Page 12 of Thrown

“We’re one of the few forges in the county,” Mr. Hawthorne went on. “In addition to teaching classes, Nate here is a master blacksmith who creates custom fixtures and ironwork. He’s got three talented apprentices working under him as well. And he’s the father of my late daughter, Raina’s adorable children.”

Nate stepped back from his work long enough to nod to them before thrusting whatever he’d been hammering into a barrel of water. The sizzle and steam were satisfying enough that Toby understood why someone would go into such a physical and demanding art.

“These other workshops are mostly used on Renaissance weekends,” Mr. Hawthorne went on, taking them farther down the path, past outbuildings that were boarded up, but had clearly been made to look older than they were.

“What are the Renaissance weekends?” Toby asked.

Mr. Hawthorne stopped at the end of the buildings and gestured around the area. “A few times each summer, we open the grounds to the public and dress up as if it’s fifteen-eight-eighty,” he said. “Rebecca dresses up as Queen Elizabeth, local actors join in to perform Shakespeare and improv, and we even hold jousting tournaments. They’re a real draw.”

Toby’s brow went up. It actually sounded like a lot of fun.

Duckie seemed to think so, too. “So Hawthorne House already has a reputation for putting on these Renaissance weekends?” he asked, rubbing his chin.

“We do,” Mr. Hawthorne said, narrowing his eyes a little. “We strive for authenticity, which is why all the kids dodemonstrations of their various arts and the techniques people would have used before the Industrial Revolution.”

“Are there any rides?” Duckie asked. “Games?”

An itch started to spread down Toby’s back as he watched Duckie looking around at the space. He had a bad feeling his mentor was hatching some sort of an idea for a historically themed amusement park, maybe even some sort of tie-in to any number of popular historic cartoons or movies that had been made by major studios lately.

“Plenty of games,” Mr. Hawthorne said, gesturing for them to walk on with him. “Not so much rides, although we bring in a giant swing shaped like a pirate ship for the kids. You could consider that a ride.”

Duckie laughed, but there was a definite edge to it. “No, Mr. Hawthorne. That doesn’t count as a ride.”

Something inside Toby sank. It was clear to him that Duckie didn’t think much of Mr. Hawthorne. In all likelihood, Duckie thought it would be easy to take whatever he wanted from the Hawthornes. He probably thought the family would roll over and give him everything in exchange for the money.

“You said people perform Shakespeare?” he asked, walking a little faster so he could walk by Mr. Hawthorne’s side. “Do you have a stage for that?”

Mr. Hawthorne smiled at him. “That’s just where I was taking us all.”

Sure enough, on the other side of a row of trees that looked like they had been planted specifically to divide the noisier workshops from the rest of the grounds stood a small, wooden stage. It faced a slope on the other side of the trees, which was where the audience must have sat for performances, and it had a minimal backstage area.

“It’s not much, but we’ve had some pretty notable performers in the past. Sawyer Kingston played Benedick inMuch AdoAbout Nothinghere a couple years ago, before he got really famous.”

Toby had to admit he was impressed. More than that, he could see other sorts of performances in the same space. It would require knocking down the current stage, pushing it back, and maybe digging out a bit more of the slope to make the entire area bigger. With a bit of work on the infrastructure to bring more power out to this part of the estate, the family could host even big name performers for concerts or plays of every sort. All of that could be done without interfering with the operations of the school.

And that wasn’t even counting the frankly amazing jousting arena he could see off to one side. That came complete with a massive oval filled with sand, a stage, and stables behind it.

Beside him, Duckie sniffed. “It’s a bit feeble, don’t you think?” he asked.

It took Toby a moment to realize Duckie was talking to him.

“I don’t know,” Toby said, crossing his arms and looking at the space again. “It has potential.”

He did his best to appear calm and disinterested, but inwardly, his heart raced. He could see what Duckie was doing. He was acting as unimpressed as possible, probably so Mr. Hawthorne would lose some of his enthusiasm for his estate. Toby had seen the technique before. If you wanted something, it was easier to convince the person who currently owned it that it wasn’t valuable. Then you could get it for a steal.

Toby’s gut filled with acid as he watched a forlorn look pass through Mr. Hawthorne’s expression.

“You really need to see things when they’re active,” he said, too much uncertainty in his voice. “To do that, you need to be here for the first Renaissance weekend. It’s actually happening this weekend, in four days.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” Duckie said with far too much condescension.

Toby fought not to wince. It wasn’t fair. The Hawthornes had something, they just needed to expand what they were doing. But he could already see all the weapons Duckie would bring out to convince them otherwise.

It was his job to come up with ways to counter whatever Duckie had planned on behalf of Willoughby Entertainment Group. He could already see a hundred different ways to improve Hawthorne House. But was it worth crossing his mentor, a man he owed everything to, just so a bunch of poor little rich boys could keep their fancy house and their pretty art projects?

Fortunately for Toby, he didn’t have to make that decision anytime soon.

“I think a fun weekend of running around, pretending we’re our great-great-great-grandparents sounds like a jolly old time, eh, Toby?” Duckie asked. He slapped Toby’s back so hard Toby nearly lost his footing.

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