While she wasn’t thieving now—certainly never from Mark’s family—Eliza used those same methods to charm and disarm her companions as they found their way to their seats. She didn’t want Sir Mark to be reminded of his difficult week at the Bank, nor did she want the Coopers to stress about domestic challenges. Eliza wanted everyone to enjoy their evening as much as she did.
To her delight, Mark surprised them with box seats overlooking the stage. Their quartet of plushly cushioned chairs provided a perfect view of the play and a sightline to the pit, stalls, and balcony circle surrounding them. If she craned her neck, she could spy the cheap, gallery benches in the rafters where an even poor girl could scarcely afford to sit.
She and Mark took their places by the railing, while Ann and Sidney Cooper sat behind them. The confines of their box were close but comfortable. The auditorium was decorated with white marble columns, fluted, and gilded, and gleaming. The brocaded hangings and upholstered furnishing were of yellow, white, gold, and blue. An enormous electric chandelier hung from the center of the high ceiling, casting shards of crystalline light across the faces of the patrons below.
The Lyric Theatre was glamorous and elegant, and Eliza perched in one of its most prominent positions. She could see everyone and everyone could seeher.Like those gawkers in the street, the audience thought her to be a real lady! They gazed enviously at her—a pretty girl in a private box, dressed in the height of fashion on the arm of a handsome and influential gentleman.
Nobody turned their noses up at her now!
Eliza swished her heavy velvet skirts and settled in for the first act. Studying her playbill, she learned thatFloradorawas a tale of flower-pickers on a distant, tropical island who manufactured perfume. That same bottled scent was available to be purchased from attendants for two shillings and a sixpence during the entire run of the show. One could drink, shop, and be entertained, all from the comfort of one’s backside.
The luxuries of the wealthy, which they mostly took for granted, never ceased to amaze her.
Mark amazed her, as well, for when the auditorium lights dimmed and their smart little foursome was no longer visible to the masses, he leaned toward her and took her hand in his. He placed their entwined fingers upon his thigh, resting atop the soft wool of his evening trousers. She felt the muscles of his leg, strong and unyielding beneath her touch, and the warmth of his blood coursing through his veins. He was vigorous and healthy, honorable, and undoubtedly attracted to her.
He smiled at her in a way that made her heart skitter.
She was attracted to him, too.
For a moment, Mark watched her enjoy the show.Floradorawas bright, lively, and amusing. The stage dressings were enchanting and the players were beautiful, and she laughed along with the other patrons at this charming musical comedy.
When the clerks from the counting house sang,“The Credit’s Due to Me”, claiming that the success of the perfume factory was due to their bookkeeping, she grinned into Mark’s smiling face.
He stroked her gloved knuckles fondly. He had bought the tickets, yet her host seemed to take delight in her reaction to the songs, jokes, and dialogue. He cared for her comfort, her amusement, and her companionship.
He sent Ann to her so that she wouldn’t be alone during the day. He encouraged her to write a letter to the editor ofThe Gentleman’s Gazette—under the assumed masculine name of Ellis Smith—regarding the atrocities in Africa and the plight of London’s poorest residents here at home. He’d even corrected her spelling on one particularly passionate draft.
Thanks to Mark, her life was feeling very full. Eliza traced her kid-clad fingertips across the back of his large, fine hand. With him, she scarcely remembered the troubles of her earlier days, when she’d been hungry, lonely, and desperate. With him, she had friends, food, and fun. Her existence had taken on a dreamy sort of reality that she’d recalled from her girlhood as pure happiness.
She was happy with Sir Mark van Bergen.
Too soon, the curtain fell and the lights of the auditorium rose. Eliza let her hand fall from Mark’s grip to fumble for her playbill. She searched through the pages, asking, “Is it over already?”
Mark angled toward her to answer, “It is the interval, a rest in the production. We may use this time to stretch our legs or I could fetch you something to drink if you’d like.”
Ann spoke up. “Oh, do fetch us some lemonade.” She leaned into the gap between their chairs conspiratorially. “You and Sid go so that Eliza and I may gossip freely about all she’s seen tonight.”
Mark stood and bowed to the ladies. He and Mr. Cooper disappeared from the private box to procure their refreshments. Ann took the seat that he’d vacated. She gathered her skirts in her delicate hands, and then swooped into view of the audience milling about below. The diamond pendant at her throat sparkled in the glow of the central chandelier, and with their feminine heads together, she and Eliza must’ve made a pretty picture for the other patrons.
Smiling, Ann brushed aside a curl that had fallen loose from Eliza’s pins. “I am so glad you chose to wear the blue velvet tonight. How clever you are to utilize a ribbon instead of some silly bauble. Your sense of fashion sets you apart from the rest of us.”
“That’s because I don’t own any baubles.” Her eyes fell on Ann’s necklace. “Believe me, if I had them, I’d wear them.”
Just once, she’d like to experience the sensation of an expensive stone resting against her skin—and then she’d probably sell it, for what use hadshefor jewelry?
“You may get your diamonds yet, Eliza,” Mark’s sister whispered sweetly and so softly that her words had scarcely been heard. “You fit in so well at Green Street that I should be sorry to see you go…”
“But I cannot stay forever. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“You want your independence,” Ann offered judiciously.
Eliza shrugged, for she’d known no different life. “I’ve been independent since I was fifteen. I have no father, no mother, and nobody to look after me. You and Sir Mark have been very kind, but I would never want to be indebted to either of you.”
“Heavens! You don’t think that, do you? Surely, no one in my brother’s household has made you feel obliged in any way.”
“No, they’ve all been helpful and respectful,” Eliza said, “and Sir Mark has become a dear friend to me.”
She felt the heat rising in her cheeks, as it had been a long time since she’d thought of Mark as merely a friend. For almost a fortnight, they had shared a home. They’d learned one another’s habits and preferences, and sought to please each other in all the little ways that they could. They’d been chaste, of course—Mark was a perfect gentleman—but a lack of physical intimacy hadn’t stopped the emotional closeness burgeoning between them.
