Falling in love.
My fingers rub over the printed cotton of my white-country dress. Evening my breaths, I let a giggle pass my lips. It’s the actor filler I’ve gone with when I have no clue what to do or say. Yesterday, it was an effective fallback—so I’m hoping today it’ll do similarly.
“Yes, very silly.” Sophie-as-Lousia Hurst nods. The ribbon tied atop her high-brimmed bonnet blows in the wind. The breeze is welcome after another warm day. Ishouldshed my pelisse, but I’m worried it’s obscuring some severe sweat stains, so I’ll have to suffer for a few more hours.
Sophie, unlike Sabrina, is just about the most likable human you will ever meet, so her words lack the venom that Sabrina supplied.
My lips twist into a small smile. True, I was rustier than I imagined yesterday with my improv, but today, slipping into the dress and putting on Lydia’s persona like a mask feels far more natural. “You may think what you’d like, but I’d prefer to be silly while soaking in the joys of life than constantly turning my nose up at people. Your time at the ball looked miserable while I danced with officers!” I say, skipping around the two and letting the handful of ribbons in my clutches dance in the breeze.
A few fairgoers stop and snap photos of our interaction. The crowd is a welcome sight since Sabrina and Sophie are scheduled to give a tour of the house soon.
Sabrina rolls her eyes and links her arms with Sophie. “Sister, I think it’s time to retire inside the house. The company out here feels far too close to producing a piglet and making us chase it.”
Women clad in t-shirts that say things like “Half agony, half hope” and “What would Jane do?” laugh at Sabrina’s snark. She pivots on her heel with her nose turned up. “If anyone of status would like a tour of our fabulous home, we’ll be inside where our perfect complexions can remain undamaged by the sun.” Her eyes fall on me once more. “I fear it’s too late to hide for some people, though.”
Scrunching my nose, I stick my tongue out to emphasize my maturity. I like my freckles.
After encouraging the crowd to join the tour, I bounce down the hill to the tent. Sabrina and Sophie have everything at the mansion under control, and Lizzie is visiting Charlotte at Rosings on the stage, so now is an excellent time for me to take a break.
And some ibuprofen.
Unlacing my bonnet, I sigh, entering the tent. Blake-as-Mrs. Bennet is lounging on the couch, their hair wrapped in a white linen mobcap. I’m surprised to see them here since most of the day they run around the fairgrounds attacking random attendees with news about Jane’s impending advantageous marriage to Mr. Bingley, saying things like “Five thousand pounds a year! Can you believe it? Oh, they will make a most handsome couple. And rich, to be sure!”
They grin. “There’s my favorite daughter.”
“Oh, hi, Mama,” I reply, opening the cooler full of water. The ice has melted, and I wipe off the condensation.
“Is it almost time to be ruined?”
“I fear it so.” Heat pricks my cheeks, recalling Jack’s body pressed against mine in the barn yesterday during our game of hide-and-seek. His eyes were dark and dangerous, tracing the edge of my lips. He just had to dip his head and— “Have you seen the first aid kit?” I clear my throat.
“It’s over by the muffins. Gio escaped the petting zoo, and our poor Mr. Wickham scraped his knee in a mad dash to get away. It was quite the sight watching a large man in military regalia scramble. Apparently, he’s not a goat person.”
“He’s not a Gio person, that’s for sure. Was it anything serious?” I shake my head, trying to bite down the smile threatening to erupt on my face at the image Blake painted. I feel terrible that Jack got injured, but as long as it wasn’t anything serious—I mean, how many grown men have laid Jack out as part of his job, but it’s the goat that gets him?
“Nothing more than a minor scrape. I think most of the damage was mental. If you’re looking for the kit—how are you feeling?”
“I’m fine, just sore. All that walking,” I say, locating the white plastic caddy with all the medical supplies players should require. I’m unsure if the pain in my abdomen radiating down my leg is really just because I’m sore, especially because other characters have to walk up and down the hill way more than me, and they seem fine. Still, I’m lacking any further explanation for the cramps plaguing me.
Emptying two white pills into my hand, I tip my head back and swallow them. Blake motions for me and points to the ground, and I nod, unbuttoning my pelisse and finally shedding the unnecessary layer.
Sitting in front of them, Blake’s thumbs dig into my shoulders, and I sigh as tension floats away.
“How’s the Jack Parker situation?” Blake asks. My posture straightens, and they laugh. “That good, huh?”
“I may have caught some unfortunate intense feelings.” I swallow. I haven’t admitted that fact to anyone, but there’s no use trying to hide it from Blake. We’ve known each other too long and shared too many intimate moments in the theater to sneak anything past one another. “But it doesn’t matter. He’s only here for a few more weeks and doesn’t date during the season. Plus, he’s that—” I gesture vaguely toward the tent’s entrance. “And I’m not compliment-seeking here, but I’m very aware that I’m not in the same league as him, and that’s okay. I’m not supposed to be.”
“Oh, come on, you could give Veronica Burke a run for her money.”
Now that’s a good joke. I throw my head back and let out a hearty laugh. “I don’t need any false affirmations, Blake. I’m at peace with being the country-bumpkin best friend to the superstar athlete. It’s where I belong.”
“You’re not giving yourself enough credit.” Blake shakes their head, digging their thumbs under my shoulder blades. “Veronica has a team of people making sure she always looks flawless. You do that naturally.”
“Oh yeah, sure.” I snort.
“Plus, you’re smart, kind, and real. Can Veronica say that?”
“She does a lot of charity work.”
