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“Tabitha is much taken with the fine decoration of the theatre, and would like to see more of it,” Miss Whittleton said brightly.
“Would she indeed?” Will said, in his blandest tone, knowing what she was about. For an instant he toyed with the idea of thwarting her, for escorting schoolroom chits about was hardly his style, but he felt reasonably sure that was precisely what she expected of him, and he delighted in defying her. “Should you care to stroll about until the play resumes, Miss March? It would be my pleasure to accompany you, for I should very much like to see more of the building myself.”
“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, looking up at him with glowing eyes. As he led his young charge out of the box, he saw a smile of smug satisfaction on Miss Whittleton’s face. Irritating woman!
Miss March rested one hand on his arm, and they proceeded at the glacial pace that was all she seemed able to manage. The corridor was crowded, with groups standing about talking, some in earnest conversations, others laughing. Some people scurried about, in a hurry to get somewhere, but Will and his companion proceeded on their stately way. He was not an architect, nor particularly knowledgeable about decoration, so he simply chatted in a vague way about the elegance of the appointments and the beauty of the artistic embellishments, to which Miss March merely said, “Oh yes, yes indeed!” at intervals. It was dull work.
Eventually, having decided that the Egyptian Hall was a little overblown — “Oh yes, yes indeed!” — and returned upstairs again, and walked the entire length of the corridor without meeting a soul that either of them knew, Will decided he had done his duty and could return Miss March to Lady Carrbridge’s box. They were within sight of waistcoat man, now joined by an elegant man in Brummell-inspired black, when he saw a familiar face. Four familiar faces, in fact.
“Lady Plummer. Lady Charles. Lord Charles. Mr Plummer,” he said, making them a slightly perfunctory bow.
They started at the sight of him, looked searchingly at Miss March and clearly decided she was of no consequence.
“Mr Fletcher.” Then, after a moment’s hesitation as she clearly searched for precisely the right words, Lady Plummer added, “And is town meeting your expectations?” with a superior sort of smirk that told him the answer she expected.
“Certainly,” he said. “We have found it vastly entertaining.”
The temptation to put them in their place and casually mention the names of Lady Carrbridge and Viscount Albury and the Iversons was overwhelming, but Will had an image of a serenely contemptuous face gazing at him. Her words were seared on his heart —‘Her admiration is excited, not by attention towards herself, but by a gentleman’s attention towards others. A true gentleman behaves with kindness to everyone, without thought for his own reward.’Kindness… even to the supercilious Plummers? Perhaps he could manage that.
And at that precise moment, Lady Carrbridge emerged from the box and looked around. “Oh, there you are Tabitha, dear. Do come and sit down, for the play is just about to resume. Thank you so much, Mr Fletcher. Very kind of you.”
Away she whisked, Miss March scurrying in her wake, even as Lady Plummer and her daughter sank into deep curtsies, and Lord Charles and Mr Michael Plummer bowed.
“You are acquainted with the Marchioness of Carrbridge?” Lady Plummer said, eyes narrowing suspiciously, as she rose again.
“Only slightly,” Will said airily, trying with the utmost determination not to gloat. “We were invited to Marford House one afternoon.”
“Marford House!” Lady Charles moaned.
“Quite an impressive place.”
She moaned again, but Lady Plummer had had enough, and with the most cursory of farewells, they moved off.
“Quite impressive, eh?” murmured the waistcoat man with a smile. “Connie will be most distressed that you found her famous Chinese Saloon merely‘quite impressive’.The Prince of Wales described it as‘the most splendid saloon in all of England’, and he should know, I suppose.”
“I bow to His Royal Highness’s far superior judgement,” Will said. “Lord… um?”
“Humphrey,” the waistcoat man said, with unimpaired good humour. “Carrbridge’s brother, for my sins. We met at Marford House for five minutes, so it is hardly a surprise if you have forgotten. This drab fellow in black is Lord Reggie, another brother. Have you ever seen a more dispiriting set of garments, Fletcher? A man needs a spot of colour about him, or he fades away altogether.”
“No one could accuse you of fading away, Humphrey,” Lord Reginald said, poking his brother’s broad chest.
Will left them to their amicable bickering and returned to his own box, where Rosie and Angie were absorbed in the performance, and Stepmother was deploying her opera glass again. Pa was nodding off, but when Will entered, he brightened up.
“Shall we go and find something to drink?” he said hopefully.
“The play is not to your taste, Pa?” Will said. “I know where we can get a glass of wine. Ladies? May we provide you with anything?”
“Later, perhaps,” Stepmother said. “Harry, I hope you will not abandon us for long.”
“I shall be back in no time, my dear.”
Outside the box, he heaved a great sigh. “Lord, that play is tedious! I prefer a good farce, myself.”
The corridors were a little quieter than before as the two made their way to the refreshments room. Here there was a great crush, and they stopped on the threshold, daunted.
“Leave this to me,” Pa said, eventually. “No need for us both to go in, and I can elbow my way through the crowd better than you, I dare say. I’ve had plenty of practice at the Carrbridge Arms on market day. Wait outside, where it’s a bit easier to breathe.”
Will turned away, and wandered towards the nearest stairwell. A familiar figure stood there, leaning on the balustrade and looking at the crowds below. She was alone.
