“Great idea,” Mina said.
“Let’s do it,” Deirdre said.
“I don’t know,” Beatrix said, but she stroked the tulle material of the costume as if she cradled a beloved kitten or puppy in her arms. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”
“Of course we should. It’s perfect,” Mina said.
“You have to go in with us or it won’t work,” Eleanor said. “You are not any man’s doormat. Stand up for what you want.”
Beatrix bit her bottom lip for a moment. “You’re right. I will do it.”
Eleanor grinned her approval. Maybe Beatrix had a backbone after all.
“Now … to work on an interesting costume. I’m not sure where to start. You’re clever with a needle,” Mina said to Eleanor as she sorted through the colorful scarves. “What would you do?”
Eleanor was in her element. She designed each costume to go over the dresses they would wear to dinner, so they could all get dressed backstage. Mina was turned into a gypsy by a wrap-around skirt she could tie around her waist like an apron. To the wide ribbon sash Eleanor tied a multitude of colorful strips of material, ribbons, and silk squares. At assorted spots she sewed on shiny bangles and tiny bells. A large shawl draped over her shoulders and another folded crossways and tied around her hips completed the basic costume.
Mina accented her costume with lots of jewelry, a red domino from the trunk, and another scarf tied around her head turban-style. Eleanor rummaged in the trunk and found a piano shawl with eight-inch black silk fringe that she cut off, twisted together, and tacked under the turban so that it hung over Mina’s shoulder like a long braid.
Mina spun around. Her skirt swirled in a colorful circle and the bells tinkled. “I love my costume,” she said.
“Me next,” Beatrix said.
She already had the basic tunic overdress. To that Eleanor added a chain of coin disks around her hips, a yellow scarf to tie over her hair, and two long hanks of yellow wool yarn that she crisscrossed with ribbons to resemble Rapunzel braids. She placed the veil over the girl’s head Maid Marian-style. Mina provided a gold circlet crown from her stash of jewelry to hold it all in place.
“I feel like a princess,” Beatrix said. “Oh, thank you. Thank you, Eleanor. Mina, Deirdre. I can’t find the words—”
“You’re quite welcome,” Eleanor said.
“From all of us,” Mina added.
“I don’t think you have anything in that trunk for me,” Deirdre remarked.
“You’re right,” Eleanor said and then laughed at Deirdre’s sad face. “For your costume we need outside help.” She summoned the maid and whispered her directions through the door that she opened only a crack. “Once we have the right materials, your costume will be the easiest of all,” she said to Deirdre.
Very quickly, a befuddled Twilla returned and handed extra bedsheets through the door. Eleanor draped one length of white material over each of Deirdre’s shoulders to hide the small cap sleeves of her dress and fastened them in place with large ornate brooches. A chain of golden leaf shapes was put into use as a belt to keep the sheets from flapping wide. Deirdre insisted on a disguise like everyone else, even though she hadn’t traded her part. Eleanor made her a turban of shiny gold fabric, modified slightly to let a long streamer of gold hang over one shoulder. The white domino that had sparked the idea fit the outfit perfectly.
“You look amazing,” Mina said to her sister. “Do you want to switch—”
“No,” Deirdre said. “The narrator is an important role, and I am honored to be selected for such a responsibility.”
For herself, Eleanor basted together another long tunic out of dark purple silk with tiny gold embroidered stars. To that she added a long black cape. She wasn’t sure if witches during the Regency wore pointy hats, but she cut a circle of pasteboard from one of the boxes in the larger trunk and glued black material to it. After notching out a pie-shaped piece, she pasted the long sides together. Two holes over each ear allowed her to attach thin black ribbons to tie it on. For a mask, she cut holes for eyes and a slit for a mouth into a piece of green silk and tied it over her face. She needed something to add for hair.
Deirdre found a fly-whisk in the trunk. Three tassels of gray horsehair were attached to a stick, and she explained it was used to swish through the air and chase the flies away. Eleanor attached the tassels to her hat, one over each ear and one so that it made coarse bangs. She wouldn’t be able to disguise her height, a good three inches taller than the others, but as the witch she would be sitting by the pretend fire for most of the play. The rest of the time she would have to remember to hunch over.
Loathe to take off their costumes, they fiddled with this, that, and the other detail, adding a last bit of jewelry or another ribbon. A knock sounded on the door. Mina was closest and opened it a crack to peek out. Fiona and Hazel pushed their way into the room. They were already dressed for dinner.
“We finally talked Mother into letting us participate in the play,” Hazel blurted out.
“I got so upset I vomited,” Fiona said. “It always works.”
“Except now we can’t find your brother.”
Deirdre shook her head. “I’m sorry—”
“Please don’t say it’s too late,” Hazel begged.
“He’s already handed out the parts,” Mina said.
“And we’ve already had the rehearsal,” Beatrix added.
Fiona and Hazel were close to tears.
“I know what you can do,” Eleanor said. “Deirdre can hardly be a Greek chorus all by herself, right?”
“Well, we can’t all read it in unison,” Deirdre pointed out. “And there isn’t time to write out two more copies.”
“True, but they can stand at your side.”
“And do what?”
Eleanor felt the weight of their collective stares and fumbled for an idea, any idea. “Well, when you get to the end of each section of narrative, you can bow or make a hand signal or something, and they can repeat the last two or three words for dramatic effect. Like a Greek chorus.” Her voice trailed off as she ran out of steam.
“We can do it,” Fiona said. “Can’t we, Hazel? Please let us do it.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Mina said.
With a little more cajoling, Deirdre agreed. Mina explained the secrecy pact, and the girls were sworn to silence. They too insisted on masks to go with their costumes. Eleanor rang for the maid, made her request, and Twilla fetched more sheets. There wasn’t enough gold fabric left to make two more headpieces to match Deirdre’s, so Eleanor cut Lone Ranger-style masks from the remnants. She made smaller white turbans for the Maxwell girls while they practiced their routine with Deirdre.
A knock on the door silenced everyone.
“If that’s someone else wanting a costume, tell them I’m all sewed out,” Eleanor said, flexing her cramped fingers. Everyone had helped with the sewing, but she’d done a lot of work in a short time.
Mina went to the door and opened it a crack. Her aunt’s maid stood in the hall. “Yes?”
“Pardon me, Miss Mina, but Mrs. Aubin said to tell you and Miss Cracklebury that the assembly bell has rung and you have guests waiting in the parlor. Miss Austen and Miss Jane have arrived with Mr. Knight and Mr. Austen. Lord and Lady Maybrumble and their daughters are here. And … I forget the other names.”
“Don’t worry about that. You may tell her we’ll be down straightaway.” She closed the door a little too firmly. “Good heavens! Where has the afternoon gone?”
“Hurry up, everyone. We have to get downstairs,” Deirdre said. She grabbed the bellpull to summon Twilla. “We still have to change into evening dress.”
Eleanor had already removed her costume as soon as she’d heard Jane Austen was in the house. “Take your costumes off carefully,” she cautioned the others. “They’re only basted together. Fiona, if you will empty that smaller trunk, we can put everything in there to have it carried backstage.”