Casey had no mercy. Actors! she thought. Who knew when their emotions were real?
One day, Kit told Casey to rehearse with Tate. It was the scene where Darcy says the ladies want to show off their figures.
“There are only ten yards of fabric in this dress,” Casey said. “I hope it’ll fit around my hips.” Everyone on the stage stopped and stared at her.
Kit ran his hand over his face. “Deliver me from young love.”
“What would you know of it?” Olivia’s voice held an extraordinary amount of anger.
After that, the day went downhill.
Tate and Jack pulled back into shells of coldness, never letting anyone see beneath the surface.
Casey and Gizzy had trouble concealing their anger, and when they spoke their lines, some of the hurt and fury they felt could be heard and seen.
“You’re supposed to be in love with him!” Kit shouted at Gizzy about her scene with Jack/Bingley.
Her reaction was to walk off the stage, and Casey went after her.
Kit threw up his hands in frustration. “Take a break,” he shouted. “Eat some of the hundred and fifty cakes and pies Casey baked.”
The only person smiling was Olivia.
Casey ran back to the guesthouse, which had become her sanctuary, her hiding place. She didn’t venture out except for rehearsals and necessary errands. No more wandering about the grounds, searching for fruit-bearing plants. She was too afraid she’d see Tate. Or Jack. Or the well house.
She made three meals a day for Tate and Jack and delivered them in a cooler. Only once did she see Tate. He was sitting alone at the table in the breakfast room and he looked as unhappy as she felt.
Probably acting, she thought, and turned away before he saw her.
Twice, Devlin had approached her. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but she couldn’t bear the sight of him. She wished she could feel some sympathy for him. After all, he seemed to have been thoroughly used as Tate Landers made his way to the top. Devlin’s career, his marriage, seeing his beloved daughter, all of it had been taken from him in his ex-brother-in-law’s ferociously ambitious pursuit of a career.
But even though it made no sense and wasn’t at all fair, Casey didn’t want to see Devlin, or talk to him, or even be on the same stage as he was. Before he showed up with his friend Rachael, Casey had been sublimely happy. In one seemingly innocent picnic, it had all changed. Laughter with Tate, telling him secrets about her life, kissing, making love. When she’d been with him, she’d felt more alive than she ever had before. But now all of it was gone, never to be found again.
Maybe it wasn’t fair to blame Devlin, but she did. She just wanted to stay far away from Tate and Devlin. The anger, the vindictiveness, between those two men was not something she wanted to be part of.
Devlin seemed to understand, because after the first couple of days he kept his distance. He became quieter, almost as though he regretted that he’d been the cause of so much turmoil. Casey often saw him going over lines with young Lori, leaning over her in a fatherly way. It was as though he’d become a mentor to her.
Casey couldn’t help thinking that young Lori was having a good effect on Devl
in. The girl was a favorite with everyone. She was so quiet, never complaining, always with a book in her hand. In spite of being very pretty, she seemed almost mousy—until she got onstage, that is. Then it was as if a magician waved a wand and Lori went into character. She didn’t just play Lydia but became her.
Lori had lightened everyone’s bad mood when they most needed it.
One day when Dr. Kyle was late, Kit went into the garden to take a phone call. While everyone was standing around grumbling, Lori stepped forward and loudly said, “I’ll play Mr. Bennet.” She looked at Olivia. “Really, my dear,” Lori said in a deepened voice, “can you not see that Mr. Collins is an odious little man? Too unlovely for Jane, too stupid for Elizabeth.”
The lines weren’t in the book or the script, and everyone was bewildered.
Only Olivia understood, and she stepped forward. “Ah, well, then, shall we package Lydia and present her to him? Perhaps roll her in the second-best rug?”
Lori seemed thoughtful as she reached to the fake fireplace and pantomimed removing a pipe. As she lit it and began puffing, she seemed to be thinking hard. “Lydia is too full of life, too exquisitely beautiful, and much too intelligent to be hidden in a rug.”
Since Lori was playing Lydia, the spectators let out a muffled laugh.
“I agree,” Olivia said. “It would be a shame to conceal hair the color of sunlight for even a moment.”
More laughter escaped since Olivia was as blonde as Lori. “Perhaps Kitty?”
Lori puffed on her imaginary pipe. “Kitty is young, silly, and oblivious to the outside world.”