As Lindy sat, Dora reached to touch her hand, her poorly focused eyes brimming with concern.
The orchestra sounded a few notes, indicating the play would resume momentarily. Below in the stalls, people headed towards their seats.
Leaning over, Dora whispered, “I did not mean to listen in, but I could not wander far from the door, you know, and my ears are much better than my eyes. Belinda, I believe he genuinely loves you. Why did you argue when he professed it?”
A lump rose in Lindy’s throat.Fear fueled my tongue.
And now I’m left with nothing.
Is it too late? Oh, where has he gone?Standing to her feet, she scanned the playhouse fervidly.I must go after him!
She went out of the door as Mrs Hartley cried after her, “Where are you going, Belinda? The interval has ended!”
Lindy flew down the hall and stairs to where the Chaffees had stood, taunting her. Only a few stragglers were there now, and Mr Alwyn was not amongst them.
He must have left!
Intending to run out into the night, she hurried towards the theatre’s entrance, but then a voice rang out from the depths of the Adelphi behind her.
“May I have your attention, please?”
She stopped, knowing it at once. Stepping lightly across the vestibule, she peered into the auditorium. There, on the stage, Mr Alwyn stood, squinting into the bright lights, his shoulders square, his stance tall.
“Quiet down!” a man hollered. “The doctor wants to say something!”
“Youthinkhe’s a doctor!” laughed someone else. “But here’s a quid he’ll swallow a sword, or twist himself up to fit into that bag of his!”
“Your attention, please — I must say something and I want all of you to hear it!” Mr Alwyn put his satchel down beside him, and a shushing susurration rippled through the opera boxes, dress circle and stalls. Even the musicians stopped the tentative playing of their instruments.
One of the strongmen who had pretended to hassle the juggler appeared at the base of the stage, looking as if he intended to mount it and escort the interloper away.
Undaunted, Mr Alwyn looked directly at the man and said, “I must tell this story, or all love may be lost to me.”
Though the fellow twitched with impatience, he made no move to close the gap between them.
Taking a deep breath, Mr Alwyn opened his mouth and began in a loud, clear voice, “When I was but fifteen and up at school, a fellow called James invited me to go home with him for a week-long house party. Upon our arrival there, I saw a glut of carriages in the yard and wondered how many other guests had come. When I was barely off of my horse, James grasped my arm and steered me towards a group of strangers in the garden. He introduced me, telling them quite loudly that I was the heir of a viscount.”
A sharp bark of laughter rose from the balcony, followed by a collection of titters and chuckles elsewhere.
“You do not believe it? That is fine. The people theredid. And so it went for the rest of the day, myfriendtrotting me out like a new hunter from Tattersall’s to be ogled and fawned over. The worst were the young ladies and their mammas. Anything I said – clever or not – was met with peals of laughter as if I were the wittiest creature they’d yet encountered. As we sat down to dinner that evening, I was sorely tempted to shout down the table, ‘I am only me!’ hoping they would all see the sense in it and treat me as such.
“The next morning, when the others were at breakfast, I hid myself away in the library, but a swarm of girls found me, and coaxed me outside for a game of pall mall. It was there, as my athleticism was being unduly praised, that I was surprised to see my father’s steward striding across the lawn towards me. My relief at his appearance was short-lived as he said he’d come to fetch me home. Illness had struck my family.”
There was no laughter from the audience now, and Belinda felt her eyes prickle with tears.
“In spite of overhearing why I was to leave, James showed little concern for my family. His parents, when told, also urged me to stay. I knew then that I owed no respect to what is called ‘polite society’, and so I withdrew from it, for many years.
“Then, months ago, I met a young woman. She is a great beauty, who is kind, capable and intelligent, and it quickly became my greatest hope that she would consent to be my wife.”
“You mean yourviscountess!” Someone shouted and others laughed at the correction.
“Yes, that is right,” Mr Alwyn replied, seriously. “But circumstances kept me from telling her of my hopes until just moments ago.”
He paused.
“And?” a woman cried out. “How did she answer you?”
“She said that Society would disdain us because her father is not a gentleman. Therefore, I stand here, upon this stage, wanting to make something very clear to everyone present.”
