Lady Rawley led the way to the sideboard. While Cordelia had not any intention of drinking wine this night, she changed her mind. It would be well to have something to settle her.
She felt exceedingly unsettled.
It had seemed as nothing to come to a literary society. All her nerves had been firmly aimed at impressing Lady Rawley and her troupe of actors.
The literary society was only where it would be done. She had not given it any thought at all.
“Aunt,” Cordelia said in a whisper as they moved away from the board, “look at that.”
She directed her aunt’s gaze to a placard set up on an easel. It read:
Tonight’s debate—
Did Theobald base his playDouble Falsehoodon Shakespeare’s lost workCardenio?
“Who is Theobald? What isDouble Falsehood? What isCardenio?” Cordelia said. “The only word I recognize is Shakespeare.”
“Gracious,” Lady Rawley said next to them, “he told me that was the subject of debate, but I thought he was joking.”
Miss Mayton squinted at the placard and shrugged. “Perhaps Mr. Theobald is here and can shed some light on the subject.”
Cordelia did not answer, but she did not think that likely. There would not be much of a debate if Mr. Theobald could simply answer the question.
Though she knew of Shakespeare, as of course everybody did, and though she had perfected Desdemona’s dying scene, she had not come across a play calledCardenio.
In truth, while she had vowed she would study all of Shakespeare’s works from the moment she had become aware of Lady Rawley’s theatrical evenings, she had not got as far with it as she would have liked.
Lady Rawley was in the habit of reimagining the ending of a Shakespeare play, and so Cordelia had been most diligent about studying those endings. It was just the beginnings and middles she had not got to.
She supposed it did not signify, since the debate was to be roundCardenioand she did not even know the ending of that one.
Lady Rawley had led them to one of the groupings of tables and chairs. Cordelia gratefully sat between her aunt and Lady Agatha. She wished to blend in and disappear and felt more safe between the two ladies.
The truth was, she felt entirely out of her depth. All round her, she could hear snippets of conversation. Learned conversation she understood little of.
Who was Fletcher? Why had one gentleman just said, “How do you account for the lack of subplot?” Why had another said, “It’s all in the linguistics!” Or another said, “Come now, the theory regarding Tonson has been thoroughly debunked.”
What were all these people talking about?
Her own education, while being very jolly, had not been particularly rigorous. Her aunt had overseen various tutors, but only kept on the ones she found genial. She had also allowed all the sisters to pursue their own interests. It had resulted in a great deal of time studying the end of Othello, and the poignant death of Desdemona, but perhaps not as much time on other worthy things.
Cordelia felt she was on a slowly sinking ship. In fact, she rather wished the chair she sat on this momentwouldsink through the floor. What was she to do if someone asked for her opinion?
*
Percival glanced roundthe room and noted that his aunt and her “troupe” had all placed themselves together.
That would be for the best. He had no idea what they would debate among themselves, if anything, but he doubted it would be of a sort that the other members would find edifying.
Lady Cordelia, though. How had that lovely lady become embroiled in Lady Rawley’s theatricals?
Of course he knew how—her aunt, Miss Mayton. Everybody knew that lady had enthusiastically stepped into the breach at a few of the theatricals. Now it seemed she’d become a regular part of it and dragged her niece in with her.
Darden really had such a run of remarkably pretty sisters. One was more attractive than the last. This one had the most enchanting hair, and pretty eyes…well, he ought to stop thinking about that. He had a society meeting to run.
Percival dinged his glass. “Gentlemen…and ladies, we will commence the first society meeting of the season. I welcome you all and look forward to hearing your learned and considered views this night. As always, Makepeace will lead us through the question, and then we will debate the various answers.”
Makepeace stepped forward. “In 1727, Mr. Lewis Theobald claimed to be in possession of a lost play by Shakespeare namedCardenio. We know that a play of that name was in fact performed in Shakespeare’s time, by his own company. We also know that the play was itself based on an episode fromDon Quixote. Mr. Theobald wrote a play namedDouble Falsehood, which he claimed wasCardenioedited and made better. However, though he claimed to have original manuscripts ofCardenio, and he claimed he would show them as proof, he never did show them as proof. Lord Harveston?”
