one
Theatre Royal, 1887
THE MORE ROYSTON knew human beings, the more he appreciated animals.
He’d been a footman at the service of Lord Stephen Dunn, Earl of Havisham, for two years now, but His Lordship’s attitude still surprised him, and not always in a good fashion.
Royston stood at attention in the plush, private opera box of the earl, feeling a bit out of place in his footman uniform. The box looked like a giant jewellery case. Velvet everywhere, golden stucco, and polished wood.
“My lord, I’m afraid I didn’t understand,” he said.
Lord Havisham brushed an invisible speck of dust from his shiny evening suit. “It’s all very simple. I’m going to receive a lady here tonight.”
Of course he was. If a competition in adultery existed, the earl would be the champion.
“Mrs. Haywood will come with her daughter, Miss Haywood.” Lord Havisham cast a bored glance at the seats in the auditorium that slowly filled with people before the beginning of the performance. “Do you follow me so far?”
“I do, my lord.” Royston had understood that part even the first time the earl had explained it. It was the second part that wasn’t clear.
“I want you to keep Miss Haywood out of my box.” The earl pointed at the box door for extra clarity.
“Yes, my lord, but what if Miss Haywood wishes to leave? And where should I keep her? In the hallway? For how long? The play is about two hours long.”
The earl’s request was ridiculous. Soon the play would start, and he was supposed to prevent a woman from watching it.
Lord Havisham huffed. “I don’t care where you keep Miss Haywood. Rest assured, I’ll let her in at a certain point. I want to be alone with her mother for a while.”
The fact the earl was interested in the mother was a comfort of sorts, since he had the tendency to favour young women.
Royston bowed, still full of doubts. “My lord.”
“Don’t listen to what Miss Haywood says in case she protests. She won’t get in here with her mother unless I say so.”
Miss Haywood didn’t know it yet, but she was going to be upset. Royston bowed again. There was a lot of bowing to perform around aristocrats.
Lord Havisham sat down on the stuffed chair, his features softening. “I know you disapprove, but Mrs. Haywood is the widow of a gentleman who died years ago. A robbery, I think. Anyway, I didn’t want to meet her in my house, for personal reasons.”
When Lord Havisham talked about meeting a woman for ‘personal reasons,’ he meant he was looking for a new mistress.
“Needless to say,” Lord Havisham said, “no one should know I’m seeing her here tonight.”
Royston didn’t say anything. The only comment he wanted to voice was, ‘You’re a bloody idiot and should be ashamed of yourself.’ His mother had been a prostitute in a brothel inClerkenwell. He knew all about lords’ mistresses and other dirty secrets.
“Of course, my lord. I know my place. But I must speak my mind.”
“Pray, do.” Lord Havisham sounded bored.
“My lord, what if Miss Haywood wants to leave the theatre? Once she realises she can’t enter the box, she won’t have any reason to stay here. Not to mention she’ll get upset.”
That gave the earl something to ponder. “Hmm… no, don’t let her leave for any reason. I don’t know for how long I need to be alone with Mrs. Haywood. Just don’t let her leave the hallway.”
Ridiculous.
Lord Havisham waved him out. “That’s all, Royston. You may wait outside.”
Royston bowed one last time before leaving the opera box. The things he did for a salary. But the alternative was to return to being a cat burglar, risking being thrown in prison at any moment, or starving in a dank alleyway. Both options weren’t appealing in the least.
He stood in the hallway next to the door as the other members of the audience walked to their boxes. Perhaps he complained too much. As someone who had grown up in a brothel, become a professional thief, and narrowly escaped from the peelers more times than he’d care to count, having been hired as an earl’s footman was a huge improvement. A regular salary, a warm and dry room, and proper meals.
