Chastity had not prevented Eliza from falling for him.
Indeed, it made herwantingall the sweeter.
Ann Cooper seemed to understand this predicament, saying, “Wouldn’t it be a shame to lose such a dear friend?”
Before they could discuss the matter further, a strange young woman appeared in the doorway of their box. She was dark-haired and comely, and dressed in iridescent fuchsia pink. The bodice of her evening gown was trimmed with swags of lace gathered beneath fat, silk flowers at her shoulders. Eliza had never seen anything so bright, or anybody so pretty.
Even Ann turned to admire the newcomer. “Miss Prevost, what a pleasant surprise!”
The girl swept into their private seating area with a friendly smile on her lips. She extended her hand to Mrs. Cooper while explaining, “I hope you don’t mind, but my party recognized you from across the theatre.” After the appropriate introductions, the young lady explained, “Mama and I are seated with the Duchess of Bodlington in the box directly opposite this.” She gestured to the other side of the auditorium, where a row of identical boxes flanked the stage. “Her Grace bids you to come and see her, ma’am, and I have been sent as her messenger. I believe you are acquainted.”
“I know Their Graces well,” Ann answered. “The Bodlingtons do their banking with Stannard-Hopeley where my husband is employed, and we are nearly neighbors in Piccadilly.”
Miss Prevost’s eyes glittered gayly. “Then you mustn’t deny the duchess your company!”
Ann looked to Eliza, frowning. “I shouldn’t leave Miss Summersby…”
“I’ll stay with her,” their new friend offered. “You can observe us from where you sit, so don’t worry, for we shan’t get into mischief.”
Alone together in the box, Eliza made room for Miss Prevost. She noticed the girl fussing with a strand of pearls clasped at her wrist. “That’s a lovely bracelet.”
“Thank you.” Miss Prevost offered it for her inspection. “It was a gift for my eighteenth birthday. Every girl ought to have something special to mark the occasion of her come-out—or so my mother said.” She fussed with the luminous pearls, asking, “Have you made your debut?”
Eliza shook her head. Birthday parties and Court presentations weren’t for girls like her. She’d been born illegitimate and didn’t even know her father’s name.
Miss Prevost charged onward, talking merrily, “You’re here with Sir Mark, aren’t you? I saw you turtle-doving! I’m afraid my parents won’t like that.”
Eliza balked.“Why?”
“Because they hope to marry us, Sir Mark and me.” She laughed at Eliza’s wide-eyed surprise. “Don’t worry, Miss Summersby, I don’t want him. Not that he isn’t marriageable. I only mean that I do not wish to be a banker’s wife.
“I’m an artist, you know, and finance is such a dull career. It’s not creative. Not active. Not productive, really. Imagine being trapped in an office all day with a lot of numbers and economic theories!” This spoiled young lady spoke with such zeal. “The concept of finance doesn’t appeal to me, and I could never marry a man in whom I am not interested. But don’t let me put you off,” she said with a wink. “Sir Mark is simply deevee!”
Both women shared a laugh at that, for Markwasdivine. His career might be dull, but Eliza didn’t mind. She loved his calm constancy. She loved that she could glance at the clock each afternoon and count the minutes until his arrival from the Bank.
Miss Prevost, who’d only ever known wealth and stability, put no stock in the things that made everyday life bearable. She did not value a man like Mark van Bergen because she’d never been forced into the arms of his alternatives—and thankfully so!
The lights in the auditorium began to dim and flicker. Eliza glanced over the railing at the rows of seats in the stalls. Folk began to crowd the aisles and seek their chairs. It seemed that the interval was over.
“That’s my cue to leave,” said Miss Prevost. She offered her gloved hand to Eliza, who watched the pearl bracelet luminesce in the glow of the electric bulbs. “It’s been awfully fun talking to you—far better than the ‘Yes, Your Gracing’ and ‘No, Your Gracing’ in my party’s box! The duchess is such a tyrant, and Mama is a sycophant. I prefer to go my own way.”
Wordlessly, Eliza shook the lady’s hand.
“Good luck to you, Miss Summersby. I do hope we meet again! Society can be so dull, and I sense that you prefer to go your own way, too. It shall be nice to know a kindred spirit.”
With that, Miss Prevost was gone, and Eliza could only laugh. She felt as though she’d just survived a whirlwind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The high point ofFloradorawas the double sextet of men and women—all matched in height, coloring, and costume until they were almost indistinguishable as individuals—performing“Tell Me Pretty Maiden”.
In answer, the audience sat forward, rapt with delight. Mark watched the occupants of his private box. He’d invited Ann and Sidney because he enjoyed their company, and because he required chaperones in order to properly escort Eliza to the theatre, but chiefly because his sister sensed his growing affection for the girl and he wished to explore that further.
Ann approved of Eliza.
His sister was respected and well-connected in society. She was acquainted with duchesses, and knew all the wives and daughters of the Court of Directors. She was friendly with the banking houses of Coutts, Rothschild, Hoare, and Lloyd, among others. Under Ann’s sponsorship, surely no one would shun Eliza.
Already his plan was working, for Hilda Prevost had called at their box, and had spent the interval conversing with Eliza. His pretty former pickpocket ought to have friends nearer to her age, and Miss Prevost was a suitably exciting young woman—the more forcefully her parents thrust her into society, the more fervently she clung to her artistry.
