What to do? On the one hand, she did like the idea of becoming a duchess. But on the other hand, there was no happiness in being a dead duchess.
“How about this,” the duke said, setting her down, “how about I seal up the well?”
“But how can you?” the gentle governess asked. “The magistrate said he was bringing men on the morrow to retrieve the poor duchess.”
“Once they get her out then. Consider it sealed.”
“How long has she been down there, exactly?” Van Doren said to Beatrice in a low voice.
Beatrice patted his hand to quiet him.
“If you will seal up the well,” the gentle governess said, “then I will be convinced.”
The duke and his gentle governess walked happily back to the house.
They could not know, of course, that when the magistrate exhumed the well, all of their plans would be thrown into disarray. If the duchess was not down there, where was she?
Miss Mayton closed her book. “One wonders what chapter four will bring us,” she said.
“Wonders?” the earl said jovially. “I am on tenterhooks over it!”
Van Doren quietly groaned. Beatrice bit her lip.
The next hours were filled with amusements. Cordelia’s Desdemona was a rousing success, and she did not start one fire from knocked-over candles. Tattleton had eyed the sand buckets while she performed, but he never had a need to race to them to put out a smoldering carpet.
Juliet read her newly composedOde to Pups.
New arrived and what a surprise
Hear me, good dogs, and gently rise.
The time for slumber has come to be over
And soon you will be frolicking in clover.
Van Doren had muttered, “Mightwefrolic home now? I will even frolic in clover if you take me out of here.” Beatrice was entirely amused by it.
Viola unveiled her portrait of Bess and her little family.
While it was true that the portrait might need a bit of refining, as just now it was eight small brown ovals and one larger brown oval, for a first effort it was going in a rather inspired direction.
Fortunately, Viola was confident in her abilities and did not so much as flinch when Van Doren said, “Wait. Those are supposed to be dogs?”
Everybody was so lively and entertained. Except Van Doren, of course.
Beatrice finally leaned close to him and whispered, “You are a very good sport, you know.”
“I do know,” he answered. “Perhaps I’ll write an ode about it—Ode to Suffering at my In-Laws’ Hands.”
Beatrice practically fell over with laughter.
While Rosalind could see very well that they were delighted with one another, it was in their very peculiar way. Her own marriage to Conbatten would be nothing like it.
Theirs would be all passionate romance and courageous demonstrations of love.
Rosalind felt she was inching ever closer to her future happiness. She must only secure a pickpocket to rob her.
Chapter Nine
