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“Oh yes, we heard at least four versions of that story which reached us even at Cadwallader. In my favorite version, Sir Ambrose offers his every family treasure from his coffers in exchange for your return. ‘For no jewel’, quoth he, ‘could compare to the one I have lost, which was peerless.’

Fen’s mouth dropped open. “But that’s not what happened at all!” she protested, shocked.

“Oh, but it’s such a good story, don’t you agree?” asked Linnet enthusiastically.

Fen stared. “I never even heard it before!” And it gave her a nasty reminder of that wretched play of Mr Entner’s.

“Of course, Oswald is something of a villain in that re-telling,” admitted Linnet. “But sometimes the villains are so much more intriguing than a dull, worthy hero. Don’t you agree?”

Fen had no idea how to respond to this. Luckily Archie chose this moment to hold out both chubby, buttery fists towards her.

“Oh, look at that,” crowed Linnet. “He wants to come to his Aunt Fenella!”

“Does he really?” asked Fenella. With nervous hands she heaved the boy onto her own lap. He tipped back his head to solemnly look at her. “You’re a fine big boy,” she told him.

Archie let out an ear-splitting screech.

“What is it?” Fen gasped.

“Oh naught,” his mother replied airily. “He’s just testing out his lungs.” She looked at her son with maternal pride. “Isn’t that right, my dearest?”

Archie dropped a piece of mangled bread on Fen’s skirts and then looked up at her to see how she accepted this beneficence.

“Thank you?” Fen ventured.

He beamed.

“You’re very good with children,” said Linnet generously.

“I haven’t really had much experience,” admitted Fen.

“You can’t tell in the least,” Linnet assured her.

**

As she undressed, Fen thought furiously about ‘The Tragical History of a Lady Most Foully Betrayed’. She would have to send word to Hester tomorrow and see how she was faring with her read-through. Something would have to be done about it. After her conversation with Linnet, she had some vague idea that a re-write could solve all her problems. As it stood, the play was terribly gloomy. The betrayed lady was a virtuous martyr, upon whom misfortune after misfortune was heaped, until she died of a broken heart. Her faithless husband abandoned her in the first act. She was forced into a loveless re-marriage in the second act and in the third she expired. But perhaps, thought Fen, if the play was re-written, then she would not be viewed afterward by everyone as some kind of forlorn victim? Or perhaps, if the second husband could be turned into a villain instead of an uncaring, ambitious sort, then surely people would know that it was not Oswald?

“Fenella?”

Fen looked up startled, to see Oswald looking at her in the mirrored glass. Had he asked her something? “Your pardon,” she said hurriedly. “I did not catch what you said.”

He frowned and lowered his wash cloth. “I said, I hope the arrival of more Vawdreys does not discomfort you.”

“Of course not,” she said, laying her dress over the back of the chair. “Linnet and the children are very pleasant company.”

“Then why do you look so worried?” he asked bluntly. “Is it my brother, Mason? His bark is worse than his bite, I assure you.”

“It’s not that at all,” Fen assured him. “I was only thinking through some…hypothetical matter.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is Eden Montmayne dragging you to philosophical debates now?” He went back to washing his neck. “My advice,” he said. “Is not to accompany her, if you don’t care for it. You can say no.”

Fen bit her lip, and laid her stockings over the arm of the chair. “Would you rather be viewed in history as a villain, or a victim of circumstances?” she asked. Then added rashly: “I think I’d rather be a villain.” Maybe that was it, thought Fen, dropping her garters. The foully betrayed woman could be depicted instead as a scheming villainess! Then everyone would know it wasn’t her! She stooped for her bright green garters and clutched them to her chest. It was sheer inspiration! She would ask Mr Entner to re-write the roles on the morrow!

Oswald straightened up and gave her a quizzical look. “You, a villain?” he repeated, unlacing his tunic.

“Yes,” agreed Fen enthusiastically.

Oswald cocked his head to one side as if considering it. “And what villainy would you be guilty of?” he asked.