Her gaze landed on Mr. Gwilt, standing in the background near the rear door, chewing thoughtfully. His usually pleasant expression creased into a frown.
Becoming aware of her scrutiny, he looked up and said, “I’m afraid I have stumbled upon the piece with the bean. I do apologize, I do. Please appoint another man.”
Emily spoke up. “Not a bit of it, Mr. Gwilt. If you found the bean, then Bean King you are! On Twelfth Night, everything is topsy-turvy. It’s only right that a dear humble soul should be raised to such lofty distinction. So enjoy every moment.” She grinned. “You only have till midnight, after all.”
“If you are sure. And if Miss Sarah and Mrs. Summers do notobject.... Again, I am happy to give over to one of the gentlemen, I am.”
“No need, Mr. Gwilt,” Sarah said. “But if you will help me pass the bonnet and hat?”
“Certainly.”
Colin Hutton rose in playful protest. “Nay, nay! The king must be served, not do the serving. I shall pass the hat to the gents. And Miss Georgiana, perhaps you might pass the bonnet to the ladies?”
She grinned. “With pleasure.”
Colin handed the top hat to each gentleman in turn while Georgiana went around to the ladies with the bonnet. One by one the guests picked a folded slip and read with amusement or mutterings.
When Major Hutton unfolded his, Viola leaned over and read it. “And here you bemoaned having to act. No need, Major Matchless.”
“And what is your role tonight?” he asked.
Viola looked at her slip. “Lady Racket.”
“That’s rather more out of character.”
“I agree. Sounds like fun.” Viola turned to her twin. “What did you get, Em?”
“Mine is Miss Romance.” She read, “Miss Romance to accept for her partner proposes, One who’ll print in his press ev’ry work she composes.”
Viola laughed. “That’s perfect!” She turned to Georgiana and teased, “Are you sure you did not assign these parts?”
“I did not!” Georgie insisted. “It’s the hand of fate at work—that’s all.”
“If you say so.”
When everyone had their assigned parts, Georgie clapped her hands to gain their attention. “Now it’s time to choose your costumes. Ladies first, if you please.”
She rolled Mrs. Denby’s wheeled chair into the library. There, while the other ladies helped themselves to masks and props, Georgie and Effie spread a cape around Mrs. Denby’s shoulders and placed a felt crown on her head.
They had not assigned formal roles to the youngest attendees, but they dressed little Mira as a cupid with wings and a toy bow and arrow. And for Cora, they had fashioned butterfly wings and pinned bobbing antennae to her curls. Both looked charming. Effie, meanwhile, reenacted her role as princess from the play.
Sarah was the last to come in, her expression wavering between incredulity and amusement.
“I drew Miss Busy, although I imagine you planned that.”
“I did not!” Georgie replied. “I would have given you something more out of character.”
Seeing an apron and feather duster on the desktop, Sarah pointed. “I suppose those are mine?”
Georgie glanced to the doorway, then said, “Actually, change of plans. You are no longer Miss Busy, but rather Miss Busy Bride-to-Be.”
Mamma entered with a long white veil and a wreath of fine white and blue silk flowers. These were stunningly beautiful items—not mere props.
She said, “I know there is not time for a new dress, but we thought you might wear this tomorrow. It will look well with the blue gown you wore as Claire’s bridesmaid.”
“It’s lovely,” Sarah breathed. “But how did you ...?”
“We ladies put our heads together for something special for you. I purchased this veil from a local lace maker, and Fran created the wreath.”
