"I'm doing this for your mother, mind you," she'd said as the carriage arrived at the opera. "To repay a favour. I have agreed to help you find a suitable match. All you have to do is sit in my box, smile and look pretty. The opera will do the rest."
"Like a piece of meat on display for the highest bidder," Mira had muttered to herself as Lady Randolph stepped out of the carriage.
Miss Cullpepper had stared at Mira, eyes wide.
Mira had smiled back. "Everything will be fine, miss."
Mira was wearing a simple lavender dress that Rose had long since outgrown. She did not know it, but she looked lovely in it, fragile and delicate.
Her hands were damp in the gloves. Why did she have to wear these things? They itched and kept slipping down her elbows. Mira kept pulling them up, wishing she could just take them off. But Lady Cullpepper had insisted that she wear them.
All the lords and ladies of thetonwere here, each personage greater than the last. They were all wearing gloves, Mira noticed. Even the gentlemen.
They were terrifying people, names that she'd only heard mentioned through the grapevine of servants or read about in the papers. At best she would see a lofty lord climb into his curricle outside his club in Brook Street, and she would only know that because someone in the street mentioned it: "Look, it's the Earl of Buckingham!" Or she would see Lady so-and-so entering a dressmaker's shop in Bond Street, one she would never dare venture into herself. That was most of her contact with the beau monde.
Mira had no great fondness for the aristocracy. As a maid, she was invisible to them. They would never tolerate her presence or consider her a human being. Granted, the Cullpepper household had been different. Lord Cullpepper never demanded that the housemaids turn to face the wall when they met one of the family members in the corridor, and he even knew all their names and how much they earned. Lady Cullpepper was generous with gifts, knowing that it was a way of inspiring loyalty in her staff. In times like these, it was difficult to recruit and retain good servants. In that regard, their household was unusual.
In all other aspects, however, Mira's impression of the Quality had not been good, and that was not only because she cleaned up after them. The majority cared little for those beneath them, only chasing after their own pleasures. They cared only about appearances, exploiting people, taking what they wanted, and squandering exorbitant fortunes on gambling.
"I don't think I can do this," Miss Cullpepper whispered as she looked at the crowd pushing up the stairs.
Mira took her hand and squeezed it. "Yes you can, miss."
"There's not enough air in there and the walls are trying to close in on me." Miss Cullpepper was pale, and her lips trembled. They hadn't been in the opera house for more than a few minutes. Mira's mind raced.
"Close your eyes."
"What?"
Mira grabbed the girl's elbow and brought her head close to her ear. "Close your eyes, miss. And hold on to my arm. Now imagine that you are standing on a cliff, with the sea below you. Are you doing this?"
Miss Cullpepper nodded.
"The sea is so vast that it has no horizon. Can you hear the waves crashing against the rocks?" Mira moved her gently forward.
"Yes. Yes, I think I can."
"The seagulls squawk as they fly and dive into the waves." Slowly, step by step, Mira manoeuvred Miss Cullpepper through the crowded foyer and up the stairs where Lady Randolph was waiting for them in front of the box, tapping her foot and tugging impatiently at her Kashmiri shawl. A huge feather bobbed from her head.
"We've arrived. It is not far to our box, so look down and hold onto the image of the blue sea and concentrate on the music."
Miss Cullpepper's colour had improved.
"Here is Lady Randolph. Open your eyes."
"There you are. What is this dawdling? Here is our box. Sit down, sit down. Miss Cullpepper, you in front, and you in the back." There were two chairs side by side in the first row of the narrow box, and two chairs behind them. Lady Randolph sat in the left one, pointing to the one beside her.
Miss Cullpepper sat down.
Mira sat behind her, looking around in awe.
How splendid it was! The auditorium had four tiers, three with gilded boxes with allegorical figures painted in oil on the front, and the fourth was a gallery with more boxes on each side. The high domed ceiling depicted Apollo and the muses, while the gilt sconces attached next to the balustrade illuminated the entire place.
Lady Randolph raised her lorgnette. "I see everyone is here. Witherington on the right." She nodded to a gentleman in the next box. "Ignore him," she said to Miss Cullpepper. "He's a dandy and makes moon eyes at all the ladies. Not a penny in his pocket. Lady Babington on the left." She nodded to a stout lady sitting in a box beside them. The lady nodded back and continued to fan her face. "All those young bucks strutting around at the back of the gallery. Nothing useful there. Let's see who else is here. Hmm. Mr Remington is a bachelor. Ah. A tulip, but deep in the pocket. The Duchess of Newcastle. A bit out of your league, but if we could get her attention and manage to talk to her, she could introduce you to her nephew, the Viscount Dallington..."
On and on she went. Lady Randolph knew everyone by name, their status, and the size of their fortune. Suddenly she interrupted her monologue and raised her lorgnette.
"Good heavens, Atherton is here! I did not expect to see him so early. I suppose the rumours must be true and he is here for that Catalani woman..." She caught herself and cleared her throat. She began to fan herself. "Forget my words. My point is, he's not an eligiblepartifor you as it is. Far out of your league. He is also a terrible rake. Do not, under any circumstances, look in his direction."
