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Jessie regarded her great-aunt in her mauve silk turban covering her short grey curls. Even at her age, she noted her aunt made an attractive picture. She twinkled at her and whispered, “Now, Auntie...tell me you never had a charming rogue lead you out more than once, twice...or even three times!”
For her trouble, Jessie had her wrist slapped with her great-aunt’s fan, but the smile on the dowager’s face told a story.
Sir Warren was, by then, bending over the dowager’s gloved hand in greeting. “Ah, Lady Wilton, enchanting as ever,” he said smoothly.
Jessie watched her aunt’s face, and saw that while the dowager did not totally approve of Rodrigo, she didn’t really approve of Sir Warren either. She decided her aunt was in the predicament of choosing the lesser of two evils, and the notion almost made Jessie giggle out loud.
“Ah,” the dowager answered Sir Warren. “You do that so well, Warren lad, so well another old lady might believe you. This one, however, knows better.” Her smile was benign and fooled no one.
Sir Warren regarded her, and Jessie saw a calculation in his eyes. She had to wonder what he was up to.
“I was just mentioning to Lady Jessica that I intend to get up a party to take in June Keenen’s play over at the Drury, and it occurred to me that while the admiral is out of town, you and your niece might like to join me in this adventure. We could also take dinner at Clarridge’s afterwards.”
The dowager’s eyes opened wide, and Jessie screwed up her mouth, for it was obvious to her that she was about to accept.
“Why, Sir Warren, that is a marvelous notion. Indeed, I think Jessie and I would enjoy such an outing.”
Jessie could only smile politely. She had quite made up her mind that she had to keep Sir Warren at arms’ length, and this did not work out with that plan. However, there was nothing she could do—her aunt had accepted for them both.
She just then happened to look across the room, and was startled and sadly chagrined to see Rodrigo taking leave of his hostess. He hadn’t even looked in her direction. What was wrong? Hadn’t it only been that very afternoon when he held her in his arms?
How could her mind and heart sustain the highs and lows he put her through? Why was he leaving? His kisses apparently meant nothing to him. Was he off to visit his mistress, June Keenen? She had hoped that was over. The gossip was that it was over.
Suddenly, her world went black. Love, if this was love, was nothing like she had imagined it would be.
~ Fourteen ~
HENRY HOLLAND DID JUSTICE TO his reputation when he built the Theatre Royal on Drury Lane. It proved to be one of London’s two great theatres. In its boxes, the fashionable haute ton were able to recline in sparkling elegance. In its corridors, they were able to mingle discreetly. In its green room, they were able to take wine and Negus. All these circumstances helped to make his theatre a great success.
In the theatre’s pit, the less fortunate were able to look up and around with their eyes and mouths wide open at the aristocracy. They were what was the future’s middle class, merchants, tradesmen, shop owners, and such.
One young city merchant nudged his companion and indicated a box just above to their left. In it sat a young red-haired beauty whose smile had totally captivated him. His crony groaned in broad cockney. “Ay now, mate, she be stunning, aye.”
They continued to stare at her, with the silver feather floating over her long curls. Her eyes, they saw, were violet, and they sighed to look into them. Her gown was off the shoulder, heart-shaped at the bodice, and its silvery shades of silk were adorned with embroidered black velvet fern leaves.
“Aye, but her smile...” the merchant said longingly.
It was at that moment Jessie felt their stares and gave them a sweet smile, which caused the two lads to put their hands to their hearts. In unison, they took off their top hats and made her a sweeping bow. She laughed, but knew enough to still any further interactions by looking away.
Sir Warren called her attention to Lady Jersey’s quip. Jessie listened as attentively as she could, for she found her attention span these last few days was not what it should have been. It certainly was not what it had always been. Four days. Four days had passed without a word from Rodrigo.
She had not seen him at Almack’s or at the Venetian breakfast Lord Amherst had held only yesterday. Now at the theatre, he was nowhere to be seen. She was confused, hurt, and blue-deviled. Aunt Charlie had allowed Sir Warren to escort them to Drury Lane. He had even selected Lady Jersey to be one of their party, as well as both Lord and Lady Amherst, who were both amongst her great-aunt’s favorites. Sir Warren had even invited Pauly to be one of their party, and this should have picked up Jessie’s spirits. However, every now and then, she felt herself go off into another world, and one that only made her sigh wistfully.
“Ah, the orchestra is telling us that the screen is about to go up,” Sir Warren said portentously. There was a strange quality in his voice that caught Jessie’s interest, and she glanced at him with some curiosity. He did appear to be unusually animated, as though in anticipation of something more than the play that was about to be enacted on the stage.
An arm slid around her back and pulled one of the long, twirling copper lit, flame-colored curls that hung there. She looked around and found Pauly taking his seat behind her and smiled. How she had hoped to see Rodrigo’s face, and what a terrible letdown it had been.
She gave him a brave smile, as she wouldn’t want him to know how depressed she really was. On her left, Sir Warren watched everything. She saw and wondered at it. On her right, her great-aunt conversed amicably with Lady Amherst and the Jersey.
“Where have you been, beast that you are?” she whispered to Pauly.
“Having a jolly good time of it below, that’s where. Bored, are you? Well, never mind, look, they are snuffing out the candles. They mean for us to have an eyeful of Keenen when she enters. I am told she likes to make a show of her entrance.”
“Does she?” Jessie attempted to shade her interest.
The orchestra lifted to a crescendo, the curtain began to rise, and a hush fell over the audience.
Jessie’s eyes rounded, and her heart took on an extra beat before it sank as she took in the full measure and scope of the beautiful actress, June Keenen. Here, her mind shouted, was Rodrigo’s mistress. How could she ever compete with such a sophisticated beauty?
