"Essential or not, I will still not be wearing them," Greville replied doggedly.
She shrugged. "Well, no one is forcing you, so if you wish to scuttle back to London, I will quite understand. I am sure that Mr. March will leap at the opportunity to play alongside Chloe, who is to be Olivia. I did write to one of you about Mr. March, did I not?"
Rupert scowled. "I don't want that scoundrel leaping into anything, unless it be a pit of vipers."
"Well, at least we are agreed on something, for he is indeed a scoundrel, but Chloe seems quite taken with him," Evangeline replied. "Still, Greville's craven desertion means a replacement is needed, and I happen to know that Mr. March is very fond of amateur theatricals, so he will have to do."
Greville saw the anguish on Rupert's face, and felt obliged to reverse his decision, even though it meant Malvolio, stockings and all. "I'm not cravenly deserting anyone, Aunt E, I'm staying right here."
"Then, you are going to be Malvolio, and that, sir, is that."
"I know," he answered heavily, and Rupert looked away to hide his unutterable relief. Megan cordially hoped Malvolio would cause Sir Greville Seton endless embarrassment.
Evangeline was triumphant again. "It is settled, then. You are to be Malvolio, Rupert is Duke Orsino, Chloe is to be my Olivia, and Sir Jocelyn will be my Sir Toby Belch. Your cousin Ada is to be Viola, her husband will be Sebastian, and her sister insists upon being the maid, Maria, although with her squeaky little voice I fear it may be a disaster. Your other cousin Archibald, who as you know is very shy and retiring, has very bravely undertaken to be Sir Andrew Aguecheek. He promises faithfully not to hide behind the scenery as he did last year. After that I quite forget who is to be who, but they are all rather minor considerations."
"And who, pray, are you going to play, Aunt E?" Greville asked curiously, noticing the singular omission.
"Feste."
He raised an eyebrow. "Isn't he the clown?"
Evangeline twiddled the locket. "Er, yes, he is."
Greville folded his arms. "And doesn't he wear bells and brightly colored hose?"
"Yes." Evangeline wouldn't look at him.
"And doesn't he sing?”
"Yes."
Rupert groaned. "Oh, no…"
Evangeline was cross. "I may not have a voice like Catalini, but-"
"No, you have a voice like Caterwauli!" Greville interrupted crushingly. She was tone deaf in his opinion, and the prospect of her off-key trilling was almost worse than that of Sybil Garsington.
Evangeline drew herself up indignantly. "I'll have you know that I have been taking lessons, Greville, and I think you will be agreeably surprised by my Feste."
"I await your performance with bated breath."
"So do I, sirrah, for I have some information that will surely pay you back for your sharp tongue. I happened upon Lady Garsington at the circulating library recently, and she informed me that Sigismund and Sybil are returning to Brighton for Christmas. So if you imagine that by scuttling here you have eluded her, I'm afraid you are very much mistaken." For Megan's sake, Evangeline omitted to add that Lady Garsington had also said that her other daughter, Sophia might be coming as well, together with her husband, Ralph Strickland.
Greville closed his eyes for a moment. "Please assure me this is a tease," he begged faintly.
"It is the plain, unadulterated truth. She will soon be upon us, harp and all." Evangeline glanced pointedly at her little jeweled fob watch. "It is almost time for dinner, gentlemen, so I suggest you go to your rooms to change," she declared, thus bringing the conversation to an end.
Chapter 8
When Greville and Rupert had withdrawn, Evangeline turned to Megan. "I am sorry about Greville, my dear, but I am sure he will come around. Now, then, I realize you do not have the sort of wardrobe necessary for taking your place among us, but from tomorrow I trust that particular situation will be rectified."
"Rectified? I-I don't understand." Megan was alarmed. Her small income would not stretch to the purchase of a modish wardrobe!
"I have sent a footman to Mrs. Fiske, the dressmaker and milliner in St. James's Street. She has long had premises in Mayfair but has now opened a repository in Brighton as well, specializing in Parisian dresses, trimmings, pelisses, oh, everything that a lady could require. To my certain knowledge, she almost always has uncollected items of which she is anxious to dispose."
Megan's misgivings increased. Clothes of style and fashion for a companion! It wasn't right, it wasn't right at all…
"I have informed her that I estimate you to be the same height and size as Miss Holcroft," Evangeline continued, "so if she has anything suitable, she will have it waiting."
"Miss Holcroft?"
"Chloe Holcroft. She is the dear, sweet, kind daughter of my good friend, Admiral Sir Jocelyn Holcroft, and if Rupert had any sense at all, he would be betrothed to her by now. Instead she seems set to slip into the unpleasant grasp of Mr. Oliver March."
Megan was transfixed with shock on hearing Mr. March's first name. "Have-have you met Mr. March, Lady Evangeline?"
"Why, yes, not that I took to him at all."
"Does he have chestnut hair and a rather pointed nose?"
"Chestnut? I would not dignify it with such a name, for it is more carrot, but his nose definitely seems well suited to poking in where it has no business to be. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, it's nothing really. I just think I may have met him once." Yes, Megan certainly had met him, for Mr. Oliver March was the cousin who had inherited her family's estates and thrown her penniless into the world!
Evangeline looked curiously at her. "What is it, my dear? You have gone quite pale."
"I-I think I am just tired after the journey."
"I fancy we will both sleep like tops tonight," Evangeline replied, still studying her. "May I ask where did you and Mr. March meet?"
"I really don't recall, for it was a long time ago now." Megan wanted to tell her the truth, but did not feel in a position to do so. After all, Oliver seemed on the point of becoming the son-in-law of one of Evangeline's dearest friends, so even though Evangeline herself clearly disliked him, it wouldn't do at all for her companion to presume to reveal distasteful facts about him.
Evangeline smiled. "Well, I will leave you now, or you will not have time to change before dinner."
"Lady Evangeline, I-I really appreciate your kindness in providing me with new clothes, but…" Megan didn't quite know how to express her worries without giving offense.
Evangeline smiled. "Do not feel awkward, my dear. I wish you to look your best when you are with me, which you cannot do if you are drably clad."
"Then, of course I gratefully accept your generosity, Lady Evangeline, but for meals surely my proper place is with the other servants?"
"I will not hear of it, Miss Mortimer. What use is a companion who isn't with me? I like conversation at the table to be properly balanced, which it will hardly be with only Rupert and Greville. Another lady is required, and that means you, my dear."
"But, Sir Greville-"
"Sir Greville has no say in the matter! He is my guest here, and as such will mind his p's and q's. I am afraid it is time he learned that he cannot allow his personal feelings to intrude upon everyone else. I spoke the truth when I said that he and his mother were better off without his philandering father, so if anything, the companion was to be thanked not vilified."
"I do not think Sir Greville will ever see it that way."
The folded fan touched Megan's cheek kindly. "Don't let him upset you, my dear, for he is just being a stubborn bear. The trouble is that the most vivid memory he retains of that time is of his mother weeping one day when she took him to St. Nicholas's here in Brighton, not long after the scandal had broken. St. Nicholas's was the church where she and Greville's father were married, where she was laid to rest, and where Greville himself was baptized. You will be able to see it from your window in the morning, for it stands on a hill at the western edge of the town."