Mistletoe Mischief

Chapter 4

“Rupert, you must tell Chloe how you feel before it's too late,' Greville urged.

'If there's to be a St. Valentine's Day betrothal, it's already too late,' Rupert murmured resignedly.

'Don't be so damned defeatist. It's a rumor, that's all. She isn't wearing his ring yet.'

Rupert swallowed. 'Call me defeatist if you wish, but after the way I've behaved, I don't think I'll ever have the nerve to approach her again.'

'Is she worth fighting for or not?' Greville inquired.

'Of course!'

'Then, you'll have to find the nerve, won't you?'

'I suppose so. Why did it have to be March? First he cheats me at cards, now he steals the woman I love!'

'Forget the damned card game, for it's in the past. Chloe is all that matters.'

Rupert gave him an incredulous look. 'Stop dwelling on the past? By all the saints, that's rich coming from you!'

Now it was Greville's turn to stiffen. 'That has nothing to do with it.'

'So it's one rule for you, another for me? I think not, coz. The balance is even: I choose to dwell upon March's sleight of hand, you choose to dwell upon your father's marital misdeeds.'

Greville looked away, a hint of bitterness shadowing his handsome face. Yes, he did dwell upon the past. He had never forgiven his late father for going off with his mother's companion, and as a consequence he loathed companions as a breed. Only a certain type of woman sought such positions, a scheming, ambitious, conscienceless type of woman who would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. They were all the same; nothing would ever change his mind on thatl

Rupert wished he hadn't tilted the conversation in this particular direction, and changed the subject. 'I believe we are very much in Aunt E's bad books for letting her down this Christmas. It's strange that everyone has cried off, for the house is usually full to overflowing.'

'Perhaps they all dread the theatricals as much as I do,' Greville muttered.

'You're the only one-with a gripe.'

'With good reason,' Greville replied.

Rupert gave a shy grin. 'But I thought you made an excellent Bottom last year. It was a shame your ass's head got stuck.'

'I'm sure you would have found it equally as amusing if the elite of Brighton, including the Prince of Wales and Mrs. Fitzherbert, convulsed at your expense. Damn and blast Bottom! The miserable experience of playing him was the last straw for me. I'm determined to stay away from Brighton until at least the end of January.' Memories of Aunt E's production of A Midsummer Night's Dream would surely torment Greville for the rest of his life.

'January? You can't do that!' Rupert gasped. 'You promised her you'd go down with me on New Year's Eve! She's even sent us our roles for Twelfth Night!'

'Yes, and you are to be the hero of the piece, handsome Duke Orsino, while I am marked to be Malvolio, the pompous steward who makes a fool of himself in cross-gartered yellow stockings! Oh, I can just imagine the relish with which our dear aunt penned my name in for him!”

'You're jealous because you wish to be Duke Orsino!' Rupert declared.

'Rupert, I neither wish to be nor intend to be anything at all.'

'For pity's sake, it's only a bit of fun.'

'Really? Well, I don't recall you feeling quite like that last year. You didn't relish being togged out in Oberon's pink doublet and bright green hose, because you said you looked like a monstrous tulip.'

'All right, all right, I admit it, but that's the only thing I disliked. I enjoy Aunt E's plays.'

Greville held his gaze. 'If that is so, and if you have also decided to ride to Chloe's rescue on your white charger, why don't you toddle down to Brighton for Christmas after all? There's nothing to stop you, is there?'

'Only the small matter of Aunt E not being there either. Radcliffe House is closed until New Year's Eve.'

Greville was startled. 'That's the first I've heard of it!'

'I can't help it if I'm a good correspondent, whereas you delay your letter-writing as long as you can.'

'If she's not in Brighton, where is she?'

'Bath,' Rupert replied. 'When everyone let her down, she accepted an invitation from Lady Jane Strickland. She's there now, and won't return to Brighton until New Year's Eve.'

Greville raised an eyebrow. 'Strickland, did you say?'

Rupert nodded. 'Yes. Ralph Strickland's mother, actually, but I gather that she is quite tolerable. At least, she was. Aunt E hadn't heard from her in an age.'

'I ran into dear Ralph and his Medusa of a wife at the Theatre Royal last night. They have just returned from Bath, but they didn't mention seeing Aunt E. Mind you, I had the impression that Strickland had some embarrassing trouble there with his mother's companion, who had to be dismissed as a consequence. Sophia was still incandescent about it.'

'Doesn't it occur to you that Strickland was more probably the culprit than the companion?'

'You know my opinion of companions.'

'I know your prejudice, if that's what you mean,' Rupert replied in a tart tone that was not all that unlike his aunt's.

Greville coolly returned to a previous topic. 'Radcliffe House is empty, you say?'

'Yes. Well, except for Master Rollo Witherspoon, I suppose, unless he's gone to Bath as well.' Rupert smiled. 'Aunt E is delightful company and I adore her, but I also think she is slightly dotty, increasingly so over the past six months. Rollo Witherspoon is in her imagination, nothing more and nothing less.'

Greville pursed his lips. 'Except we know he existed because we looked him up in the old records at the Theatre Royal. He was the grandnephew of the Bard of Avon, and a member of King Charles IPs Company of Actors.'

'Agreed, but have you ever actually seen proof that his spirit is now dwelling at Radcliffe House?' Rupert demanded.

'No,' Greville conceded. 'I just think that Aunt E has become so obsessed with all things theatrical that she has conjured him out of the ether. It's damned embarrassing at times, especially when she seems to answer him.'

Rupert gave a sheepish grin. 'I know. Actually, when I went down to breakfast at Radcliffe House one morning this summer, I could have sworn I saw a rose drop on the carpet. It must have been a trick of the light, because the rose was probably lying there all along. Anyway, I picked it up and began to put it back in the vase on the table, but Aunt E asked me to give it to her, because Rollo wished her to have it. I obliged, of course. If it pleases her to believe in a ghost, then it does no harm to humor her.'

'That's a matter of opinion,' Greville said. 'There are times when I feel we should tackle her about it, because she'll do it in the wrong place one day, and find herself in the nearest Bedlam! Anyway, why would a Restoration actor haunt a mid-eighteenth century house on the Steine in Brighton? If he belongs anywhere, it's at the Theatre Royal, where he was once such a leading player. Oh, it's too ridiculous to talk about.' Greville adjusted his top hat a little crossly. 'Anyway, to go back to the business of Radcliffe House not being in use until New Year's Eve. What say you we both hie ourselves down there without further ado? It can't be that closed up if everyone is descending upon it until after Christmas, so we can insert ourselves quite nicely. That way I can escape Sybil Garsington's amorous intentions, and you can see what's what between Chloe and March.'

Rupert's face brightened. 'I like the sound of it, coz.'

'But be warned that I intend to be sharply away from there before Aunt E et al arrive. Nothing, but nothing will induce me to run the risk of Malvolio.'

Rupert glanced at his fob watch. 'If we make all our travel arrangements tonight, we can leave first thing in the morning. It's only fifty miles or so, and I doubt if the storm the day before yesterday will have damaged the best