Authors: Beth Trissel
“
Yes
?” Will
said
.
“CC
C––C
an I be in your
ppp
––
play?”
Will’s
conscience chided him, but
he
pictured his grandmother’s
reac
tion if he enlisted this
backward juvenile
who
lacked an elementary grasp of hygiene and
couldn’t
utter a
single clear sentence.
“It’s not
my play
.
It’s Mrs.
Wentworth
’s, and all the main parts are cast
.”
A glare crossed Paul’s
yel
lowish-brown stare
.
“BB
B––B
ut that Lyle’s
a
no
ggg
––
good
bbb
––
bastard
.”
“I couldn’t agree more
.
Still, Mrs.
Wentworth
app
roves
of
Mr.
McChesney
’s
acting
.”
S
piting fury
,
Paul insisted,
“SS
S––S
he
ddd
––
don’t know
nothing
. SS
S––S
he’s
old
!”
“Hush
.
She can’t help her age
.
Show some respect.
”
Paul beckone
d Will closer
with a dirty finger
as if to
whisper in his ear
. He bent near
er
t
he frowning youth who stood more
than
a
head shorter.
“
WWW––W
atch out.
Lyle www
––
will steal
ppp
––
pretty Julia.”
The warning
pierced Will
and he jerked
back.
“Don’t wo
rry.
I’m watching.”
“MM
M––M
e too.”
Such venom made Will
a
little
unea
sy
.
Paul sometimes fired off in un
predictable directions
like a science
experiment gone wrong.
“Don’
t attack
Mr.
McChesney or
do
anything
foolish.
He’s a big man and could pummel
the life out of yo
u
.
”
A conniving twist curled Paul’s thin lips.
“NN
N––N
o. NN
N––N
ot that.
I’m
nnn
––
not a stupid
bbb
––
boy.”
“Of c
ourse not.
You’re eighteen now,
”
Will
agreed
, as he strove
for some
means to distract Paul
from whatever ill-advised scheme his peculiar mind was hatching.
“Nineteen
.”
“
Tha
t
o
ld
?
Tell you what, we’re
hurting for
an able
carpenter to help
Dave
with
the props.
We have
some left f
rom past productions
but need several
new
pieces
.
E
xtras
ar
e
also
needed for
the
crowd
scenes
.
How does that sound?”
The fire
in Paul’s glare cooled
to a subdued glow
.
“
OK
,
”
he mumbled.
“Finish
up
this
portion of
the
hedge, then
go to the
blacksmith’s
shop
,
the
building with the
forge and tools,”
Will
reminded him.
“
Dave’s
at work on the set
now
.
G
et him
to help you wash
up
and change into clean
cloth
e
s
before
you go
to the hall
this evening
.
You want to be
tidy
for Mrs.
Wentworth
.
W
e’ll see about a minor role
.
”
Paul
nodded and resum
ed that empty
stare
.
Poor fellow.
He really was
terribly
slow.
Will
pa
tted his
slack shoulders and
continued
p
ast
him
down the walk
toward the gar
den.
Through the trees, he spotted
Lyle and the other brick mason, Ron Brown,
hovering
over the ground at the end of
a
leng
th of wall.
They’
d reached an
impasse and couldn’t figure out where the
sinewy structure
had
wound
in
the past
.
The whole project was growing tedious, to say the le
ast.
It had brought Lyle to Will
, for one thing
.
Will’s
navy
dress slacks,
blue Oxford
shirt
, and striped tie
wasn’t
at all
the
right
outfit to
go
crawl
ing
a
round
the ground in to search
for indentions
from
old
bricks
and whatever fragments might be left
behind
.
But h
e’
d just
given a
talk on
the history of Foxleigh
to a
n eager
crowd with a
number of women
si
ghing at h
im,
hungering for more
tidbits
about
Cole
.
He felt
mentally undressed,
nibbled on
, and
virtually
licked
by the
ogling visitor
s
.
Still,
Grandmother Nora insisted on these appearances
from time to time
, l
ike royalty greeting the masses
,
and he had another
talk
to look forward to
early
this
afternoon.
He’d be fortunate to get any lunch
at all
.
Never mind lunch.
A ribbon of desire ran through him
as he
spied
Julia
conducting a
n herbal tour for an
enthu
siastic assembly
.
He stopped in his tracks, t
he sight of her
momentarily
banishing
all other thoughts
or wants
.
She
or Charlotte
must have revisit
ed the costumes in the attic judging by the long white dress draping her
graceful
figure.
She
could
safely bend
in the
high-
waisted
, early nineteenth century
styled gown.
The capped sleev
es left her slender arms free.
She’d tied a
wide
satin sash
tied beneath
her
curved bust
and wore
her
hair
up
in a tumble of curls
.
The peach ribbon
tying
her auburn lengths
matc
hed the sash
under her breasts
and she’d
tucked creamy roses into both
.
What
glorious,
i
nnocent seduction.
Will
wanted n
othing more than to catch her
fresh loveliness
to him
and carry her o
ff to his
chambe
r––any chamber––
and make passio
nate love to her for hours,
day
s, interrupted only
to
lie in
each other’s
arms
and sleep.
And eat.
But duty beckoned, damn it
all
.
H
amlet had it easy, the whiner.
Surely, Will was the most tortured of men.
Seething with need, he maintained his careful composure and
waved
at Julia.
W
omen of various
ages and
descriptions
, from
matrons in
ankle length skirts to
teenagers
in
short minis, mistook his gesture and eagerly waved back.
“Mister Wentworth!”
He’d
nearly
started a stampede in his direction
.
But he
lingered
, yearning for
Julia
as she
lifted a
silent
hand
in return
.
T
he animation in her expression
that
accompanied her fervor for heirloom plants
faded,
and poignant pain took its place
.
He’
d
hurt her last evening
,
again,
though his
intentions had been good.
Honorable, even.
S
he
seemed disturbingly more like Ophelia than ever
.
What was it with
this
play, with Cole,
and
with Julia?
Strange happenings were at work.
And
why had he used the term ‘chamber,’ instead of bedroom, in his thoughts?
“‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are
dreamt
of in your philosophy
,’” Will said under his breath, quoting the melancholy Dane
.
A
t a loss to do more for Julia
now, Will forced himself to walk on to the brick
layers.
He feigned
a casual facade
.
“Any signs of the
wall
yet
?”
Lyle scrunched
up
his tanned face
, his lower lip still swollen a
nd jaw bruised from their short-lived fight
. He had the nerve shoot Will
a sardonic look
.
“Oh,
yeah.
It’s all laid out.
We’re
just down here scouting
for bugs
.
I’m starting a
n ant
farm.
How about you, Ron?
”