A Most Lamentable Comedy Read Free Page B

thought he would have blue eyes. However, I do not wish to appear a mindless ninny who cannot carry on a conversation, and I like to watch his mouth when he speaks.
    ‘Do you know which part is yours in Otterwell’s play, Mr Congrevance?’
    ‘His play?’
    ‘Yes. Has he not invited you to be an actor in his, or rather Shakespeare’s, A Midsummer Night’s Dream ?’
    ‘Ah. He did not mention anything of the sort to me when we met in Italy earlier this year, although one cannot help but notice how much he admires Shakespeare. And you, Lady Elmhurst? What part is yours?’
    ‘I am to play Hermia.’ Hermia, in my opinion, is something of a tediously virtuous ninny, but she fits quite well into the impression I intend to make on Congrevance – that of a respectable and modest widow. How very fortunate that he has been abroad, and how relieved I am to find that my reputation has not crossed the Channel. If he had been in London, it would be an entirely different story. Indeed, it is a miraculous stroke of luck that he is a blank slate upon which I can rewrite myself, provided he does not listen to vulgar gossip from his fellow guests.
    ‘You enjoy the theatre, Lady Elmhurst?’
    ‘Oh, I adore it.’ I clasp my hands to my bosom (he watches) and sigh deeply (he blinks). ‘It is tremendously diverting. It is one of the great pleasures of town.’ I do not mention that cards and flirting and activities well beyond flirting behind closed doors are what I really prefer. ‘And of course I enjoy music; I play a little upon the pianoforte – my friends say I am not totally devoid of taste – and I have a very small skill with watercolours.’
    ‘Otterwell has some very pleasing prospects on his estate. I expect you will wish to sketch them. Perhaps I might be permitted to accompany you, Lady Elmhurst.’
    ‘That would be delightful, Mr Congrevance.’
    The question, of course, is whether I should take him as protector or husband. As enamoured as he seems to be of the countryside, there is a good chance he will want to settle on some tedious estate and commune with his cows. He might expect a wife to slop around there with straw in her hair and breed! But I am sure that if Congrevance wished to amuse himself in town, he could keep me in the manner to which I am accustomed (or, to be honest, unaccustomed of late). Mary, whose knee is now pressed firmly against that of that ruffian of a manservant, can find out the extent of Congrevance’s fortune well enough.
    However, there is no great rush to entrap him. I should wait and see who else Otterwell has invited; for although I cannot deny the attraction I feel to Congrevance, it would not do to sell myself short. How would I feel if, for instance, I missed a duke?
    Mr Nicholas Congrevance

    Now I am not the sort of fellow to ponder much on philosophies or languish around thinking poetic thoughts of love, life and death – in my life, I have had to deal with more practical issues. But I cannot help but reflect that I emerged from that canal a changed man, and a stranger to myself.
    Would the Nicholas Congrevance of only a few weeks ago be content to look at trees and meadows and hardly bother to respond when a pretty and undoubtedly available widow tries to engage him in conversation? Barton, of course, will find out the extent of her wealth from that saucy maid, with whom he is getting on famously. And I – well, glib reports of my doings abroad, adventures and the hint of a love affair gone sour (a broken heart in a man rouses a competitive spirit in a woman, I find) – these should have flowed from me as naturally as water. But my wits are quite softened, and while this is not unpleasing – for Lady Caroline Elmhurst is certainly good to look at (particularly around the bosom), and her husky voice most attractive – I must rally myself for my meeting with Lord and Lady Otterwell.
    The trap turns off the road; a boy runs from the gatehouse to open finely wrought-iron