I was unconscious when he uttered the whole sturdy nonsense.”

  “Well, that’s a relief, and . . .”

  A knock on the bathing chamber door interrupted whatever else Abigail had been about to say. Rising from the chair, Abigail walked across the room. “Who is it?” she called through the door.

  “It’s Mrs. Macmillan, ma’am, the housekeeper.”

  Opening the door, Abigail poked her head into the main tower room. “Ah, Mrs. Macmillan, how wonderful to make your acquaintance. I’m Mrs. Hart, Mr. Haverstein’s grandmother.”

  “Yes, I know” was Mrs. Macmillan’s only response before she cleared her throat. “I’m here to tell you that Ernie has located your carriage in the forest and driven it back to Ravenwood. Your horse is being cared for in the stables, and I’ve taken the liberty of having your trunks, Mrs. Hart, taken to the blue room. If you’ll look behind me, you’ll see that I also had some of the staff cart Miss Plum’s trunks all the way up many, many stairs, delivering them to the tower room.”

  “How very efficient you seem to be, Mrs. Macmillan,” Abigail said with a touch of amusement lacing her tone.

  “Quite.”

  Abigail pulled her head back into the bathing chamber and began to close the door.

  “I wasn’t done yet, Mrs. Hart.”

  Abigail straightened her spine and lifted her chin, something that would have had a normal housekeeper thoroughly cowed. It quickly became clear that Mrs. Macmillan was no normal housekeeper, though.