“I think we can all see where Shakespeare went so terribly wrong in this one,” Lady Rawley said.
“I must admit,” Mrs. Robinson said, “it is not a favorite, what with everybody dying or going to prison.”
“Yes, indeed,” Lady Agatha said. “Why should Desdemona die when she’s done nothing at all wrong?”
“My thoughts exactly,” Lady Rawley said approvingly.
Cordelia was entirely stumped. Desdemona does not die? How would she do her death scene, the scene she’d practiced and perfected, if Desdemona does not die?
“This is very exciting,” Miss Mayton said, “I have never thought it possible that Desdemona does not die.”
“I propose that Desdemona has been secretly in love with Cassio,” Lady Rawley said. “So, when Iago plants her handkerchief in Cassio’s room and arranges for Othello to discover it, he has inadvertently pushed those two lovers together. Naturally, Othello will wish to kill Desdemona, but she will be one step ahead. She announces she will drink poison. She seems dead, but it is only a sleeping draught.”
Cordelia’s forehead wrinkled. That sounded very like Juliet’s ruse to escape with Romeo. On the other hand, though Desdemona would not die, it would look like she’s dying. Surely, something could be made of that.
“Then,” Lady Rawley said, “Iago’s wife makes her appearance and reveals it was Iago who planted the handkerchief. Othello raises his sword, as does Iago, and they kill each other.”
“Leaving Desdemona and Cassio free to marry!” Lady Agatha exclaimed.
“Just so,” Lady Rawley said, seeming very pleased. “Lady Agatha, I depend upon you for Othello. Mrs. Robinson, you will play Iago.”
The two ladies looked at one another. “Goodness, we’re to have a sword fight!” Lady Agatha exclaimed.
“Miss Mayton, I know you shall be brilliant at Emilia, Iago’s wife, who reveals the shocking secret.”
“Oh, I do love a shocking secret,” Miss Mayton said.
Cordelia felt her heart pound in her chest. It seemed an unreal dream that she would play the Desdemona who lived. Inspiration was flying at her from all directions.
“Lady Cordelia, you have my full confidence as Cassio. I, of course, will play Desdemona.”
Cassio? She was not to be Desdemona? She was to be Cassio?
Lady Rawley’s butler opened the doors to the drawing room and said, “Lord Harveston, my lady.”
Lord Harveston?
Cordelia’s thoughts could not keep up with the new ideas being presented. She was to be Cassio, not Desdemona, and Lord Harveston had arrived? What was happening?
*
Of all theletters Percival had received from his aunt, none had been so cryptic. His attendance was requested, no, it was insisted upon, at two o’clock. It must be two o’clock as it was of the utmost importance.
She’d not bothered to explain what was of the utmost importance, though he could make a reasonable guess at it.
He’d made Lady Cordelia upset at Almack’s. Plenty of people had seen it and Lady Hightower had already made her opinion decidedly known. He supposed others were commenting on it and, if his aunt had not observed it herself, she’d since been told about it.
She wished to call him on the carpet and demand an explanation for being insufferable.
It was odd, though. Lady Rawley was pushy and intrusive, but he’d never known her to be stern and scolding.
Nevertheless, he would not make things worse by not attending her. He would simply go and explain the situation, including the steps he’d taken to remedy it.
In fact, somewhere in that conversation, he might be able to work in the idea that his salon was really not the right venue for her acting troupe. She was unlikely to take that news as the affront that Lady Cordelia had.
Lady Rawley’s long-suffering butler, Jones, led him into the drawing room.
He stopped short when he noted his aunt’s entire acting troupe gathered round a tea tray.
