You are still young, Papa.”
“How does it pay?” Sir Aubrey asked.
“That depends on how good it is,” Nigel explained. “I’ll get royalties every time it’s performed, and if Colchester publishes it as a book, there’ll be more money. It could run into thousands,” he said blissfully.
“Of course not every play opens at Drury Lane or Covent Garden,” Breslau threw in. “We might want to run it through the provinces for a few months till it’s polished.”
“What kind of a play did you have in mind?” his father asked. “Your mama won’t want you writing anything risqué, lad.”
“I wouldn’t ask Fleur to perform anything licentious, Papa,” Nigel said, offended.
A scowl alit on Sir Aubrey’s brow. “She’s to act it, is she?”
“Of course.”
“The play hasn’t been cast. The thing isn’t even in the planning stage yet,” Breslau said hastily. “It will give Nigel something to think about over the coming year.”
“Year?” Nigel scoffed. “I’ll have a finished manuscript on your desk within a month. I’m not one of those fellows who sweats and strains over every word. You’ll see, Wes.”
“Don’t rush it. Take your time,” Breslau urged.
During the next half hour, a dozen obscure plots were discussed. Sir Aubrey was nearly as relieved as Breslau to escape tales of sultans and pirates and wild Indians. They joined the ladies for the trip to the Hatfield assembly.
The marquise caused all the stir she was accustomed to when she entered the assembly hall on Breslau’s arm. Word had spread that she would be visiting Belmont, and the town awaited her arrival with bated breath. Like Miss Comstock, they expected a trifle more dash in her outfit, but overall they were thrilled. Several of them had seen her perform in London and came forward to tell her how much they enjoyed her work.
With Lady Raleigh at the helm, there was no question of Nigel being the actress’s first partner. Breslau knew his duty, and he did it. He noticed Fleur’s excitement when General Max entered the hall with his family. His mother and his two sisters and their husbands accompanied him. Max preceded the group with the same stately strut with which he preceded his men into battle. The general had long since abandoned his regimentals, but he still carried himself with a fine military air, and didn’t object to being addressed as General Max.
The general had been an outstanding specimen of manhood in his youth. At fifty, he was still called handsome. His jet-black hair had thinned in front and silvered around the temples. It was true his jaw now more closely resembled jelly than concrete, but his eyes were still steely, and his nose as strong as ever. His shoulders had a harder time remaining erect with the beginning of a paunch to balance, but all in all he remained one of the sights of Hatfield.
All this aging virility had a way of feeling six years old when his mother fixed him with her own icy stare. “Hmph,” she said. “I see Dot Raleigh has brought the actress along. We shan’t recognize her. Dot has promised not to introduce us.”
General Max hadn’t owned up to knowing the marquise. It was his sisters who objected to this rough usage. “Oh, Mama! We can meet her. Everyone is. Look, there’s Lord Breslau standing up with her, and he is top of the trees.”
“Dot invited Breslau to keep the hussy from Aubrey. You ladies must consult with your husbands as to whether they will permit you to know the actress. Max and I shall visit the card room.”
Max installed his mother at the whist table and darted back to the ballroom. It was going to be tricky knowing Fleur when Mama was in the card room, and cutting her when she was present. Mama was good for at least an hour at the card table, and he joined Breslau and Fleur as soon as the music ended.
Breslau breathed a sigh of relief and looked around for Pamela. “Miss Comstock?” he said, and offered her his arm.
She accepted it
“How does it pay?” Sir Aubrey asked.
“That depends on how good it is,” Nigel explained. “I’ll get royalties every time it’s performed, and if Colchester publishes it as a book, there’ll be more money. It could run into thousands,” he said blissfully.
“Of course not every play opens at Drury Lane or Covent Garden,” Breslau threw in. “We might want to run it through the provinces for a few months till it’s polished.”
“What kind of a play did you have in mind?” his father asked. “Your mama won’t want you writing anything risqué, lad.”
“I wouldn’t ask Fleur to perform anything licentious, Papa,” Nigel said, offended.
A scowl alit on Sir Aubrey’s brow. “She’s to act it, is she?”
“Of course.”
“The play hasn’t been cast. The thing isn’t even in the planning stage yet,” Breslau said hastily. “It will give Nigel something to think about over the coming year.”
“Year?” Nigel scoffed. “I’ll have a finished manuscript on your desk within a month. I’m not one of those fellows who sweats and strains over every word. You’ll see, Wes.”
“Don’t rush it. Take your time,” Breslau urged.
During the next half hour, a dozen obscure plots were discussed. Sir Aubrey was nearly as relieved as Breslau to escape tales of sultans and pirates and wild Indians. They joined the ladies for the trip to the Hatfield assembly.
The marquise caused all the stir she was accustomed to when she entered the assembly hall on Breslau’s arm. Word had spread that she would be visiting Belmont, and the town awaited her arrival with bated breath. Like Miss Comstock, they expected a trifle more dash in her outfit, but overall they were thrilled. Several of them had seen her perform in London and came forward to tell her how much they enjoyed her work.
With Lady Raleigh at the helm, there was no question of Nigel being the actress’s first partner. Breslau knew his duty, and he did it. He noticed Fleur’s excitement when General Max entered the hall with his family. His mother and his two sisters and their husbands accompanied him. Max preceded the group with the same stately strut with which he preceded his men into battle. The general had long since abandoned his regimentals, but he still carried himself with a fine military air, and didn’t object to being addressed as General Max.
The general had been an outstanding specimen of manhood in his youth. At fifty, he was still called handsome. His jet-black hair had thinned in front and silvered around the temples. It was true his jaw now more closely resembled jelly than concrete, but his eyes were still steely, and his nose as strong as ever. His shoulders had a harder time remaining erect with the beginning of a paunch to balance, but all in all he remained one of the sights of Hatfield.
All this aging virility had a way of feeling six years old when his mother fixed him with her own icy stare. “Hmph,” she said. “I see Dot Raleigh has brought the actress along. We shan’t recognize her. Dot has promised not to introduce us.”
General Max hadn’t owned up to knowing the marquise. It was his sisters who objected to this rough usage. “Oh, Mama! We can meet her. Everyone is. Look, there’s Lord Breslau standing up with her, and he is top of the trees.”
“Dot invited Breslau to keep the hussy from Aubrey. You ladies must consult with your husbands as to whether they will permit you to know the actress. Max and I shall visit the card room.”
Max installed his mother at the whist table and darted back to the ballroom. It was going to be tricky knowing Fleur when Mama was in the card room, and cutting her when she was present. Mama was good for at least an hour at the card table, and he joined Breslau and Fleur as soon as the music ended.
Breslau breathed a sigh of relief and looked around for Pamela. “Miss Comstock?” he said, and offered her his arm.
She accepted it
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