Playing the Part

by Jen Turano

  Bram frowned. “It’s simply a social group, Ruby. If you want a serious production, you’ll have to go to the city.”

  “And maybe I’ll do just that,” Ruby said with a wink sent Lucetta’s way. “I’m sure Fauna would be more than happy to put in a good word with her theater company, which would then see me landing a choice role to play.”

  Before Lucetta could do more than release a single sputter, Bram shook his head. “You may be brilliant with investments, sister dear, but an actress you’ll never be, so . . . leave the script alone.”

  Waving his admonishment away as she rose to her feet, Ruby looked past Bram right before her smile widened. “Oh, look, it’s”—she lowered her voice—“Mr. Skukman. Although he and I decided he’s to be a Mr. Smith this evening. If you’ll excuse me, I want to show him this script, because there’s a part I believe he’ll be perfect for.”

  With that, Ruby hurried away, looking over her shoulder a second later. “Nice wart by the way.” Laughing, she turned her head and continued forward, taking hold of the arm Mr. Skukman offered her. With heads bent closely together, they walked into the crowd gathering in front of the ballroom and disappeared.

  “Well, I suppose that answers the question I was going to pose to my sister,” Bram said. “And since that’s that, shall we repair to the ballroom and find a seat to watch the drama I’m certain is about to unfold? I know my grandmother and Archibald are already there.”

  “I thought Archibald was still under the weather.”

  Bram smiled. “He claims to be fit as a fiddle, although I’ve been told that Mr. Kenton’s rheumatism is now acting up, which is why Grandmother has ordered him to stay in bed, read books, and not give her any trouble about following her orders.”

  Lucetta smiled. “They’re very sweet together, your grandmother and her butler.”

  “I’m surprised they haven’t killed one another over the years, and honestly, you’re going to have to stop smiling, because those teeth . . .”

  Pressing her lips together, she took the arm he extended and walked with him toward the ballroom, stopping when a well-dressed young lady reading a script suddenly wandered right in front of them, lifting her head as she mouthed one of the lines, her eyes widening when she caught sight of Bram. Lowering the script, she immediately turned a bright smile Bram’s way.

  “Mr. Haverstein, everyone was so hoping you’d come to rehearsals this evening. Dare I believe that you’ve decided to actually try out for a part?”

  “I’ll think I’ll leave all the parts for my guests, Miss Cooper, but I do thank you for thinking about me.” He pulled Lucetta forward. “Have you met Miss Fauna yet?”

  “Fremont,” Lucetta corrected.

  “Exactly, Miss Flora Fremont,” Bram corrected.

  “It’s Fauna,” Lucetta whispered, even though she knew Miss Cooper wasn’t paying a bit of attention, given that the lady was gawking at the wart on Lucetta’s face.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Cooper,” Lucetta finally said when Miss Cooper actually leaned forward, with a finger raised, as if she was about to touch the wart on Lucetta’s face.

  Pausing with her finger only inches away from Lucetta’s wart, Miss Cooper scrunched her brows together. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss, uh . . .”

  “Fremont,” Bram supplied. “She’s Miss Fauna Fremont, a dear friend of the family.”

  “I’m your distant cousin,” Lucetta said, smiling back at Miss Cooper, who blinked and immediately took to looking a little queasy.

  “Perhaps the two of you should go find a seat, before they’re all taken,” Miss Cooper said as she edged ever so slowly away from Lucetta.

  “Thank you, dear,” Lucetta said.

  Ushering her quickly into the ballroom, Bram laughed. “You’re a very odd woman, Miss Fauna Fremont,” he said before he walked her across what was normally the ballroom floor, but was now lined with a few rows of chairs. Bringing her to a stop in front of two chairs that had been placed out of the way by a stained-glass window, he saw her seated, then sat down beside her.

  To pass the time, Bram took to telling her about different Tarrytown residents who’d shown up for rehearsals, all of those residents bent over their scripts and looking quite serious about the business at hand. When Lucetta remarked on the seriousness, Bram smiled.

  “Local events are not to be discounted as frivolous endeavors, Lucetta. The ladies who are in charge of our theatrical shows take these events very seriously, and there have been many a hurt feeling when people have been turned down from a role they particularly wanted.”

  Lucetta blinked. “They really do turn you down?”

  Bram blinked right back at her. “You’re not truly considering trying out for a part, are you?”

  “Of course I am. I’ve never been one to sit in the audience.”

  “What if you don’t get chosen?”

  She rose to her feet and smiled back at him, causing him to wince again. “That sounds like a challenge, so . . . be prepared to be amazed by the incredible acting abilities of Fauna Fremont, your . . . cousin.”

  Bram glanced around and then frowned. “Everyone else trying out seems to have a script.”

  “Please, I’ve already read the script, and I’ve chosen the bit part of Mrs. Nesbit. She has two lines, although it’s an interesting part since she’s been written as an annoying neighbor who drops in to borrow tea every day.”

  Lifting her chin, Lucetta was about to recite her lines to prove her point but was interrupted when someone clapped their hands, drawing everyone’s attention.

  “If we could have everyone who’d like to read for a part come up to the stage, we’ll get our readings and then subsequent rehearsal under way,” a voice called from where a stage had been erected at the far end of the ballroom.

  “Well, this is it,” Lucetta said. “Time to see what Fauna can do.” With that, Lucetta drew in a deep breath, adjusted her posture so that she was slouching exactly how she imagined Mrs. Nesbit, the character she wanted to play, would slouch, and then limped away, smiling ever so slightly when she heard Bram release what sounded exactly like an appreciative laugh behind her.

  16

  I never thought I’d say this, but I do believe I’ve suddenly acquired the most unusual desire to tread the boards.”

  Rising to his feet when he realized Abigail had joined him, Bram saw her settled into the very chair he’d just vacated before he grinned. “If you’d really like to give it a go, Grandmother, I do have a small bit of influence with the ladies who are organizing this event, although . . .” His grin widened. “I might have to offer one of them the full benefit of my name to get you a lead part.” He winked. “Those parts are incredibly sought after.”

  Abigail returned the grin as she gestured to the chair Lucetta had been sitting in. “You’re a bit of a scamp, dear, but I do enjoy you. Care to keep your old grandmother company?”

  Taking a seat, Bram nodded. “I’d be delighted to keep you company, Grandmother, but . . . where’s Archibald?”

  Abigail’s eyes began to twinkle before she gestured to the stage. “That poor dear got coerced by some sweet young ladies into trying out for the role of butler. Apparently they have not had enough gentlemen show up this evening, which begs the question of how you got out of taking to the stage.”

  “I’ve let the ladies host their event in my castle.”

  “Your mother offered up the castle.”

  Bram smiled. “Well, true, but . . . weren’t we talking about Archibald?”

  Abigail wagged a finger his way. “I see how you are now, but . . . yes, Archibald.” She looked to the stage, and Bram wasn’t certain, but he thought he heard her release just a bit of a sigh—and one of those romantic sighs, at that. “Bless his heart, the poor man’s barely recovered from his cold, and yet, there he is, up on a stage, taking on a most daunting part.”

  “If I’m not much mistaken, you mentioned he was taking on the role
of the butler and . . . I wouldn’t think that would be a daunting role to play.”

  Abigail nodded to the stage. “If you’ll direct your attention to what is already unfolding on the stage, you’ll notice that Miss Dunlap, a young lady with a rather bossy attitude, has apparently decided that, even given Archibald’s many years spent on this earth, he’s apparently less than proficient at the whole opening and closing of a door.”

  Looking up, Bram found that his grandmother was speaking nothing less than the truth. Miss Dunlap, a young lady who often declared herself in charge of the theatrical productions, was opening and closing the stage door, gesturing wildly with her hands, while Archibald nodded his head every now and again, and once even reached out and patted Miss Dunlap on the back. Turning back to his grandmother, Bram smiled.

  “Your Mr. Addleshaw seems to be a likeable sort.”

  Abigail’s cheeks took on an interesting hue of pink. “Oh, go on with you now. He’s not my Mr. Addleshaw.”

  “He suits you.”

  Abigail waved his observation aside with a flick of her hand, although when she immediately took to waving that hand in front of her face, Bram thought he might have actually made a valid point.

  “Speaking of suiting one another,” Abigail suddenly said with a far too casual glance his way as she stopped fanning her face. “How are you and Lucetta getting along?”

  “I’m sure you’ll be pleased to discover she and I are well on our way to becoming . . . friends.”

  “Friends?” Abigail demanded in a rather affronted tone of voice.

  “A person can never have enough friends.”

  “That’s not what I want you and Lucetta to be at all.”

  “Clearly, but . . .” Bram stopped speaking when the lights suddenly dimmed and Miss Dunlap marched her way to the center of the stage and held up a hand. As silence descended over the ballroom, she smiled and dipped into a graceful curtsy.

  “We’re almost ready to begin, which is why I’m now going to request that any and all conversations come to an end as we go about the difficult business of choosing just the right person for each and every part.” With that, Miss Dunlap brought a finger to her lips and seemed to look directly in Abigail’s direction.

  “She’s very bossy,” Abigail whispered before she waved at Miss Dunlap, who was now scowling their way.

  Miss Dunlap drew herself up, seemed to shake herself, and then gestured to the parlor scene set up behind her. “To set the stage, our play—An Evening in a Fifth Avenue Parlor—opens up in present day, with a hint of winter in the air.” She turned her head to the right, waved her hand at someone behind the scenes, then snapped her fingers and began to look rather cross. “The rattling of the windows, if you please, to allow everyone to know that bad weather is rolling in.”

  Bram swallowed a laugh when somewhere backstage someone banged together what sounded like two pans.

  “At-home performances were all the rage when I was young,” Abigail whispered in a voice that still carried. “We enjoyed them tremendously, although I suppose that was due to the fact there wasn’t as much available to entertain a person back then.”

  “If everyone would please remember that there is to be no speaking,” Miss Dunlap shouted as she looked Abigail’s way again.

  Abigail snapped her mouth shut, and even though her face was cast in the shadows, Bram was fairly sure she’d taken to looking a little grumpy. Reaching out, he took hold of her hand, giving it a quick kiss but not letting go as the audition began in earnest.

  The next ten minutes were somewhat uncomfortable as Miss Dunlap truly did turn into a very bossy lady. She had an opinion about everything, wasn’t shy about sharing that opinion, and more than one young lady left the stage in high dudgeon, as well as a few of the men. Archibald, much to Bram’s amusement, seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, even with Miss Dunlap barking instructions at him every time someone was supposed to come through the door. A glance at Abigail found her leaning forward ever so slightly whenever Archibald went to open the door, a move Bram found very telling indeed.

  Returning his attention to the stage after he’d watched Abigail lean forward yet again, he found that while he’d been distracted, Lucetta had taken the stage.

  That she was not looking her best, there could be no debate. Her wig was a dull shade of red, and possessed a bit of frizz, the frizz seemingly becoming more pronounced as the evening wore on.

  Fluffing up the frizz with a gloved hand, Lucetta moved to the spot Miss Dunlap was pointing to, lifted her chin, and opened her mouth. “‘I do beg your pardon, Miss Sonnenberg, but I’ve run short on tea. May I borrow some?’”

  A mere second after Lucetta had spoken her lines, Miss Dunlap was standing directly in front of her.

  “Miss Frizzmont,” Miss Dunlap snapped. “Where, pray tell, is your script?”

  Lucetta’s chin lifted a notch. “It’s Miss Fremont, and I left my script on a table somewhere.”

  Miss Dunlap’s chin lifted a notch as well. “This, my dear Miss Fuddlemere, is an audition, and as such, proper actresses keep their scripts about their person at all times.”

  Bram held his breath as Lucetta stepped toward Miss Dunlap, but to his surprise, she simply smiled at the woman. The distance that separated him from the stage made it next to impossible to see her face clearly, but given that Miss Dunlap took a good three steps back from Lucetta, he got the distinct impression Lucetta was putting her toothless disguise to good effect.

  “Forgive me, Miss Doolittle. I certainly didn’t mean to slow the process by not having my script ready. If you could give me my lines, as I’ve heard they do with actresses who’ve forgotten their lines on a New York stage, I’ll try it again.”

  “It’s Miss Dunlap, and—”

  “You said the line just as it’s written in the script, Miss Pl . . . er . . . Fremont,” someone called from somewhere behind Bram, someone who sounded remarkably like Tilda.

  Turning, Bram found most of his staff gathered in the back of the ballroom, nodding in unison, which meant they’d evidently decided to claim Lucetta as one of their own.

  That was not an honor they granted lightly, but before he could contemplate the action further, Abigail sat forward.

  “Is that Ruby?” she asked.

  Sitting forward as well, Bram winced when he realized that his sister had joined everyone on stage, and she now seemed to be in the midst of arguing with Miss Dunlap, gesturing to Lucetta every other second as she argued. Miss Dunlap, apparently taking issue with Ruby’s interference and obvious defense of Lucetta, immediately took to shaking her finger Ruby’s way.

  Before Bram could get to his feet to intervene, he saw Mr. Skukman striding across the stage, his sheer size having the immediate effect of Miss Dunlap’s finger shaking stopping midshake as the entire ballroom fell silent. Coming to a stop directly by Ruby’s side, Mr. Skukman folded his arms over his impressive chest and did what he did best—look intimidating, somehow being able to still accomplish the look while sporting a head filled with curls. Although . . . from what Bram could tell from the distance that separated them, some of the curls were beginning to come undone, giving Mr. Skukman a rather deranged appearance, or one that suggested he’d been caught in a nasty windstorm, which wouldn’t explain his appearance this evening since there was relatively little wind.

  It was soon clear that Miss Dunlap was made of surprisingly stern stuff because she did not back down for long. Stepping closer to Ruby, which Bram thought was a huge mistake on Miss Dunlap’s part, she opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Lucetta stepped forward.

  “May I suggest that we just start again—from the part where I enter the room? I’ll be sure to get my two lines right this time.”

  “You got your lines right the first time, as you very well know,” Ruby said.

  Lucetta tipped her spectacles down. “Do you want to be here all night?” she asked before she nodded to Mr. Skukman, who immediately held out his ar
m. And even though it seemed as if Ruby was less than thrilled to end the argument with Miss Dunlap, she did take the offered arm and allowed Mr. Skukman to escort her from the stage.

  “From the start of that scene?” Lucetta asked, and without waiting for an answer, she breezed her way across the stage and disappeared through the door Archibald had managed to get open for her without any guidance from Miss Dunlap.

  “Is it my imagination, or . . . is Mr. Skukman paying Ruby a bit too much attention?”

  Looking up and to the right, Bram found his mother standing beside him, her eyes narrowed on the stage. Rising to his feet, he offered his mother his chair, and after she’d taken a seat, he knelt down next to her as Miss Dunlap called for the rehearsal to resume.

  “I haven’t heard anything of a specific nature, but I’ve gotten the impression that Mr. Skukman holds Ruby in high esteem, an esteem Ruby seems to return.”

  “I thought Ruby had set her sights on Mr. Grimstone.”

  “Well, yes, I do think she had set her sights on him at one point, but since she’s never met that man before, Mr. Skukman might actually be a better option for her.”

  “And here I was finding myself hoping we’d get to have a writer in the family, even if it was only through marriage,” Iris muttered before she blew out a breath, shook her head, and then turned to Abigail. “Tell me everything you know about Mr. Skukman.”

  Abigail smiled in obvious delight over her daughter seeking her council, and immediately launched into a whispered dissertation regarding what she knew about Mr. Skukman, which, surprisingly enough, turned out to be quite a bit.

  With their heads now bent together, Bram couldn’t help but think that Iris and Abigail looked exactly as they should—mother and daughter engaged in a brisk debate regarding a potential suitor for one of their own.

  Not caring to interrupt the healing that the whispering and the exchanging of opinions was creating, Bram straightened. Sending his mother and grandmother a nod they neglected to notice, Bram walked across the ballroom, nodding to the people sitting about here and there who weren’t trying out for a part but had simply come to watch. Reaching the far end of the room, he moved into the shadows created by the stage. Leaning back against the wall, he smiled as Archibald opened the door again, revealing Lucetta. This time she was clutching a script in her gloved hand, and with a lift of her chin, she walked determinedly across the stage, stopping exactly where she’d stopped before, even as she, interestingly enough, brought the script up to her face, as if she wanted to leave no doubt about the fact that she’d brought the script with her.