What Happens At Christmas

What Happens At Christmas by Victoria Alexander Read Free Book Online

Book: What Happens At Christmas by Victoria Alexander Read Free Book Online
Authors: Victoria Alexander
.” His voice rose, and he stared off into the distance. Camille exchanged glances with her sister. “The dream of speaking the words of Shakespeare as they were meant to be spoken or performing the works of Mr. Gilbert and Mr. Sullivan as they intend them to be performed.” He reached his hand out, palm up, as if to catch something just out of reach. “The dream of taking an audience away from their dull existence and bringing them, however briefly, to another place, another time, to a story they will long remember. And that”—he closed his hand and pulled it back to rest over his heart—“is the dream and, yes, the magic of the theater.” He bowed his head.
    Beryl choked back a laugh. Camille wasn’t sure if she wished to laugh or cry.
    â€œQuite,” she said in a weak voice, then cleared her throat. “Well, then, Mr. Fortesque—”
    â€œSimply Fortesque, my lady,” the actor said. “If I am to play the role of your butler, you should address me as such.”
    â€œYes, of course.” Camille nodded. “Thank you, Fortesque.”
    â€œNow, then, if there is nothing else at the moment, I shall make certain your mother, sister and uncle are preparing themselves for their first appearance, as well as oversee the preparation of tea.” He nodded at the sisters and took his leave.
    â€œThat went well.” Camille forced a cheery note to her voice.
    â€œ ‘Well’?” Beryl stared in disbelief. “ ‘Well’?”
    â€œYes,” Camille said firmly. “Well.”
    â€œIt doesn’t concern you that you have a house filled with actors who need to hone their skills because they are lacking in extensive experience?”
    â€œBut what they lack in acting experience, they hopefully make up for in the positions of servants.”
    â€œThank God for that,” Beryl said sharply. “Have you also considered that you have a drunkard playing your uncle—”
    â€œFormer drunkard, if you please.” Camille sniffed. “He has given up overindulgence and we should give him the benefit of the doubt.”
    â€œWhat we should do is inventory the brandy. And probably the silverware as well,” Beryl added darkly. “Add to that, a tart for a sister—”
    â€œWith a natural gift—”
    â€œNo doubt.” Beryl sniffed. “One suspects that gift is not for acting.”
    â€œYou haven’t mentioned Mrs. Montgomery-Wells,” Camille said. “She apparently has a great deal of experience at playing the role of a mother.”
    â€œShe forgets her lines!”
    â€œSo does Mother.” Camille shrugged. “Yet another way in which this role was made for her.”
    â€œGood Lord, Camille—”
    â€œWe just have to get through Christmas, Beryl.” Camille paced the room. “Just Christmas. A traditional, Mr. Dickens’s Christmas, with a proper English family. That’s all. Certainly, I had planned to stay here through Twelfth Night, but I can see now that might be a mistake. Of course one never knows.” She cast her sister an optimistic look. “This might go much better than anticipated.”
    â€œIt would have to.”
    Camille paused in midstep and glared. “Thank you for your support.”
    â€œI’m here, aren’t I?”
    â€œYes, and I am indeed grateful for that. And Lionel is still coming as well?”
    Beryl nodded. “Yes, but probably not until Christmas Eve. He is a very busy man, you know. And he does hate to be away from London for any length of time. But once I explained the circumstances . . .” She chuckled. “He has a better sense of the absurd than I give him credit for. He said he wouldn’t miss it.”
    â€œWonderful. Very well, then.” Camille resumed pacing. “I shall come up with some reason why we must return to London at once. You can help me with that. You can

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