Sons of Fortune Read online

  Even dressed in her school uniform, Rebecca stood out from the rest of the girls Mr. Thompson was auditioning. The tall, slim girl with fair hair cascading down her shoulders had an air of self-confidence that captivated Nat, and a smile that made him respond immediately. When she returned his smile, he turned away, embarrassed to have embarrassed her. All he knew about her was her name. “What’s in a name,” he said.

  “Wrong play Nat, try again.”

  Rebecca Armitage waited as Nat stumbled through his words, “But here the lady comes…” Rebecca was surprised because when she’d stood at the back of the hall and heard him earlier, he had sounded so totally self-assured. She looked down at her script and read, “Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well, now go with me and with this holy man into the chantry by: there, before him, and underneath that consecrated roof, plight me the full assurance of your faith; that my most jealous and too doubtful soul may live at peace. He shall conceal it while you are willing it shall come to note, what time we will our celebration keep according to my birth. What do you say?”

  Nat said nothing.

  “Nat, had you thought of joining in?” suggested Mr. Thompson. “So that Rebecca can at least deliver a few more lines? I admit that the adoring look is most effective, and for some might pass as acting, but this is not a mime we’re performing. One or two of the audience might even have come to hear the familiar words of Mr. Shakespeare.”

  “Yes, sir, sorry sir,” said Nat, returning to the script. “I’ll follow this good man, and go with you; and having sworn truth, ever will be true.”

  “Then lead the way, good father; and heavens so shine, that they may fairly note this act of mine.”

  “Thank you, Miss Armitage, I don’t think I need to hear any more.”

  “But she was wonderful,” said Nat.

  “Ah, you can deliver an entire line without pausing,” said Mr. Thompson. “That’s a relief to discover at this late stage, but then I had no idea you wanted to be the director as well as play the lead. However, Nat, I think I have already made up my mind who will play the fair Olivia.”

  Nat watched Rebecca as she quickly left the stage. “Then what about Viola?” he persisted.

  “No, if I’ve understood the plot correctly, Nat, Viola is your twin sister, and unfortunately or fortunately Rebecca bears absolutely no resemblance to you.”

  “Then Maria, she’d make a wonderful Maria.”

  “I’m sure she would, but Rebecca is far too tall to play Maria.”

  “Have you thought of playing Feste as a woman?” asked Nat.

  “No, to be honest, Nat, I hadn’t, partly because I don’t have the time to rewrite the entire script.”

  Nat didn’t notice Rebecca slip behind a pillar, trying to hide her embarrassment as he blundered on. “What about the maidservant in Olivia’s household?”

  “What about her?”

  “Rebecca would make a wonderful maidservant.”

  “I’m sure she would, but she can’t play Olivia and be her maidservant at the same time. Someone in the audience might notice.” Nat opened his mouth but didn’t speak. “Ah, silence at last, but I feel confident that you will be rewriting the play overnight, in order to ensure that Olivia has several new scenes with Sebastian that Mr. Shakespeare hadn’t even considered.” Nat heard a giggle from behind the pillar. “Anyone else you fancy for the maidservant, Nat, or can I carry on with casting the play?”

  “Sorry, sir,” said Nat. “Sorry.”

  Mr. Thompson leaped onto the stage, smiled at Nat and whispered, “If you were considering playing hard to get, Nat, I’m bound to say I think you’ve blown it. You’ve made yourself more available than a whore in a Las Vegas casino. And I feel sure you’ll be interested to learn that next year’s play will be The Taming of the Shrew, which I feel might have been more appropriate. If only you’d been born a year later, how different your life would have been. However, good luck with Miss Armitage.”

  “The boy must be expelled,” said Mr. Fleming. “No other punishment would be appropriate.”

  “But, sir,” said Fletcher, “Pearson is only fifteen, and he apologized to Mrs. Appleyard immediately.”

  “I would have expected nothing less,” said the chaplain, who until that moment had not offered an opinion.

  “And in any case,” said the principal, rising from behind his desk, “can you imagine the effect on school discipline if it became known that you could get away with swearing at a master’s wife?”

  “And because of the words, ‘bitchy woman,’ the boy’s entire future is to be determined?”

  “That’s the consequence of such ill manners,” said the principal, “and at least, this way, one can be certain he’ll learn from it.”

  “But what will he learn?” asked Fletcher. “That you can never afford to make a mistake in life, or that you must never swear?”

  “Why are you defending the boy so vehemently?”

  “In the first lecture I ever heard you deliver, sir, you told us that not to stand up and be counted when an injustice had been done was the act of a coward.”

  Mr. Fleming glanced at the chaplain, who made no comment. He remembered the lecture well. After all he delivered the same text to every new entering class.

  “May I be allowed to ask you an impertinent question?” asked Fletcher, turning to face the chaplain.

  “Yes,” said Dr. Wade a little defensively.

  “Have you ever wanted to swear at Mrs. Appleyard, because I have, several times.”

  “But that’s the point, Fletcher, you showed some self-restraint. Pearson didn’t, and therefore he must be punished.”

  “If that punishment is to be expulsion, sir, then I must resign as president of the student government, Principal, because the Bible tells us that the thought is as evil as the deed.”

  Both men stared at him in disbelief. “But why, Fletcher? Surely you realize that if you were to resign it could even affect your chances of being offered a place at Yale?”

  “The type of person who would allow that to influence him isn’t worthy of a place at Yale.”

  Both men were so stunned by this remark that neither spoke for some time. “Isn’t that a bit extreme, Fletcher?” the chaplain eventually managed.

  “Not for the boy in question it isn’t, Dr. Wade, and I am not willing to stand and watch this student sacrificed on the altar of a woman who gets her kicks from goading pubescent boys.”

  “And you would resign as president to prove your point?” asked the principal.

  “Not to do it, sir, would be only one step away from what your generation condoned at the time of McCarthy.”

  Another long silence followed, before the chaplain said quietly, “Did the boy apologize in person to Mrs. Appleyard?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Fletcher, “and he followed it up with a letter.”

  “Then perhaps probation for the remainder of the term would be more appropriate,” suggested the principal, glancing at the chaplain.

  “Along with the loss of all privileges, including weekend leaves, until further notice,” added Dr. Wade.

  “Does that seem to you a fair compromise, Fletcher?” asked the principal, raising an eyebrow.

  It was Fletcher’s turn to remain silent. “Compromise, Fletcher,” interjected the chaplain, “is something you will have to learn to live with if you hope to become a successful politician.”

  Fletcher didn’t respond immediately. “I accept your judgment, Dr. Wade,” he eventually said, and, turning to the principal, added, “and thank you for your indulgence, sir.”

  “Thank you, Fletcher,” said Mr. Fleming as the student president rose from his place and left the principal’s study.

  “Wisdom, courage and conviction are rare enough in a grown man,” said the principal quietly as the door closed, “but in a child…”

  “Then what is your explanation, Mr. Cartwright?” asked the dean of Yale’s examination board.

  “I d