‘And to have been the mistress of the Emperor Titus,’ said Bernice, daringly. ‘She must have been a remarkable woman.’
The men laughed but Ursula had to hide a blush.
‘Bernice is almost as remarkable as her namesake,’ observed Firethorn with a flattering smile. ‘Do you not agree, Edmund?’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Hoode, staring in wonder at her. ‘I do.’
‘Do you intend to marry a king or an emperor, Bernice?’
She gave a brittle laugh. ‘I’d never get to meet either, alas.’
‘You are meeting both at this very moment,’ Elias told her, pointing a finger at Firethorn. ‘In his time, Lawrence has played a host of kings and a dozen different emperors.’
‘I have ruled the world in its entirety,’ said Firethorn.
The next course arrived to interrupt the conversation but it soon resumed. Firethorn and Elias were pleased with the way that things were going. Bernice Opie was angelic yet with a knowing quality that made her even more tempting. Unaware of the fact that she had been brought there to ensnare Edmund Hoode, she enjoyed being the centre of attention and luxuriated in it. Ursula, on the other hand, became more withdrawn but she listened carefully to all that was said. Hoode was as polite as usual, showing an interest in both guests and asking about the concerts organised by their father. Ursula, it transpired, was a talented musician, able to play any keyboard instrument. Bernice was a singer.
Firethorn and Elias were on their best behaviour. Seasoned in the ways of the world, they had both supped with beautiful young ladies in a private room before, always with one object in mind. They were not in pursuit of another conquest this time so they acted with uncharacteristic restraint, treating their guests with avuncular propriety. Both of them tried hard to bring Hoode to the fore so that Bernice could appreciate his talent and versatility.
‘Edmund is a complete man of the theatre,’ said Firethorn with an arm around his shoulder. ‘Poet, playwright, actor, philosopher and artist. Did you know that Edmund designs the scenery for his plays?’
‘No,’ answered Bernice. ‘How clever of you!’
‘When I write,’ explained Hoode, ‘I see clear pictures in my mind.’
‘And you act a role as well?’
‘If you saw The Faithful Shepherd, then you saw me onstage.’
‘I believe that we may have seen you in The Loyal Subject as well,’ said Ursula, making a rare contribution. ‘It was a wonderful play.’
‘Also from Edmund’s magical pen,’ said Firethorn.
‘We must get father to bring us to another play here, Ursula,’ said her sister, excitedly. ‘Now that we’ve met Master Firethorn and Master Hoode, I cannot wait to see them on the stage again.’ She turned to Elias. ‘What could we see at the Queen’s Head tomorrow?’
‘The Malevolent Comedy.’
‘What an intriguing title! One of your plays, Master Hoode?’
‘Not this time, alas,’ said Hoode.
‘We’ll see it nevertheless if we can persuade our father. Oh, it’s been such a lovely evening, hasn’t it, Ursula?’ Her sister gave an obedient nod. ‘We can’t thank you enough for inviting us.’
‘It’s we who are overwhelmed with gratitude,’ said Firethorn.
When the meal was over, a coach came to pick the guests up and the three men waved them off in the street. Hoode was transported. He gazed after the vehicle until it disappeared around a corner, his face aglow, his eyes luminous, his mouth agape. Firethorn nudged Elias and they shared a secret smile.
‘Did you enjoy your meal, Edmund?’ asked Firethorn.
‘It was like supping with a goddess,’ said Hoode.
‘Bernice Opie is truly celestial, is she not?’
‘You feasted your eyes on her all evening,’ noted Elias.
‘And she obviously adored you.’
‘I sing at their house on Sunday. I’ll take you with me, Edmund.’
‘Will you?’ said Hoode, eagerly. ‘I’d love to meet her again.’
‘What man would not?’ asked Firethorn with a sly grin. ‘I think that Bernice Opie is one of the most gorgeous creatures in London.’
‘That may be so, Lawrence, but she was immature and shallow.’
‘I thought you liked her.’
‘I did,’ confirmed Hoode, ‘but it was her sister who really caught my eye. Bernice cannot begin to compare with Ursula. She’s my choice.’
Lawrence Firethorn and Owen Elias goggled in astonishment.
The decision to stage The Malevolent Comedy on the following day was by no means universally popular. Among the actors, only Firethorn and Barnaby Gill were enthusiastically in support of the idea. Most of the others were still haunted by the tragedy that had occurred at the earlier performance, fearing that something equally disastrous might happen. Edmund Hoode had opposed the notion on the grounds that it was too soon after the death of Hal Bridger but his protests were waved aside. To a company so anxious to increase its takings, a revival of the play was essential. Word-of-mouth would guarantee a full audience and the chance to sell so much refreshment to them might even serve to appease the nagging landlord. Horrified that a murder had taken place in his yard, Marwood was too shrewd a businessman to let emotion get the better of commercial gain.
Nicholas Bracewell was opposed in principle to the revival but the decision did not lie with him. Had it done so, he would have opted for A Way to Content All Women on that warm Saturday afternoon. Since the company were forbidden to play on the Sabbath, it would have meant that Saul Hibbert’s play waited until Monday before being staged again, giving Westfield’s Men a longer interval to absorb the blow it had inflicted on them at its first outing. Since the die was cast, Nicholas did all he could to make the revival a success, making sure that someone was in the tiring-house at all times so that no stranger could enter it unseen.
The morning rehearsal was slow and uninspired, allowing Hibbert to voice his displeasure in the ripest of language. Seated alone in the middle of the lower gallery, he looked like an eastern potentate who had just discovered an outbreak of lethargy in his harem, and who felt deprived of full satisfaction. Only Firethorn and Gill escaped his biting criticism. Hoode was censured and Francis Quilter sharply reprimanded. The playwright reserved his most stinging rebukes for the book holder, however, blaming Nicholas for mistakes that were not his responsibility and trying to shame him in front of his friends. Nicholas was unperturbed. He trusted the judgement of his fellows. The actors knew that he had done his job with customary efficiency.
‘Ignore him, Nick,’ counselled Hoode when the rehearsal was over. ‘He was picking on you needlessly.’
‘I’d rather he berate me than the actors. If he wants to bring the best out of his cast, he should treat them with more respect. They’re not dray horses, to be forced into a trot with the lash of a whip.’
‘Lawrence can be too fond of the whip at times.’
‘That’s different,’ said Nicholas, tolerantly. ‘He’s one of us. We’re used to the feel of his lash.’ He looked into Hoode’s cheerful face. ‘I hear that you supped with him last night.’
‘With him and with two charming young ladies, sisters whom Owen knows. He’s sung at their father’s house.’
‘Then they must be the daughters of Linus Opie, a man who loves his music, by all accounts. Owen has mentioned him before. Dick Honeydew has taken part in their concerts as well.’
‘When I attend the next one, the only person I’ll hear is Ursula.’
‘Ursula?’
‘The elder of the sisters. She plays upon the virginals.’
Nicholas was amused. ‘From the sound of your voice, a virgin has played upon you. Who else was at this supper?’