“She seemed to think Kynaston and I were obliged to marry. And that it would be a desirable outcome.”
“Many women think any marriage better than none.”
“Then they’re wrong.”
“I agree. Are you enjoying the play?”
It was a conventional conversational gambit, but Ariana was grateful for it. She must continue to act carefree. “I’m having a little difficulty keeping the characters straight, especially the hero, who changes costumes and even sex quite frequently.”
He chuckled. “It is a demanding part.”
“I’m enjoying the maid. The way the actress expresses her feelings and her saucy meanings with her body,and her lovely singing voice. Her white hair is a somewhat strange device, however, for a fairly young woman.”
“Mrs. Hardcastle went white at an early age, and has made it her special feature, rather than disguising it with dyes or wigs.”
“I admire her for that,” Ariana said, but couldn’t help thinking that nothing could disguise her height. The warning bell sounded and Major Beaumont left the box.
Lady Cawle seemed able to follow all the conversations around, for as everyone began to settle for the next act, she said to Ariana, “Beaumont’s my godson. He’s married to Mrs. Hardcastle. Quite enchanting, isn’t she?”
“Extremely,” Ariana said, reviewing the conversation for fear she’d said something less than glowing. Apart from the comment on the actress’s white hair, she hadn’t.
“She makes a quite magical Titania,” Lady Cawle said.
“I’m sure she must.”
As the curtain rose and Cicely began a new song, Ariana considered the Dowager Countess of Cawle’s acceptance of her godson’s lowly bride. His marriage to an actress would have been a scandal, and Ariana doubted the highest sticklers in society accepted the major’s wife, yet Lady Cawle didn’t seem to mind.
What was the world coming to? Perhaps she should read more gossip and understand it all better.
When they went to supper later, she found the answer to her question about society’s acceptance. Beaumont and his wife joined them without any apparent awkwardness. Mrs. Beaumont—as she was offstage—was as lovely and charming as she’d seemed, and completely at ease, even among the highest of society.
And they were among the highest of society. LadyCawle did nothing by halves. The Lievens were present, and the Hungarian ambassador, Count Esterhazy, and his wife. The Duke and Duchess of Leeds and the Earl and Countess of Warwick sat at the table, and even the prime minister, Lord Liverpool, had accepted the invitation, along with his wife. He was seated at Lady Cawle’s right hand. Everyone seemed at ease with the actress and they all politely ignored the scandal.
Until Lady Cawle raised the subject. “Liverpool, don’t you think the government should ban scandal sheets?”
He looked resigned. “I might, dear lady, if anyone could distinguish between them and the valid purveyors of information.”
“In days past, no one would dare to print lies about members of the nobility.”
Kynaston said, “But we live in more enlightened times, Aunt.”
“That is a matter of opinion. You want to give everyone the vote, even the penniless.”
Ariana glanced at him in surprise. He was for reform? She didn’t need more virtues to put against his vices.
“A vote for everyone of modest property,” he amended.
“Even women?” asked Mrs. Beaumont from across the table, eyes twinkling.
Kynaston laughed. “In due course.”
Ariana hadn’t seen him laugh for eight years and she found it magical—but it was at the teasing of a charming lady of normal size.
Lady Cawle gave a very disapproving humph, but Kynaston turned to her. “You don’t think your opinion of value, Aunt, when it comes to who governs our country?”
Ariana had an impression that everyone held their breath, but did some of the other women feel the same as she did, that he was making an excellent point?
“Women over fifty, then,” Lady Cawle said. “Not young flibbertigibbets.”
