Page 41 of The Gentleman’s Leading Lady

The refurbished pump room reminded her in part of the rooms at Bath, where Cerys had visited on one or two occasions. The old well was safely covered with a set of wooden doors to keep out air and rain, and a matron of some years stood behind the counter, the bodice of her gown swathed in the fichu of a bygone era, and her mob cap fully covering her graying hair.

“There’s five of us, Mistress Forty,” Mame greeted her, “in need of a restorative. And how are the waters today?”

“A bit mucky, after the rains afore night, but let your glass sit a moment and it’ll clear.” Mrs. Forty drew the water from the creaking apparatus and lined the pewter cups along the top of the counter. Dot swiped hers up with confidence. Rhoda, watching Dot, followed more cautiously. Tryphenie sniffed at the contents, then wrinkled her nose.

Mame gestured with her cup. “Mistress Forty, this is Miss Evans, from our group. Miss Dorsey, Miss Ryves,” she pointed to Rhoda, “and Miss Tryphenie Barnes. Girls, this respectable matron is Mistress Hannah Forty. She’s been chief pumper here at the well for nigh two score years, and will no doubt continue pumping until the water runs out.”

“Or I do.” Mrs. Forty snorted, then eyed Cerys. “Where are your people from, gel?”

“Newport, Wales,” Cerys said pleasantly. “But before that, the Netherlands, Barbados, and Africa.”

Mrs. Forty sniffed. “I’ve heard of your group. Meant to come see you before the theater burned down. My gossips tell me the pantomime with the kidnapped Sultan’s daughter was fine.”

“That was our Miss Evans,” Mame said without batting an eye. “Give yourself a treat and come see our Hamlet. We’ll be performing at the Montpelier Spa two afternoons from now. Bespoke performance for Lord and Lady Baeccon, hosted by Mr. Henry Thompson. The Viscount Andover has promised to attend.”

Mrs. Forty nodded. “I’ll bring my gossips. Not much for all the soliloquies, are we, but we do like the bit at the end with the bodies strewn all about the stage.”

“It will be splendid,” Mame promised, leaving their coin on the counter. A small boy in breeches and coat, pretending to livery, took their glasses and put them in a bin for washing. “May the day be warm, may your patrons be thirsty, and may your waters never run dry, Mistress Forty.”

“And a good day to you as well,” Mrs. Forty called before turning to her next group of visitors.

Cool air warred with a hopeful hint of warmth as they proceeded up the wide avenue of elms that constituted the Old Well Walk. “Now there’s a woman of fortitude,” Mame commented. “I’d do myself in if I had to stand in the same place day after day, serving fretful customers. At least with this life, we get to change up our performances, and if a crowd turns sour, we can pick up and leave.”

“Less chance of that if we build a theater of our own and stay here,” Cerys observed. She stopped suddenly and turned to the older woman. “We want a theater, don’t we? A solid place to stay?”

Mame nodded. “And become a group of repute, rather than traveling indigents.”

“I hope so,” Cerys said. “Otherwise I have been dangling after Mr. Manelli for nothing.”

“Not nothing, I’m sure,” Mame said, shooting her an arch, sidewise look.

Cerys could not stop the heat touching her cheeks at the memory of that kiss in the moonlight. The feel of his firm arm beneath hers as they walked along the Montpelier Parade.

The way his eyes had flared when she stepped close to him, testing. She knew how to use a space; it was a skill theater had taught her. She sensed her nearness had an effect on him.

More concerning was the effect his nearness had on her.

“I can’t imagine what you could mean.” Cerys lifted her chin as they continued walking, nodding to passersby on the broad promenade. “I am only trying to secure his cooperation in designing us a new theater.”

Mame made a scoffing sound. “And ’tis necessary you coo and flirt and cozen him to do so?”

“With him? Yes,” Cerys said. “And also, to irritate Lady Baeccon.”

“You’re resolved to put yourself between those two? I wouldn’t.”

“Well, he can’t be working on our designs if he’s trying to battle her off. Or falling into her bed,” Cerys reflected. “Either way, we can’t have her interfering and interrupting his work. So I’ve stepped in.”

“I see. And why it is on your shoulders, and yours alone, to get us a theater, I wonder?” Mame asked.

Cerys faltered, though the Old Well Walk was wide and smooth, no less than twenty feet wide from elm tree to elm tree. “I am only trying to help.”

“Manage, it would seem to me. Though the devil knows Dorsey needs managing.”

“You think I am overstepping my bounds?”

“I think you feel you owe us something, and you don’t, child.”

“You and Dorsey took a great chance on me. You took me in and gave me roles when I had no experience, no professional experience to speak of. You’ve taught me, guided me, protected me, and done a great deal more I’m no doubt unaware of. It would only be fitting for me to help you where I can.”