Chapter 6
Themomentthewordsleft her lips, Mary regretted them. She didn’t care if Gregory thought there was something wrong with the play. His opinion didn’t matter one iota. Any opinions he had on the play could go to hell, and she wouldn’t even mind if he was dragged down there with them.
The only aspect of uttering those words that she didn’t regret was that in saying them aloud, she realized now how she would write the ending to the play.
Thankfully, after Mary’s epiphany, Bugsby came in shortly requesting Gregory’s approval on the theater’s repair.
With that perfectly timed exit, Mary sat down and furiously began scribbling out the ending of the play.
How dare Gregory think he was doing them such a favor in running lines of the play to see how the play read aloud and flowed from scene to scene. As if they needed his help. And another thing, how dare he think his opinion mattered at all. While he didn’t say anything, he was obviously thinking untoward thoughts of the play. How long can it possibly take someone to read one page of script? Ostensibly he had heavy opinions on the writing. Alas, she couldn’t care less about his opinions.
Margaret erupted into the room followed by two footmen in livery carrying trays of tea, sandwiches, scones, and other pastries.
“Where shall we put these?” Margaret cleared her throat. “Where has Gregory run off to so quickly?”
Mary barely lifted her head to explain that he had been called away on ducal duty when Margaret directed the trays to be placed on the bureau where Mary was writing lines.
Without missing a beat, she just barely had time to steal her sheets from underneath the lowering trays.
“I know how I’m going to end the play now.”
“Oh?” Margaret raised an eyebrow skyward. “How did that come about?”
Mary couldn’t very well tell her that her epiphany came from an illusionary argument with Gregory, so she evaded the question. “The prince will choose his mistress.”
Margaret’s eyebrow flew heavenward. “Alas, no happy ending for the long-suffering daughter of the bookstore owner?” Mary shook her head while scribbling notes on her lap with no idea how she would be able to read her chicken scratch at a later time. “But she loved the prince for such a long time, and I’m sure he loves her too.”
Mary shook her head as she continued her scribbling. “No. He never has and never will. She’s too plain, too young, too naive. Too… nothing like his mistress, the opera singer who is beautiful, sophisticated, and talented.”
At Margaret’s silence, Mary finally looked up and into her friend’s eyes. She looked… dispirited. Nothing like how Margaret usually looked. Within a minute, her dismay vanished and a spark reappeared in her eyes.
“Ah well, not everyone receives a happy ending I suppose.”
Mary nodded. She should have felt inspiration, even relief, knowing how the play would end. Surprisingly she only felt fury.
Mary spent the rest of the day and far into the night finishing her play. She took dinner in her room while writing lines, crossing them out, and then rewriting them. As more and more candles had to be lit to enable her writing, her lady’s maid, Adeline, finally spoke up. “Lady Edwards, may I suggest you finish this in the morning and I prepare you for bed. Should we light many more candles, the curtains will certainly catch fire.” She couldn’t hide the smirk from her voice.
“I suppose you’re right.” Adeline had been with Mary for many years and from time to time breached propriety, always for what she deemed Mary’s benefit.
After Mary completed her ablutions, she sat in front of the mirror while Adeline counted one hundred strokes through her hair. She couldn’t help but observe how plain she looked with her oversized lips and stubby nose. This was not the face that someone had fallen in love with yet. She sighed. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was her play. Tomorrow it would be finished and she could run through its entirety to catch any flaws.
The one hundred strokes being done, Mary climbed into bed and pulled her covers up to her chin.
Immediately as she turned to her side she felt a familiar tingling between her legs that she had first felt when Gregory nibbled on her bottom lip. She remembered how strong and hard his body felt against her softness. She wanted to relieve the tingling somehow. She wanted to touch herself, but the shame of doing anything even remotely seductive felt wanton. She was a lady, not some strumpet caving in to any carnal desires. She didn’t even have carnal desires.
She remembered when her parents sat her down at ten years old explaining that she would no longer be traveling with them to explore new countries and excavate old and new treasures. Up until then, she had spent all her time with parents and she had loved seeing them immersed in adventures. Although it wasn’t her passion to sit in dusty tents in blazing inferno-like heat, she never complained, for she knew her parents were in love and loved doing this work. It wasn’t even work to them. It was raw desire.
After that conversation, she had spent her first summer with a new governess who was told strictly to ensure Mary became a proper lady, worthy of her title and becoming to any husband. She began learning French, drawing, and how to curtsy properly to all and sundry. The only good that came out of that conversation was that that was the summer she met Margaret, Gregory, and Jonathan.
She could still remember the conversation with her mother.
“Mary, it is time that you focus on becoming a lady. Your husband could be anywhere, and we must be ready for him when he finds you.” Mary had sat still as a tree.
“Your father and I both agree that a governess will take on the responsibility of teaching you all that you need to know.”
Mary had been devastated. “You mean I will stay here while you two continue to travel around the world living out adventures without me?”
“Yes. It is time for you to learn to become a lady. You will eventually start to have… desires. You must learn to control them, deny them, and comport yourself in the most proper fashion.”
