Make Believe
There are times when you feel sad and blue
Something’s wrong, you don’t know what to do
When you feel that way, stop and think awhile
Just make believe and smile
Make believe you are glad when you’re sorry
Sunshine will follow the rain
When things go wrong, it won’t be long
Soon they’ll be right again
Tho’ your love dreams have gone, make believe, don’t let on
Smile tho’ your heart may be broken
For when bad luck departs, you will find good luck starts
Don’t grieve, just make believe
When your dearest friends have turned away
And blue skies above have turned to gray
Don’t worry for it may not all be true
Here’s my advice to you
Make believe you are glad when you’re sorry
Sunshine will follow the rain
When things go wrong, it won’t be long
Soon they’ll be right again
Tho’ your love dreams have gone, make believe, don’t let on
Smile tho’ your heart may be broken
For when bad luck departs, you will find good luck starts
Don’t grieve, just make believe.
Music and lyrics: Jack Shilkret/Benny Davis, 1921
Cast of Characters
Fernald Hall, Broughton Magna
Lady Adelaide Compton (Addie)
Major Rupert Compton, ghost
Sir Hugh Fernald, baronet
Lady Pamela Fernald, his wife
Lady Evelyn Fernald, his mother
John Fernald, his son
Mrs. Iris Temple, his aunt by marriage
Miss Marguerite (Margie) Jordan
Miss Amanda (Mandy) Jordan
Owen Bradbury
Captain Dennis Clifford
Simon Davies
Patrick Cassidy
Lord Lucas Waring
Philippa Dean, Lucas’s new girlfriend
Beckett, Addie’s maid
Jim Musgrave, Sir Hugh’s valet
Trim, Sir Hugh’s butler
Mrs. Lewis, the housekeeper/cook
Juliet Barlow, John’s governess and Pamela’s cousin
Murray, Pamela’s maid
Mary, a maid
Colin Stewart, tutor
Barry Dunn, head gardener
Bert Dunn, his cousin
Charlie Dunn, Bert’s brother
Robby and Liam, grooms
Bill Parks, landlord at the Pig and Shilling, Broughton Magna
Dower House, Broughton Park, Broughton Magna
Lady Cecilia Merrill, Addie’s sister
Ian Merrill, Marquess of Broughton, their cousin
Carstairs, butler
Compton Chase, Compton-Under-Wood
Forbes, butler
Mrs. Drum, housekeeper
Mrs. Oxley, cook
Scotland Yard
Detective Inspector Devenand Hunter
Sergeant Bob Wells
Dear Addie,
Hugh and I hope you can join us for a week at Fernald Hall Saturday next. We’ll have a small, congenial group—a few old army chums of Hugh’s and a pair of pretty twins who remind me of our debutante days. Such girlish glory. How time marches on.
Lucas agreed to be torn from his farming duties for most of the week, and I count on you to keep him out of trouble and away from disobliging sheep and reluctant root vegetables. It will be heaven to have dear friends here again. We’ve missed you!
Bring your riding togs. We’ll have three new additions to our stables, brought all the way from Ireland. I can’t wait for you to see the improvements I plan for the grounds here and will welcome your suggestions. I do hope you can come despite the late notice.
Yours affectionately,
Pamela
Chapter One
Fernald Hall, Broughton Magna, Gloucestershire
A Saturday afternoon in June 1925
The brick stableyard was clattering with laughing guests and lofty horses, the equines’ blindingly shiny tack redolent of harness oil, brass polish, and saddle soap. The humans were equally well turned-out, and Lady Adelaide Compton was glad she’d had a new riding habit made. The jade tweed brought out the green of her hazel eyes. Even if she disgraced herself riding, she’d look damn good doing it.
She waited for her mount to be brought out to her from its box with just a touch of nervous excitement. It had been quite some time since she’d sat on a horse. Major Rupert Charles Cressleigh Compton, her late and sincerely unlamented husband, had converted their stables at Compton Chase into a garage to hold his car collection.
To be frank, she now preferred an automobile’s horsepower to the real thing. Much to her late—and sincerely lamented—father’s disappointment, despite years of Pony Club, she’d never been a natural horsewoman. It was doubtful she’d turn into Boudicca one month shy of turning thirty-two.
She swallowed as a horse was led to her. It was very…tall. Glossy as the rest of Hugh’s mounts, perhaps even glossier. A lovely color, rather like an Irish setter, which made sense, since he was an Irish horse. But still…
Addie had reservations. Her reluctance must have shown, for the Irish horse stud owner Patrick Cassidy, as glossy and burnished as the horse itself, touched her shoulder. Ordinarily, she would have stiffened at the familiarity; she’d only met the man at lunch. But this week she was trying to be the woman everyone expected her to be.
A merry widow. Sophisticated. Rich and titled. Not a care in the world. Closets full of first-class fashion, half of which she’d apparently brought with her for the week-long house party, since her maid, Beckett, wanted her to make a good impression. Even if she changed ten times a day, she’d never repeat herself.
With her usual cheeky candor, Beckett had informed Addie that she needed some fun. A flirtation was just the ticket, one that might even turn into a fling, as was de rigueur at so many country-house parties.
Naughty nocturnal navigations.
What her maid left unsaid: something to take away the sting of Addie’s unsuccessful attempt to seduce Detective Inspector Devenand Hunter of Scotland Yard. She had thrown herself at the man two months ago and he’d resolutely refused to catch her.