As she was handed in, Lindy noted that it was only Dora and her mother who had come to fetch her.
Do Davis and Mr Hartley ever join them on their ventures?
She settled in and Mrs Hartley began to chatter away. The equipage rumbled off onto the city streets while Belinda listened with half an ear.
“I’m so pleased you’ve come with us,” Dora whispered even as her mother prattled on.
Returning her warm smile, Belinda was struck with a thought.
Would not Dora, as my friend, want to help me in any way she could? Surely, being a young woman herself, she has longings and fears of her own, so if I only explain to her what has happened...
Her parents needn't actuallyemployme. If she would simply agree to say that she hopes they might, that would give me excuse enough to decline Mr Alwyn’s offer.
This thought buoyed her heart all the way to the Strand. There, their carriage was caught in sudden congestion, and after nearly twenty minutes of making no progress forward, Mrs Hartley decided they would disembark and walk the rest of theway. As Belinda hooked her arm firmly through Dora’s, they fell in with the crowd moving towards the theatre.
From the street, the Adelphi appeared rather unassuming. The four sash windows above its entrance had flower boxes, making it look like nothing more than a well-kept house. Only the columned portico hinted that this was a building of more importance than those that flanked it — that, and the mass of humanity who were intent on getting through its front door.
As the three ladies drew near to the entrance, a young girl in a simple dress and thin woolen shawl approached them. Shifting the heavy basket which hung from her arm, she flipped back a cloth to reveal it held a trove of ruby red fruits.
“Apples, miss?” she offered Lindy. “Sweet and crisp, on my honour.”
Pretending to admire the produce, Belinda prolonged the moment, remembering,Before she took to the stage, Aunt Rose sold fruit outside a theatre.
Nell had told her this long ago. Now, seeing a young, female costermonger before her, Lindy felt her eyes grow misty.
From such humble beginnings came the finest woman one could know.
“They look delicious. If I had a penny, it would be yours,” she told the girl who, to her relief, did not look discouraged. Several feet ahead, Mrs Hartley was marching into the theatre, so Belinda followed behind, holding tightly to Dora. The press of people out of doors was nothing to the throng in which the ladies then found themselves.
“This way, girls. Up the stairs.” Mrs Hartley chortled with excitement as she pushed her way through. Steering Doraonward, Belinda was eager to reach the breathing room that the staircase would afford them. But just then, she heard a voice cut through the din, its falsity prickling her all over.
“Why, Miss Belinda Everson!”
Looking up, she drew to a halt, her arm still tucked in the crook of Dora’s. Against the wall, looking like two cats espying a mouse, stood Anne and Clarice Chaffee. Lindy was barely able to keep her countenance as she nodded acknowledgment to them.
Having heard their greeting, Mrs Hartley turned back. She stood by, her cheerful face rosy with exertion, obviously hoping for an introduction to the pair of handsome young women.
They do look elegant tonight,Belinda couldn't help but think, even as they tilted their heads back, determined to stare down their noses at her.
Anne wore a moss-coloured dress, its bertha collar embellished with a wide band of blonde lace. The bodice of Clarice’s pink gown was exquisitely ruched, and the piping on her sleeves matched the colour of the ribbon that cinched her waist. Although Lindy supposed the girls' necklaces and earbobs were merely paste, they complimented their ensembles perfectly.
The sisters were making their own observations of her and her companions, their barely concealed smirks speaking volumes.
Mrs Hartley cleared her throat, prompting Lindy to speak.
“Mrs Ophelia and Miss Dora Hartley, please meet the Misses Chaffee, Anne and Clarice.”
Anne looked Dora up and down for a second time, then stared hard at her eyes as if trying to make her out.
“So pleased to meet you both,” Mrs Hartley gushed, sticking out her gloved hand, but the crowd jostled her roughly from behind. “La! We may well be trampled in this crush! Perhaps we can chat a while during the interval.”
“Perhaps,” Anne replied lightly, her eyes drifting away as if no one was still standing right before her.
“Wonderful!” Mrs Hartley grasped the handrail with one hand, and lifted the hem of her gown with the other to tromp up the stairs. “Come, girls. Our box is up here.”
Lindy saw the Chaffees' faces drop.
"Belinda Everson, in anopera box?" Anne queried in the loudest of murmurs. "Might as well put a goat in a parlour."
