‘Oh, have no fear,’ Phoebe exhaled, with a quiet air of triumph. ‘I have every interest in drawing this matter to a close tonight, and then I would thank you to leave all the Fairfaxes well alone, for as long as you’re in Bath.’
‘With pleasure!’ Aurelia snapped.
* * *
It turned out the Carlisle family box at the Bath Theatre Royal was so close to the stage that, for the first half of the production, Phoebe was unexpectedly spellbound. She’d spent countless happy hours directing Fairfax Theatrical Company, but this was a theatre of dreams, with a lavishly costumed cast, performing one of her favourite Shakespeare comedies,Much Ado About Nothing. It was exactly the type of production in which she’d imagined herself, had she made it to London.
She had to give Aurelia some credit for forethought, too. Their late arrival, combined with the darkness of the auditorium, ensured that no one could identify exactly who was accompanying Lady Aurelia Carlisle. And anyone who did look their way could be assured she was suitably chaperoned. Phoebe stole several glances at her wily adversary during the opening scenes, knowing that despite her newly established upper hand, she should not be underestimated.
‘I think Beatrice a most dull character, don’t you?’ Aurelia whispered as the audience applauded. ‘Teasing poor Benedict when he’s just returned from war. Far better she just secure a husband she doesn’t detest and get on with things. All that witty banter is quite exhausting!’
‘Exhausting or exhilarating? Perhaps it shows they are well matched?’ Phoebe countered.
She knew Aurelia was only describing the strategy she was employing herself, yet there was a wistful note in her voice she hadn’t noticed before.
‘Alwayssucha bluestocking!’ she smirked. ‘Anyway, it’s all just Shakespearean foreplay, neither of them care a jot really!’
Phoebe frowned, certain Aurelia was playing a part herself tonight and wondered if the mood would loosen her tongue.
‘How did yoursituationcome to be?’ she whispered. ‘Did something happen with the captain?’
A smile flickered across Aurelia's face.
‘Now wouldn’t that be something?’ she murmured. ‘The captain is nearly as handsome as the viscount, don't you think? Such fine shoulders, both of them…’
A faded memory of the golden viscount, silhouetted in front of his library fire, crept into Phoebe’s mind. She flushed faintly, as Aurelia leaned forward.
‘But as for his involvement,’ she glinted. ‘In truth, I…’
‘In truth,Iam not sure whether I’m more intrigued by your hushed conversation, or the fact you’re attending the theatre in company your mother has decried,’ a low tone drawled, making them both draw apart sharply.
Phoebe inhaled, as Aurelia spun with the ease of a seasoned actress.
‘Why, Viscount Damerel!’ She smiled coquettishly, fluttering her fan. ‘What a pleasure to see you! I thought you considered Shakespeare’s comediestropennuyeux!’
‘On the contrary,’ the viscount returned, stepping into the small theatre box as Phoebe shrank back and prayed for divine intervention.
‘I find the war of words between Benedict and Beatrice most edifying.“Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps”,’ he murmured with a raised eyebrow.
‘Oh, you are so droll!’ Aurelia tittered, as Phoebe silently berated herself for ever thinking she could go anywhere with Aurelia, without the viscount making an appearance.
‘What say you, Mrs Smith?’ He turned suddenly, his gleam closing down the space between them. ‘I may not approve of Lady Aurelia’s company this evening, but I do approve of her choice of diversion. Is the play to your liking?’
Phoebe stared at the sudden narrowing of his eyes, at the gold flecks glittering within, and felt every scrap of her previous confidence evaporate. And suddenly they weren’t in the theatre at all, but back on the banks of the muddy canal, exchanging furious looks that meant nothing and everything all at once. His hair was dishevelled and he was looking at her as though she was dredged up from the depths of the silt, and yet – there was a fire in his eyes that matched the thump in her chest, word for word, breath for breath.
She swallowed, feeling her tongue leaden, and her head pound. She felt sure he saw right through her,that perhaps he always had; but he’d addressed her as Mrs Smith, and she had no choice but to answer in kind. She clenched her fingers and dug deep.
‘It is – thank you, Viscount,’ she nodded, imitating Harriet’s prim manner as best she could. ‘Though I have to say that few young ladies I know would ever faint in such circumstances. In my experience, gentlemen are rarely without fault, and ladies are far more robust than they look.’
‘Indeed,’ he returned, the muscle in his cheek working overtime, ‘though I believe there is a fine line between the robustness you describe, and behaviour that is unacceptable in our polite world – behaviour such as that you demonstrated when last we met. In truth, I am somewhat surprised that the marchioness saw fit to let you accompany Lady Aurelia this evening. I had thought her sense of propriety far stricter!’
Phoebe felt her cheeks burn as she seethed inwardly, imagining all the ways she would like to remind the viscount that she didn’t care one jot for his opinions or archaic notions of propriety. Instead, she inhaled deeply, and promised herself this would be the very last time he ever had the opportunity to insult her.
‘Perhaps,’ she replied coldly, ‘if gentlemen were able to elevate their marital ambitions beyondbehaviour and reputation, they might discover we are just as curious and capable as they are. But until that time, I suspect ladies will continue to fall into two distinct groups – those they marry, and those they misjudge!’
* * *
Phoebe waited by the backstage door in a state of bleak contemplation. How an unimpressive highwayman, an épée with a mind of its own, a calamitous picnic and a dubious, interfering viscount, could represent the sum total of her Bath adventures to this point – standing at the stage door of the Theatre Royal, asking for a seasoned actress by the name of Carlotta – was most dispiriting.
