Megan was relieved when Evangeline rose from the sofa, her gown of green-and-blue shot-silk shining in the candlelight. "'Right, my company of actors and actresses, let us proceed to our stage," she said. "I plan a phantasmagoria of awe-inspiring lighting effects that will bring the Adriatic of the seventeenth century to modern Brighton. I intend to give you a demonstration of the opening of Act I, Scene 2-you know, the storm scene."
There was a sudden whiff of orange blossom water, and Megan realized that Rollo had crept up softly beside her, for he spoke to Evangeline. "Lighting effects? 'Angels and ministers of grace defend us!' What sacrilege! Is not ye Bard perfection as he is?"
Evangeline's nostrils flared. "Oh, do be quiet, Rollo!" she said.
Everyone exchanged glances, but no one said anything. Except Oliver, who was mystified by her strange remark. "Er, who is Rollo?" he inquired.
"Who is Rollo? Who is Rollo?" The ghost was dismayed by such ignorance. "What manner of ginger-headed pippin asks this?" he demanded.
Megan lowered her eyes quickly, and bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing. Ginger-headed pippin? Oh, if only Oliver could hear!
Evangeline ignored the specter. "Come, mesdames et messieurs, for if we delay any longer, we will not have time to see anything tonight, and I am so looking forward to showing off my grand Laterna Magica."
"Your what, Aunt E?" inquired Rupert.
"My Laterna Magica, magic lantern, or sorcerer's lamp, call it what you wish. This one is larger than any you may have seen before, and can project the most astonishingly lifelike images."
Greville spoke up quickly. "I will see your wonders in due course, Aunt E, but first I have to write an important letter for tomorrow's mail. I meant to write it earlier, but it slipped my mind. It is little more than a note, and so will not take long."
Evangeline was rather miffed with him. "Oh, very well, but I vow I will be very displeased indeed if you linger."
"You have my word," Greville replied, and as everyone else-including Rollo-followed her from the room, he went to the writing desk and reached for a sheet of his aunt's fine monogrammed paper.
Evangeline hovered by the entrance to the theater as everyone else went in, and when the ghost tried to pass as well, she hissed angrily at him. "Sir, you vex me with your carping!"
"Sweet lady, I do not seek to vex," he protested, his steps halting as he apparently turned to face her.
Megan waited dutifully just inside the theater, placing herself just so to eavesdrop. Evangeline was still irritated with the specter. "I wish I knew what you do seek, sirrah! You hound me everywhere, yet will not say why! How am I supposed to help you end your haunting if I do not know what it is all about?"
"It is for thee to discover my purpose, not for me to tell thee. 'But for now, cudgel thy brains no more about it,' " he replied infuriatingly.
"I'll give you Hamlet! Oh, you are a most tiresome spirit, and no mistake. I am fast becoming a laughingstock because you prick me into responding to your sly remarks!" Evangeline's wrath was palpable.
"I suffer ye earth's very end of ennui, mistress. Pray envisage an eternity of waiting, and thou hast my predicament."
"Waiting for what?"
"For thou to do what must be done."
"Which rather brings us back to where we were before. How can I do what has to be done, if I don't know what it is? And anyway, to return to your carping, why exactly do you find fault with my plans for lighting the play? I am sure Master Shakespeare would be flattered by my wish to do him full justice."
"I think not, mistress, I think not."
"How can you presume to be so sure?" Evangeline demanded smartly.
"Because I am grandnephew to ye sainted Bard, as well as a member of King Charles II’s Company of Comedians, and keeper of this theatrical house. I know my business through and through again, and can vouch that the Poet of Avon would abhor thy fancy lighting effects. His words stand upon their own merit, and were the actors, feeble as they are, to be upon a naked stage, his star would not shine less."
His pompous tone provoked Evangeline still more. "Fie, sir, I believe you have no connection whatsoever with Master Shakespeare, and that your knowledge of acting is confined to being prompter at farthing shows in country barns."
"O, villain, villain! I will have thee know that I was king of Drury Lane. My Mithridates could not be surpassed! Nor my Falstaff!"
"Aye, sir, but in what way could they not be surpassed? In excellence, or mayhap in execrableness?"
"Such heinous lies! Such disrespect! Oh, may thou be forgiven!" cried the spirit, then stomped irately past Megan into the theater, where everyone else had now gathered around the black tent containing the prized lighting equipment.
Evangeline followed him in, on her face an expression of some satisfaction. She had had a little of her own back a little on the vain, sharp-tongued specter, and the feeling was clearly good. But then she remembered something. "Oh, my notes!" She noticed Megan. "Ah, Miss Mortimer, would you be so kind as to bring my notebook? I left it on the writing desk."
"Yes, Lady Evangeline." Megan returned very reluctantly to the drawing room, where Sir Greville the Grim was at the writing desk.
Greville was so intent upon his letter to Bath that he did not hear her enter, nor was he aware as she came up behind him. She saw her name and that of Lady Jane Strickland, then he straightened with a start and hastily drew another sheet of paper over what he had written. "Are you much given to creeping up behind people, Miss Mortimer?" he inquired acidly.
"I-I didn't creep, sir," she replied. "Lady Evangeline sent me back for her notes." She reached quickly past him for the little book, then fled the room with it.
But Oliver was waiting for her in the hall. She hesitated in alarm, then tried to pass him, but he caught her arm. "Stay now, coz, for we have things to clear between us," he breathed, keeping a wary eye on the open door of the drawing room.
To her relief there came the sound of Greville's chair scraping as he got up. Oliver released her, and she hastened into the theater with the notebook.
Chapter 17
Everyone was now assembled for the phantasmagoric illusions. The theater was in shadow, and the only light permitted to escape the tent's thick material was through a small hole, from which a bright beam struck the stage curtain as if wishing to burn a hole in it.
Evangeline was secreted in the tent with so many lighted candles and lamps that her face was quite hot and red as she fussed with painted transparencies and complicated equipment. Suddenly she waved a frantic hand outside. "A glass of water, if you please, Jocelyn! Fosdyke will have left a jug and glass by the stage steps."
The admiral hurried to attend to it. "It must be a positive oven in there, Evangeline. Are you sure you are all right?" he asked in concern as he pressed the glass into her fingers.
"All is well, Jocelyn. Besides, it will not take much longer. Please tell everyone to be seated." The hand withdrew into the tent's fastness, and there came the sound of turning pages as she looked through the notebook Megan had retrieved.
The small party went to sit down, but as Megan tried to place herself well behind the others, Evangeline remonstrated with her from the tent. "Don't seek splendid isolation, my dear. Sit in that empty chair next to Greville."
Megan looked at the tent in puzzlement, wondering how on earth Evangeline could see anything from where she was.