Exit The Actress_ A Novel Part 18

"Well, it wouldn't do for you to be seen in my rooms, and then then to become the king's mistress. It would look as if I put you up to it." to become the king's mistress. It would look as if I put you up to it."

"You are are putting me up to it," I said, already fed up with intriguing. putting me up to it," I said, already fed up with intriguing.

"Yes, but it can't look look that way. It is all in how a thing looks," Buckingham explained pedantically. "Anyway, that way. It is all in how a thing looks," Buckingham explained pedantically. "Anyway, have have you decided?" you decided?"

"I must know exactly exactly what it is that you intend." I had prepared my speech thoroughly and sounded more confident than I felt. what it is that you intend." I had prepared my speech thoroughly and sounded more confident than I felt.

"What I intend is to have you installed as the king's mistress, supplanting my darling, devious cousin, and if that doesn't take, I'd quite fancy having a go myself," he said easily, dropping into a chair by the fireplace.

I shot him what I hoped was a withering look and ignored his last remark. Sitting in the chair opposite and carefully removing my skin-tight gloves, I asked, "Castlemaine is your cousin cousin. Why would you seek her replacement?"

"Well, having her where she is hasn't done me any good of late. And she is frankly impossible at this point. Her influence over him is monstrous; even the country is noticing now. And she has been disinclined to advance me in any way over the last few years, and in fact has been doing just the opposite-so? She must go, one way or the other. It is time, and I want to keep my hand in. The question is, do you you want to replace her?" want to replace her?"

"Only if he truly wants me," I answered candidly. As much as I truly want him, I thought to myself.

"He wants anyone who is in front of him," Buckingham replied, carelessly kicking off his high-heeled shoes.

No. That is not so. I thought of the black intelligent eyes and the careful mask of informality. This king knows exactly exactly what he wants. what he wants.

Later-Drury Lane It is decided-although it all feels much like a chess game we have all endeavoured to play and not like a real decision at all. I am the p.a.w.n Buckingham has decided to move across the board in order to trap the unprotected king. But what a chance, what a king. I have no hope of winning, but I am helpless against such an opportunity-not to capture a king, but to spend time near the man. man.

I will travel to Hampton Court on Friday. I wish Peg was going to be there, but she has been dividing her time between Rupert's London town-house in Spring Gardens and Windsor Castle, where Rupert has been made governor and constable. They are currently renovating both establishments, and it is all Peg talks about.

I cannot shake the unreality from my mind. I feel fogged up with fairy-tales of love and dancing and castles, and a tall, lithe man who walks too quickly for me to ever keep up.

Later-midnight Just as I was settling down to bed, a man in Buckingham's livery rapped on the door. He handed me a note and a heavy bag of coins. George has given me a budget for new gowns and a list of what I will need for a summer at court! I am to buy what I like and just return the receipts to him. Anything beyond the budget allowed I am to put on his account. I keep re-reading his note. We are really going through with this? Teddy, Rose, Rochester, and I will shop tomorrow!

Wednesday-Will's Coffee-house Five hats, eight pairs of gloves (three white, one green, two brown, two black), deep green velvet and ruby velvet (for coats), black moire moire (for evening, Teddy insisted), creamy lutestring, minty-green brushed satin, soft white linen, rosy-pink taffeta (I worry, with my hair, but Rochester insisted), reams of pale Venice lace, silk hose, four pairs of high-heeled shoes (two buckled and two laced), and a new Chinese fan (I insisted). (for evening, Teddy insisted), creamy lutestring, minty-green brushed satin, soft white linen, rosy-pink taffeta (I worry, with my hair, but Rochester insisted), reams of pale Venice lace, silk hose, four pairs of high-heeled shoes (two buckled and two laced), and a new Chinese fan (I insisted).

"This will do for a start," Buckingham and Rochester agreed. A start start? I am going to wind up as a greedy spendthrift if I start thinking like them.

"What's so wrong with that?" Teddy asked nonchalantly. "If anyone could make greed tres charmant, tres charmant, it would be you, my dear." it would be you, my dear."

Rose has taken everything to Madame Leonine-so expensive, I dread to think. She promised that everything could be delivered to Hampton Court next week.

"Until then, stay out of sight," advised Teddy.

"Stay home," says Rose. This new world frightens her, I know. I sympathise-it frightens me, too.

June 18, 1668-Drury Lane I will not be alone. Johnny Rochester is coming with me! Relief.

Wednesday-Theatre Royal Evening Love flopped. The audience, the critics, the actors all hated it. Secretly, I am glad: a flop will end the run, and I am anxious to be off. Dryden is not crushed as he himself proclaimed it a second-rate effort-beating them to it, I thought. flopped. The audience, the critics, the actors all hated it. Secretly, I am glad: a flop will end the run, and I am anxious to be off. Dryden is not crushed as he himself proclaimed it a second-rate effort-beating them to it, I thought.

"That will mean Hart will be going soon, too," Teddy warned this evening.

"Going?" I repeated. "To the palace?"

"Wherever Castlemaine goes..." he said in his sing-song voice.

June 23-Coach and Horses, near Hampton Court This palace looks lovely from this cosy half-timbered inn where I am lodged but have yet to leave. The red-brick palace is enormous, laid on a grand and elegant scale-a palace fit for a king and stolen by one, apparently: the great Cardinal Wolsey's masterpiece, filched by King Henry VIII. I think of the ghosts that roam here-Henry, his ill-fated queens, and the more recently departed King Charles I. How strange to live in a house with a history of such unhappiness. Does the king think of it, I wonder?

I receive daily instruction in court etiquette from Buckingham and Rochester, who both have good rooms in the palace. We practice the latest dancing-the French gigues gigues and and courantes courantes are all the rage-and then walking and talking and sitting and eating. This morning we spent a whole hour on entrances and curtseys. Buckingham does a lovely curtsey. They encourage me not to lose my Oxfords.h.i.+re lilt, country accents being so fas.h.i.+onable now, but I am not sure I could if I tried, so are all the rage-and then walking and talking and sitting and eating. This morning we spent a whole hour on entrances and curtseys. Buckingham does a lovely curtsey. They encourage me not to lose my Oxfords.h.i.+re lilt, country accents being so fas.h.i.+onable now, but I am not sure I could if I tried, so heigh-ho heigh-ho. We have also been practicing the newest card games (ombre, hazard, and whist) and have been gambling huge sums of imaginary money. I am nervous about what lies beyond these doors.

June 25-Coach and Horses Teddy brought my new clothes himself! I am so happy to see him. Tom has spared him through the summer. Now we are a foursome-laughing and dancing and dicing and gambling. Tomorrow is my debut! "Courage, cherie, "Courage, cherie, you will be you will be fantastique!" fantastique!" Teddy cheers in a phoney French accent and an unconvincing leer. His enthusiasm heartens me, although I cannot believe I am doing this. Teddy cheers in a phoney French accent and an unconvincing leer. His enthusiasm heartens me, although I cannot believe I am doing this.

June 26-Coach and Horses Bit of a failed debut, as I did not even see the king; although my entrance was lovely, Rochester insisted. Buckingham says I need to practice sitting still. I have a tendency to fidget when I'm nervous, and I will be far more nervous when the king actually shows up. Tonight His Majesty had a private dinner with Castlemaine and did not return. For all I hear of her fading light, they do spend an awful lot of time together.

Still, I was introduced to a number of genial people. I particularly liked Lady Jemimah Sandwich and her husband-she sings wonderfully, and he plays a ferocious game of ba.s.set. I also liked a very young gentleman introduced to me as Jemmy-only later did I find out that this is James, Duke of Monmouth, the king's eldest b.a.s.t.a.r.d son. I should have guessed: he looks like a softer-featured version of the king. Despite his youth, he is a determined and experienced flirt. Buckingham interceded, steering me away and onto safe ground. Despite my many faux pas faux pas-using the wrong fork for the roast dishes and forgetting to throw my napkins behind my chair: I kept mine for the whole of the dinner, awful-I enjoyed myself tremendously.

Sedley joined the court tonight, arriving just after the grand and terrifying supper, making for a merry time. Jemmy Monmouth and I both beat him in ombre, and then he sang his newest songs, some surprisingly poignant. Afterwards, Rochester, drunk but elegant as usual, encouraged me to do impressions-dicey stuff in this company, but (after several gla.s.ses of wine and lots of encouragement) I did a few, keeping only to well-known theatre folk-safer that way. Couldn't resist a waddling imitation of Moll Davis. The Howard boys had collaborated to write a terrible little rhyme, and I performed it while mimicking her lumpy little dance. They roared with laughter. So cruel of me.

June 27-Hampton Court Buckhurst has joined us. I am actually quite pleased to see him. He is attentive -but not in his obsessive way-and sweet, and I have the feeling that like all the Merry Gang he is keeping an eye on me. Nearly all the Wits are here now. Georgie Etheredge, the playwright, and John Sheffield, the young and th.o.r.n.y Earl of Mulgrave, arrive tomorrow to make our merry party merrier still. Still no sign of the king.

Note-I learned tonight that Hart is here. I caught sight of Hugh outside the inn tonight. How long has Hart been here? And does he know that I am here?

June 30, 1668-Hampton Court Terrible news from London: Will Davenant, manager of the Duke's House, died today. The king wore black ribbons in his hair in memoriam, so Buckingham tells me. Rochester-a great friend of Will's-has been drunk all day. It has already been announced that Tom Betterton and Henry Harris are to co-manage in his stead. "Filthy dogs," Rochester snorted, despising their haste. Relief: Hart has apparently returned to London.

July 18, 1668-Newmarket, the White Hart Coaching Inn (hot!) Spent the morning happily browsing the brisk tidy market and came home with armfuls of fresh flowers, a volume of poetry, and new bread. Buckingham was waiting in my rooms when I returned-not downstairs but in in my rooms. my rooms. Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho, there seems to be no formality in my life. Buckingham paced up and down the noisy floorboards while I put away my purchases. He clearly had something to say and wanted my full attention. Perversely, I took my time and would not give it-very childish of me. there seems to be no formality in my life. Buckingham paced up and down the noisy floorboards while I put away my purchases. He clearly had something to say and wanted my full attention. Perversely, I took my time and would not give it-very childish of me.

"Ellen, sit!" he finally exploded, commanding me like one of his spaniels. I sat, daintily spreading out my skirts on the rough chair. I knew what was upsetting him-my disheartening lack of progress with the king. I was finding the whole endeavour awkward and trying. All I could do was be myself-a better-mannered, better-dressed, better-educated version of myself, but at the root the same-but this king looks at the roots. Not that the king has looked at me at all all.

I took a deep breath. "You want me to be bolder? Wittier? Prettier? s.e.xier?"

"I would settle for visible. He doesn't even know you are here!" he railed. "Do something something!"

Accustomed to the excited, impa.s.sioned critique of the rehearsal room, I was unfazed by Buckingham's words. He is right. I am treating this as a game of make believe that need never come true. In my deepest heart I think the entire enterprise is absurd and could could never come true. Last year I was an orange girl ... how could I ever hope to interest the king? But my friends seem to believe it is possible. Do I do this for them? No. I do this for myself. It is a daydream that will not fade. My fascination with this man has a thrumming pulse of its own, and in truth, I cannot pa.s.s up this chance, however slim, however unlikely-my gla.s.s-slipper heart will not allow it. And so, I am resolved. I will make him notice me. For better or worse I will play one hand. never come true. Last year I was an orange girl ... how could I ever hope to interest the king? But my friends seem to believe it is possible. Do I do this for them? No. I do this for myself. It is a daydream that will not fade. My fascination with this man has a thrumming pulse of its own, and in truth, I cannot pa.s.s up this chance, however slim, however unlikely-my gla.s.s-slipper heart will not allow it. And so, I am resolved. I will make him notice me. For better or worse I will play one hand.

When I Meet the Good Queen Catherine

LONDON GAZETTE.

Sunday, July 26, 1668 Most Deservedly Called London's Best and Brilliant Broadsheet The Social Notebook Volume 317 Ambrose Pink's social observations du jour Darlings!

The country has become a savage place, my petals. Eat or be eaten is the rule of the forest! The ladies of the court stalk their prey with shrewd skill and painted prowess. They attack in the ballrooms, at the archery b.u.t.ts, on the bowling greens, and in the gilded salons of louche power. Their weapons are devastatingly pretty silks and satins, corsets and curls, fans and frills, patches and pearls. Beware! These creatures play to win! Their talons are sharp, and their hearts are ruthless. And the prey? He deftly eludes their well-laid traps, enjoying their efforts but denying them the prize. He is, indeed, the King of the Forest!

a bientot, Ever your eyes and ears, Ambrose Pink, Esq.

August 5-The Unicorn Inn, Tunbridge Wells The man is surrounded! Besieged! If it isn't Castlemaine, it is Moll, the most irritatingly vapid girl I have ever heard, who seems to want to do nothing but take the waters (good for fertility) and play silly flirtatious lawn games such as hot c.o.c.kle, and then make play houses out of cards! She sets my teeth on edge with her lack of substance. "Soap bubbles," I told Teddy tonight as I un-pinned my hair. "She reminds me, exactly, of a big s.h.i.+ny empty soap bubble."

"Yes, but bubbles are so fragile and elusive," he said, pulling the brush through my hair in long, soothing strokes. "That is their magic. When you try to grab one, they vanish. Smart trick," he said ruefully.

"Moll is a bit heftier than a bubble," I said cruelly.

If it isn't Moll, it would be one of a dozen other ladies here for exactly the same purpose. I understand the inclination-he is like a heat, a strength, a safety we all want to be near. He is dazzling.

Later (back to change again) The boys all have strong opinions about my clothes and toilette, and my rooms have become an entirely inefficient democracy. They cannot agree on anything, from shoes to hats, and so I spend a great deal of time wandering about in my lovely new underclothes whilst they bicker; as I am accustomed to the crowded tiring rooms, this lack of privacy does not faze me. Buckingham always goes for whichever gown is the most decollete decollete (obviously), and Buckhurst will reliably choose the most expensive. Teddy and Rochester (bless them) are interested in whichever makes me (obviously), and Buckhurst will reliably choose the most expensive. Teddy and Rochester (bless them) are interested in whichever makes me feel feel most comfortable. To create the effect of most comfortable. To create the effect of ease, ease, and grace, Rochester explains dramatically. It is sweet to see these brilliant boys, all famous for their scathing wit, playing amongst the silks and lace. It makes them seem so young and free. This morning (after lengthy debate) I wore my new white muslin gown (Rochester's choice) with the cream and grace, Rochester explains dramatically. It is sweet to see these brilliant boys, all famous for their scathing wit, playing amongst the silks and lace. It makes them seem so young and free. This morning (after lengthy debate) I wore my new white muslin gown (Rochester's choice) with the cream pointe, pointe, blue sash, and my delicate little silver mules-lovely! (Teddy's choice). But nothing! No response. The king does not seem to notice me at all. Grumble. blue sash, and my delicate little silver mules-lovely! (Teddy's choice). But nothing! No response. The king does not seem to notice me at all. Grumble.

Note-They all all favour hair favour hair a la negligence a la negligence-heavens, it is difficult to make hair look artfully undone. What What a lot of work. a lot of work.

Later, ten p.m.

This evening after a glorious supper served out of doors under the yew trees-roasted meats, stewed meats, fresh vegetables from the garden (unfas.h.i.+onable, but the queen favours them, as do I), fresh bread, country cheese, artful little cakes glazed in frosted marzipan, and then coffee at long last (goodness, these people do eat)-I noticed the little queen had taken herself off to the gardens alone. She is often alone, a reserved dove amidst the bright noisy larks of the court, all of them angling for her husband's affections. I felt ashamed. I, too, was trying to bed this good, pious woman's husband. And she knew it. Overcome by remorse, I followed her outside the bright circle of torches into the silent, box-hedged garden. I hesitated. How does one approach the queen? She is rigorous about conduct. I lurked by a stone cupid under a flowering peach tree.

"Do you wish to speak to me?" she asked with surprising frankness. Her voice was low and rich and her accent gently rolling.

I dropped like a stone into my best curtsey and stayed bowed low. "Yes, madam." What now? "I often see you alone and ... and..." I stopped.

"And?" she kindly encouraged, raising me up. We were of a similar height, both tiny in this world of giants.

"And I would be your friend, if I could. If you wished it." I heard the absurdity of my request. I am Ellen Gwyn, of Coal Yard Alley, an actress and orange girl currently trying to seduce her husband. She was the Portuguese Infanta and is now the Queen of England-a princess twice over. Why would she choose me me as a companion? By all the rules of royal etiquette, she should not even speak to me. as a companion? By all the rules of royal etiquette, she should not even speak to me. Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho, in it now. I am becoming accustomed to looking the fool in these circles. And besides, the truth is I in it now. I am becoming accustomed to looking the fool in these circles. And besides, the truth is I do do want to be her friend. I respect this courageous little woman who remains in a foreign, unfriendly, scrutinising court because she pa.s.sionately loves her husband. want to be her friend. I respect this courageous little woman who remains in a foreign, unfriendly, scrutinising court because she pa.s.sionately loves her husband.

"Ah, but wouldn't you rather be my husband's friend?" she asked quietly.

I snapped out of my reverie, sheepish and apologetic. She lifted my chin and looked me in the eyes. She has an unexpected directness, a kind of gravity about her. I found her disarming. I could not lie to her.

"Yes," I confessed. "That is just what I was brought here to do." I had no excuse. What excuse could there be?

"By Buckingham?" I nodded. She sighed, unsurprised. After six years in England she was accustomed to such bedroom intrigue-and always in her husband's bedroom. "Lady Castlemaine is no longer helpful to him, I gather, and so he is in the market for a more malleable royal mistress?" Her clear a.s.sessment of the situation startled me.

"Do you not mind?" I asked boldly, too boldly. She was every inch a queen and would not allow such intimacies.

Skirting the question, she responded lightly, "And how are you finding the lion's den?"

"More like hyenas," I replied sharply, thinking of la belle Stuart la belle Stuart's grating giggle.

She laughed a ripe, throaty laugh, understanding my reference. "Mrs. Gwyn, is it?"

"Ellen," I offered instinctively-why do I do that? "Just Ellen." "Just Ellen."

"Ellen," she mused. "Good night, Mrs. Ellen."

The conversation was over. "G.o.d give you good night, madam," I wished her with feeling. She turned to go indoors. I swept her a low curtsey. At the blossoming hedgerow she turned back and said quietly, "I accept. We shall be friends. G.o.d keep you, Mrs. Ellen." I did not look up but remained there until she was out of sight. I like this woman.

August 6-Back to the Coach and Horses The talk ripples across the court: the king left last night for a quick trip to London-to survey the new building works-and coincidentally Moll Davis left for London soon after.

Later, at the gaming tables "To visit her mother, mother," the Venetian amba.s.sador said with a wink.

"Suffolk Street is the second second new town house he has purchased for that woman," Lady Fitzharding whispered, considering her hand. "The first was not to her liking; she preferred a more new town house he has purchased for that woman," Lady Fitzharding whispered, considering her hand. "The first was not to her liking; she preferred a more fas.h.i.+onable fas.h.i.+onable street. Of course she wants street. Of course she wants more more. She is after all she can get."

"I heard she has ordered crimson silk wall coverings and is planning an entirely crimson crimson drawing room," Colonel Wyndham said in a conspiratorial whisper. I saw the eyebrows of his wife, Lady Christabelle, arch in surprise. drawing room," Colonel Wyndham said in a conspiratorial whisper. I saw the eyebrows of his wife, Lady Christabelle, arch in surprise.

"Vulgar," she quipped.

"Common," sniffed the wife of the Venetian amba.s.sador, laying down her cards.

"Worse than common, an actress actress. What did you expect?" Lady Fitzhar-ding sighed. "Actors have a certain charm, I've found, but actresses..." She shuddered.

"They are so so right," I said loudly to Buckingham, well within their hearing. "Actresses can be so greedy, but n.o.ble ladies like your cousin Barbara Castlemaine are right," I said loudly to Buckingham, well within their hearing. "Actresses can be so greedy, but n.o.ble ladies like your cousin Barbara Castlemaine are always always graciously contented with their lot." graciously contented with their lot."

Later, in the gardens "The rebuilding of his capital city has become my husband's pa.s.sion," the queen said affectionately, ostensibly oblivious to his other all-too-notable pa.s.sion. Her ladies twittered in agreement.

August 7-Tunbridge Wells I spent a pleasant afternoon with the queen and her companions on the archery course. She is quite accomplished; I was surprised by her athleticism, although I do not know why I should be. Her humour is understated and quite dry. She has been an avid student of this court and understands its intricacies well. I watch her watch her own ladies-in-waiting. She is bright and gay, and leads them in the merriment, but is ever on her guard. With good reason. This flirtatious flock would rejoice in her removal. I would not. She is a good, kind queen, a better woman than I by far. What am I doing here? What am I doing here?

Later, three p.m.-The Unicorn Inn, Tunbridge Wells Just back to change my gown. Changing my ensemble must take up half my day. It doesn't do to wear the same gown for morning and and afternoon lawn games. And evening gowns are a different beast entirely. I complain, but truly it feels so good to be clean and freshly changed so often-and into such beautiful clothes! The tavern-keeper's wife has left the wooden bathtub in my rooms all week, as I have use of it so often. afternoon lawn games. And evening gowns are a different beast entirely. I complain, but truly it feels so good to be clean and freshly changed so often-and into such beautiful clothes! The tavern-keeper's wife has left the wooden bathtub in my rooms all week, as I have use of it so often.

"I must say," said Buckingham, entering unannounced and dropping lazily onto the tufted window-seat, "befriending the wife is not a strategy I have seen before."

"Not everything is strategy, George," I snapped, looking for my gloves. It was the cream pair with the enamel b.u.t.tons that I was particularly fond of. I had chosen to wear my new green gown with the custard-cream under-skirt, and they matched perfectly. "I have befriended her because I like her."

"Like her." Buckingham snorted. "What is there to like? She looks like a bat, dresses like a dormouse, and behaves like a frightened cat-three animals I do not find compelling." Lifting up a pile of scripts, he found my gloves beneath. Handing them to me, he said sharply, "Do not get close to her, Ellen. Your tender little heart will go out to her, and her." Buckingham snorted. "What is there to like? She looks like a bat, dresses like a dormouse, and behaves like a frightened cat-three animals I do not find compelling." Lifting up a pile of scripts, he found my gloves beneath. Handing them to me, he said sharply, "Do not get close to her, Ellen. Your tender little heart will go out to her, and then then how will you bed her husband?" how will you bed her husband?"

I pulled on the gloves and shot him what I hoped was a condescending look. "I must get back. She is expecting me for cribbage."

Buckingham laughed. "Christ on the cross! Cribbage and the queen-you do surprise, Ellen."

"Always," I shot back mischievously. I closed the door behind me and left him laughing inside.

August 8-Tunbridge Wells (warm) We were all lying under the trees in the privy garden, the Wits and I looking over Etheredge's revisions of his She Would If She Could She Would If She Could (not bad, but still too long) when the talk fell to me. (not bad, but still too long) when the talk fell to me.

"The secret is out, Nell," Etheredge said, popping grapes into his mouth like an ancient Roman. "Everyone knows why you are here." Discretion has never been Etheredge's strong suit. "Now the question is, when when will you make your move?" will you make your move?"

"I think she has made it," said Buckingham dryly. "She has come here and won over the queen-brilliant."

"It is is brilliant," Sedley chipped in, reaching across Etheredge for the bowl of grapes. "Everyone has taken note of Nell's subtlety and kindness, and she makes all the other sirens look like greedy harpies in comparison-particularly dumpy, demanding Moll. brilliant," Sedley chipped in, reaching across Etheredge for the bowl of grapes. "Everyone has taken note of Nell's subtlety and kindness, and she makes all the other sirens look like greedy harpies in comparison-particularly dumpy, demanding Moll. Brava, Brava, Nelly!" Nelly!"

"Subtlety!" Buckhurst snorted. "Since when has this court placed any value on subtlety?"

"Well, the king certainly won't notice," said young Mulgrave, his mouth full of grapes (he has the unfortunate habit of speaking whilst chewing). "He likes his women bold and brazen."

"What makes you think he hasn't noticed already?" said Rochester quietly. He was sitting apart under a pink and green apple tree, his eyes closed to the bright afternoon sun. "It is you you who have no eye for subtlety. This king misses very little." who have no eye for subtlety. This king misses very little."

"Just like you," I said affectionately, leaning down to kiss his nose.

Later, ten p.m.

He has has noticed me. noticed me.

Tonight after wild dancing in Buckingham's rooms-I wore my striped ruby-red waistcoat and matching velvet knee breeches and danced on the priceless furniture-Rochester escorted me back to my lodging. We were both a bit tipsy, and he insisted. I was surprised-such chivalry is unlike him, as he does not generally like to be put out. We were making our unsteady way through the New Gallery when he stopped and sat on a bench under one of the archways.

"Why've we stopped?" I whispered loudly, too loudly.

"Just hush and wait," Rochester whispered back, blowing out his candle.

"Oh, Johnny," I said, dismayed to be sitting in the dark. "I wish you hadn't done that. What are we waiting for?"