won’t accept me as an escort even though you will vouch for my character?”
She shook her head. It was ridiculous and narrow-minded that a letter of introduction from a man Lavinia had known more than fifty years ago endorsing a grandson they had never set eyes on could make that grandson acceptable, while Margery, whom Lucy had known as a friend for years, was relegated to the ranks of “suspicious” due to his working-class roots. But there would be no arguing with them.
“The only men with whom I could possibly be acquainted and whom they do not also know could only be a fellow performer. I strongly suspect Bernice would actually prefer to die rather than be escorted anywhere by a male entertainer.”
Margery didn’t argue. He puzzled a moment, his perfectly manicured nails tapping the head of his ebony walking stick. His face cleared. “I know what to do.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Now, you return to your aunties and I shall be with you anon. Say not a word until I join you.”
“But—”
“Never fear, my dear. All is in hand.” And with that, he strode back to where the carriage driver was still unloading his trunks and started gesticulating urgently.
Lucy did as he instructed, retracing her route back along the wharf. She didn’t see that she had anything to lose.
Her great-aunts greeted her with surprised consternation. “You couldn’t have made it to the hotel and back already?”
“Ah . . . no, but everything is taken care of. Don’t worry.”
She sat down between the pair of them, contriving to look confident. They peered at her in concern. Lucy remained mute, crippled by ignorance and worried that whatever she said would somehow prove detrimental to Margery’s plan. But her uncharacteristic silence only made them more fretful.
“Now, Lucy . . .” Lavinia finally began.
“Don’t harass Lucy, Livie,” Bernice hushed her. “If she says everything is taken care of then I am sure that everything is taken care of. She has never failed us yet.”
She looked expectantly at Lucy.
Very
expectantly. “Of course, one might wonder what evolved during Lucy’s brief absence that has allowed her to state so confidently that everything has been attended to. It would be unnatural not to be curious.”
The expectant look became an insistent one. Lucy felt her resolve to remain silent begin to crumble.
“Because whatever she has decided not only affects her but intimately involves us.”
Ah.
Guilt
. Lucy had been wondering when that bit of ammunition would be brought to bear.
“Which I am sure she is well aware of—”
“Luuuucccy!”
Startled by the rich contralto voice trilling Lucy’s name, the three women swiveled on the bench. A female figure swept toward them, awash in a sea of billowing pink feathers, trailing a raft of fuchsia-coloredlace. A huge Merry Widow hat dripping with cabbage roses and lilac sprays perched atop her a blancmange of pale gold curls.
She bore down on them like an ambulatory wedding cake, arriving to grab Lucy by the shoulders, haul her to her feet, clasp her to her bosom, and bus her smartly on the cheek before pushing her back down onto the bench. She beamed at Lavinia and Bernice.
“And are these the darlings whose company I am to be privileged to share on the crossing?” asked Margery, the World’s Premiere Impersonator of Female Characterizations.
Lucy studied “Mrs. Marjorie Martin” with frank admiration. Fully immersed in his female persona, Margery was charm incarnate, cooing about how he’d known “darling Lucy ever since her triumphant debut on the same musical stage as I.” He then revealed his surprise at spying “dear Lucy” whilst disembarking from his carriage and subsequent distress over finding the girl in abject misery over some possession or other left behind at some hotel, unable to reconcile herself to risking her aunts’ discomfort by taking a later ferry crossing, yet equally unhappy at the prospect of having them go
She shook her head. It was ridiculous and narrow-minded that a letter of introduction from a man Lavinia had known more than fifty years ago endorsing a grandson they had never set eyes on could make that grandson acceptable, while Margery, whom Lucy had known as a friend for years, was relegated to the ranks of “suspicious” due to his working-class roots. But there would be no arguing with them.
“The only men with whom I could possibly be acquainted and whom they do not also know could only be a fellow performer. I strongly suspect Bernice would actually prefer to die rather than be escorted anywhere by a male entertainer.”
Margery didn’t argue. He puzzled a moment, his perfectly manicured nails tapping the head of his ebony walking stick. His face cleared. “I know what to do.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Now, you return to your aunties and I shall be with you anon. Say not a word until I join you.”
“But—”
“Never fear, my dear. All is in hand.” And with that, he strode back to where the carriage driver was still unloading his trunks and started gesticulating urgently.
Lucy did as he instructed, retracing her route back along the wharf. She didn’t see that she had anything to lose.
Her great-aunts greeted her with surprised consternation. “You couldn’t have made it to the hotel and back already?”
“Ah . . . no, but everything is taken care of. Don’t worry.”
She sat down between the pair of them, contriving to look confident. They peered at her in concern. Lucy remained mute, crippled by ignorance and worried that whatever she said would somehow prove detrimental to Margery’s plan. But her uncharacteristic silence only made them more fretful.
“Now, Lucy . . .” Lavinia finally began.
“Don’t harass Lucy, Livie,” Bernice hushed her. “If she says everything is taken care of then I am sure that everything is taken care of. She has never failed us yet.”
She looked expectantly at Lucy.
Very
expectantly. “Of course, one might wonder what evolved during Lucy’s brief absence that has allowed her to state so confidently that everything has been attended to. It would be unnatural not to be curious.”
The expectant look became an insistent one. Lucy felt her resolve to remain silent begin to crumble.
“Because whatever she has decided not only affects her but intimately involves us.”
Ah.
Guilt
. Lucy had been wondering when that bit of ammunition would be brought to bear.
“Which I am sure she is well aware of—”
“Luuuucccy!”
Startled by the rich contralto voice trilling Lucy’s name, the three women swiveled on the bench. A female figure swept toward them, awash in a sea of billowing pink feathers, trailing a raft of fuchsia-coloredlace. A huge Merry Widow hat dripping with cabbage roses and lilac sprays perched atop her a blancmange of pale gold curls.
She bore down on them like an ambulatory wedding cake, arriving to grab Lucy by the shoulders, haul her to her feet, clasp her to her bosom, and bus her smartly on the cheek before pushing her back down onto the bench. She beamed at Lavinia and Bernice.
“And are these the darlings whose company I am to be privileged to share on the crossing?” asked Margery, the World’s Premiere Impersonator of Female Characterizations.
Lucy studied “Mrs. Marjorie Martin” with frank admiration. Fully immersed in his female persona, Margery was charm incarnate, cooing about how he’d known “darling Lucy ever since her triumphant debut on the same musical stage as I.” He then revealed his surprise at spying “dear Lucy” whilst disembarking from his carriage and subsequent distress over finding the girl in abject misery over some possession or other left behind at some hotel, unable to reconcile herself to risking her aunts’ discomfort by taking a later ferry crossing, yet equally unhappy at the prospect of having them go
Similar Books
