Page 22 of The Wilful Widow
“Help! Help! Someone help me kill the wolf before he kills me!” Beatrice implored the audience while her stepfather-to-be stood behind her, growling, with his arms outstretched—but not before a bit of prodding from Katherine, Charlotte noted.
The audience laughed loudly, entering into the spirit of the performance with murmurs andoohsandaahs.
And then Alexander was there to the rescue, declaring grandly when Beatrice begged his help, “I don’t kill wolves, Little Red Riding Hood; I slay dragons,” as he brandished his heavy silver sword. “But I will make an exception in this case.”
“Then you are my hero, and you must rescue me, I beg you, kind sir!”
Consulting his script, Alexander brought up his weapon and gently sliced it through the air in the direction of Lord Ashbrook who, upon a hastily whispered exhortation from Katherine, obediently crumpled to the ground.
Charlotte wondered if he’d be so compliant when he was her husband, while her heart thudded out a distinct tattoo at the look on Alexander’s face. It would have been nice to have believed he felt personal satisfaction in vanquishing Charlotte’s intended as opposed to the wolf in a child’s play.
The audience clapped enthusiastically and might have been forgiven for imagining the play had ended, for Beatrice remained where she was at the front of the raised dais as Katherine stepped forward and began to read clearly as the narrator:
And so LittleRed Riding Hood’s grandmother was restored to life, but the wolf was not the last evil creature her gallant hero was called upon to slay that day.
No, no, ladies and gentlemen, it was not, for far away in another land, a beautiful princess was trapped in a tall tower. And when she saw the gallant woodsman approach, she called out—
Charlotte glanced across at Jessamine, who’d just received a nod from Katherine and now read obediently from the script in front of her:
“Help! Help! I have been imprisoned by a wicked witch in this tower for many years. The good fairies prophesied that I would be rescued by the man who would become my husband. Could that be you, good sir?”
From the shadows, Charlotte studied Alexander’s expression. It was a guilty pleasure to be given license to feast her eyes on him as he went through the motions as the centre of attention. Every now and again he’d lean in to hear how Katherine was directing him. To Charlotte’s surprise, she noticed Beatrice had happily taken hold of his hand as they’d progressed along the winding path that led to the castle tower. So often, Beatrice was reticent in the company of strangers, but she looked quite comfortable with Alexander.
Happy and relaxed. It wasn’t often Beatrice was without a look of anxiety pinching her pale little face and Charlotte wished she was equally comfortable with Ashbrook.
And then she saw the bright light in Jessamine’s eyes as she recited her lines to her husband-to-be. Yes, it would do well not to forget that Alexander was spoken for.
All Charlotte was doing was prolonging her pain if she looked for anything in his gaze that might suggest his heart was not where it should be—with his betrothed.
He was as out of bounds to Charlotte as she was to him.
And that was where the matter should end for her right here and now.
“Of course I shall rescue you, fair princess, for I am not one to shirk his duty.” Alexander looked down at his script and diligently read what Katherine had written for him, word-for-word, about to continue when Katherine interjected as the narrator:
But behold, there was another fair lady who needed rescuing. Living the life of a nun, though she’d had four husbands, this fair lady watched her hero slay dragons while her heart bled for love of him.
Yes, he was her hero, and had been since she’d known him nine long years before.
But tho’ she felt great love for our hero, and despised wolves, she kept her tongue, for she was the kind of heroine who did keep secret what was in her madly beating heart if it would be in the interests of her daughter, Little Red Riding Hood, who…”
There was a deathly pause,a shifting of confusion on the part of the audience, and a sense of confusion and horror on Charlotte’s part as she heard the words… “had no father.”
Riveted to the spot, Charlotte watched Beatrice throw back her hood and announce to the audience, “But now I know the truth. Idohave a father!”
With a gasp, Charlotte rose, staring at the audience whose interest had been thoroughlyaroused.
Everyone here knew Beatrice had been disowned by Busselton; that, effectively, the child had been branded as fatherless.
She saw Ladies Fenton and Quamby exchange concerned looks, unsure, perhaps, whether to silence young Katherine, who was gazing about with a look of supreme satisfaction.
Then Beatrice was flinging around and pointing to Alexander, crying out earnestly, “Thereis my father! See! I do have a father!”
Charlotte took a step forward, uncertain of what to do. A low murmur was rising to one of heightened speculation. People looked puzzled, frowning between Beatrice, Alexander and...Charlotte who felt the heat of shame burn her cheeks.
“I do have a father!” Beatrice cried again and, with a look of confusion, Alexander transferred his gaze from Jessamine, whose script obviously yielded nothing and who looked as confused as he did, to Katherine, who took another step forward and narrated smoothly,
“Forsooth dear listener,the child, Little Red Riding Hood, speaks the truth. While our hero left English soil nine years before to conquer the world, his ladylove tried in vain to find him so as to reunite him with his child…so they could be the family of which she dreamed.
