“I hardly think it warrants that much applause,” Aunt Frieda murmured to Eliza. She shuddered. “What a terrible set of circumstances with an unsatisfying ending.”
The play told the story of man who was ill-suited to serve as a lawyer with ambition above his station who killed another in the heat of an argument. His daughter and servant helped him to bury the body in the backyard. Yet the family’s fortunes deteriorated after that night in drastic ways.
“It is considered a realistic portrayal that shows how class discrimination and too much ambition can ruin someone’s life.” Eliza continued her applause. “I thought it well done.”
“As did I,” Lady Compton, one of Aunt Frieda’s friends, added. “Not all stories can have happy endings.”
Eliza preferred happy ones but understood why this play, which was based on a book, didn’t. The harsh lessons the story offered wouldn’t be as dramatic or thought-provoking if everything worked out in the end.
Their group rose from Lady Compton’s theater box but stood visiting rather than departing.
“It’s such a crush in the corridors,” their hostess said. “Let us wait a few minutes before we attempt to leave.” She leaned close to Eliza with a smile. “Meanwhile, we can admire the other members of the audience now that the lights are up. That’s part of the fun of attending the theater. Consider it part of your education to have the chance to be able to recognize some of the people you’ll encounter when the Season begins.”
The lady turned toward the rows of seats and boxes that lined the upper levels, and Eliza followed her gaze. “The Marchioness of Marbury is there. Just look at her gown.”
Lady Compton pointed her fan discreetly toward a lady who wore a blue satin gown with rows and rows of ruffles. She must’ve been in her forties and was quite striking. She spoke with two handsome gentlemen on either side of her who vied for her attention.
“Do you suppose one of them is her lover?” The lady smiled at Eliza’s gasp of surprise before she continued to study the people in the other boxes. “Ah, the Duke of Trentworth is here, as well. How interesting.”
Eliza didn’t need to see where she pointed but searched for Philip herself and found him two boxes to the left of the marchioness. As always, he looked striking in his formal evening attire. His aunt and uncle were with him. To her dismay, so were all three of the Graham sisters and their parents. Another couple was with them as well.
Her heart sank as she watched him speak with Lady Charlotte, who smiled in return. A sigh must’ve escaped, for Lady Compton glanced at her and then back at Philip.
“Rumors suggest His Grace might take his brother’s place and propose to Lady Charlotte,” the lady said. “He is a handsome one, is he not? The hint of a cleft in his chin, those blue-grey eyes, his dark hair with that slight wave. Delicious.”
Eliza’s body heated at the reminder of his many attributes. Her longing for him shocked her. Not just because of his physical appeal, but because of who he was as a person. A friend and so much more. She pulled her gaze away with the hope of controlling the ache that filled her. Apparently, the anger she’d felt after their last encounter had eased.
“Who else can we see?” Lady Compton asked before pointing out several other interesting lords and ladies until at last decreeing it was time to depart.
They made their way out of the box and down the stairs, though many still lingered in the corridor, slowing their progress.
“Lady Eliza.”
Eliza’s breath caught at the familiar tone as she turned to see Philip approach. “Your Grace.” She offered a brief curtsy since the crowded area made anything else impossible. “I hope the evening finds you well.”
“It does. And you?” He took in the interested gaze of Lady Compton and dipped his head as she curtsied as well.
“Well, indeed,” Eliza said. “I assume you are acquainted with Lady Compton.”
“Of course.” They exchanged pleasantries as they slowly made their way toward the lobby. “How did you find the play?”
“Interesting. It makes one think, does it not?”
“It does.”
Eliza noted that he matched his pace to hers and her heart soared. “We were debating the preference for a happy ending. Do you have one?”
“I prefer happy ones. The world has enough of the other kind. What of you?”
“I agree.” She smiled. “I rarely choose books that don’t end on a good note.” She couldn’t help but glance at her aunt who walked just ahead of them with the others in their party. “Though Aunt Frieda wished for a happier conclusion to the play, I understand why it wasn’t possible.”
“Why wasn’t it?” He looked at her as if truly interested in her answer, which only made her heart soar more.
Soar? Oh dear. The realization caught her breath. She halted the direction of her thoughts. Now was not the time for revelations.
“If all ended well, the audience would’ve been able to brush away the difficulties the play presented. By ending it as they did, we are forced to consider each character’s actions and the effect they had on their own lives and the lives of those they loved.”
“Excellent point, and one I hadn’t considered.” His eyes glinted with admiration. “That is quite insightful of you.”
