“Nothing is the matter.”
Her aunt squinted her eyes.
“I do not believe you.”
Grace sighed.
“I suppose I’m just a little uncomfortable,” she said as a footman helped her with her mantle. “It seems a frivolous activity, going to the opera, when I could be studying.”
“Too much studying will do more harm than good, my dear,” Aunt Belle said with the tapping of her cane on the wooden floor beneath. “Besides, it will do your mind some good to relax and interact with someone other than that dreadful Dr. Hall.”
Grace frowned, unsure what her aunt meant by that as all three women exited the house and were helped into the carriage. As the crack of the whip sounded, Grace leaned forward to speak.
“What do you mean by calling Dr. Hall dreadful?”
Aunt Belle’s brow lifted.
“My dear, didn’t you tell me that he has you washing utensils and answering his every beck and call? Surely you find it tiresome?”
Grace shrugged.
“It can be, but I enjoy it.”
“I do not see how. Particularly when you can be doing a number of other things. It makes me worry about you.”
“You needn’t, really. I’m quite sure, more now than before, that this is what I wish to do with my life.”
Aunt Belle bobbed her head, seemingly placated as Arabella chimed in.
“Yes, but it must be grating on your nerves, to have to do everything he says.” She grimaced. “I don’t know what I would do if I was forced to clean an open wound.”
Grace smiled.
“Then it is a good thing I can do so without batting an eye.”
“But is it not tedious? Being constantly working, particularly with the same person day in and day out?”
“No,” she said softly. “Not at all.”
It was actually terribly inconvenient, particularly now that she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there was some sort of feeling between them, but then her rational side was very much convinced that it was one-sided. Dr. Hall wasn’t interested in her and she had made it a point to appear just as unaffected, however difficult that was coming to be. Whenever she was close to him, which of course was daily, she tried to be indifferent. If he asked her to perform a task, such as getting him more bandages to dress an injury, or to stabilize a child so that he might set a dislocated joint, she would do so without question and if she did have a question, she was sure to ask it in the most even tone, so that he couldn’t guess at her mood one way or the other.
To be honest, tonight’s opera would be the first time in over a week that Grace would be able to relax and realizing that, she leaned back against the plush bench cushions. She intended to enjoy her evening, despite the hollow feeling she felt in her heart.
Upon arrival to the Theatre Royal Dunlap Street, Grace was amazed to see that an honest to goodness crowd was gathered beneath the tall marble pillars that led into the opera house. Not since London had she attended such a social event and while she had always known that cities existed outside of London, to see and be a part of it elsewhere was rather jarring.
“I know,” Aunt Belle said, leaning toward her after they exited the carriage. “It’s funny the first time outside of London.”
Grace turned to her.
“Am I that obvious?”
“Well, when one grows up in London society, it’s practically indoctrinated that it’s the center of the world and everything that happens outside of it is woefully unfashionable, but,” she said, glancing around as her eyes twinkled. “It is a marvelous thing to be a part of society, wherever one is.”
Grace nodded slowly as they were shepherded in through the front doors into a massive entrance hall. The walls were painted gold and appeared to glow beneath the shining light of three massive chandeliers that hung above them. Once again, Grace was taken aback by the sheer decadence of it all, having long believed London to be the epicenter of culture.
With her head bent backwards, she didn’t have time to see the man who spoke suddenly next to her.
“If the lady appreciates chandeliers this much, I should order a dozen for my new theater.”
