They sat at a table near the back and enjoyed buttered bread with the cheese Henry had purchased, hot scones laden with jam, an array of cakes, and a freshly brewed pot of fragrant tea.
Oh, how I missed this.Annabel thought as she swallowed her tea.
“I hear it’s a marvelous production,” A voice trilled. “Better, even, thanMuch Ado About Nothing, performed last summer.” Annabel followed the voices to a group of ladies sitting at a table diagonal to theirs.
“Yes, the players have outdone themselves this year.”
Henry leaned forward and said, “Othellois playing at the Theatre Royal on Guildhall Street. Have you seen it?”
“No,” she grinned, recalling he’d wanted to invite her to the theater. “But I hear it is a marvelous production.”
“It’s a tragedy,” Henry said.
“And?”
“And Shakespeare’s tragedies are quite”—he pressed his lips together as if searching for the correct word—“well, they’re quite violent.Othellois particularly disturbing.”
“I’ve seenRomeo and Julietand found it quite moving.”
“This one is a little—” he paused again as if searching for the correct word—“harsher.”
Annabel put down her teacup. “I’ve also seenA Midsummer Night’s Dream, have you?”
“Yes. I thought it quite silly, actually.”
“Well, I thought it quite clever. Take, for instance, the character, Bottom. When he and his laboring friends decide to perform the tragedyPyramus and Thisbefor the King’s wedding festivities, Bottom thinks the women in his audience are too delicate and feeble-minded to tell the difference between a real lion and a man in a mask. He fears they will die of fright and the king will execute all the players, so he proposes that he only cover half his face. It’s so ridiculous that it’s funny. But it’s also sad because it illustrates how simple-minded some men think the female sex.”
“That’s not what I was implying,” Henry straightened his back. “I only wanted to prepare you. The story is quite powerful.”
“Consider me prepared,” she said. “I’m quite ready if you are.”
“Now? You want to go this evening?”
“If you like,” she said, suddenly excited about the prospect.
“Won’t your Mrs. Taylor mind?”
“Why should she mind? She’s my landlady, not my mama.” Annabel laughed to conceal her guilt. Mrs. Taylor would likely need her help with Rupert or want her company as she worked through the evening. While she enjoyed looking after Rupert and helping Mrs. Taylor during the day when customers came into the shop and talked to her, she’d grown tired of spending every evening in a dimly lit room, watching Mrs. Taylor sitting bent over and straining her eyes to sew. The theater would be a treat, but more than that, she didn’t want to part from Henry’s company yet. And why should she? She was her own woman now, who didn’t have to answer to anyone save herself. Another twinge of guilt nudged her insides. She looked at Henry and sighed inwardly.I’ll make it up to Mrs. Taylor tomorrow. But tonight, I’ll attend the theater with a handsome gentleman.
*
“Come one, comeall—the show is about to begin.” A top-hatted gentleman, holding a tin money box, ushered ladies and gentlemen into the modest white building that was the Theatre Royal. “The greatest production of Shakespeare’sOthelloyou are ever likely to see will commence in a few minutes. Be warned, once these doors close, there’ll be no getting inside.”
Annabel and Henry rushed forward.
“Do you still have boxes available?” Henry asked, removing a few shillings from his pocket, and handing them to the gentleman.
“Certainly, sir.” The gentleman accepted the coins, handed Henry two red tickets, and then gave a slight bow. “Enjoy the show.”
They passed through white double doors framed by an arched doorway and entered the foyer, carpeted in red and adorned with a bust of Shakespeare. From there, they climbed the stairs to the upper level. The rowed tiers upstairs were almost full, but they located an empty box with excellent views of the stage and made their way to it. Seconds after sitting down, the gas lights in the theater dimmed, and only the stage remained illuminated.
A short, bearded man in a three-piece suit appeared on stage before the curtain rose and explained that the players were a group of locals who were proud to say that they had been the producers, set designers, and actors of every play since the theater’s opening in 1860. And, lest there be newcomers in the audience, he wanted to remind everyone that Charles Dickens himself had “adorned this very stage” and had given a reading of his renowned novel,David Copperfield.
The audience broke out into raucous applause.
Annabel giggled. It made no difference to her that she sat in a small theater one street away from Mrs. Taylor’s shop or that the players were locals. The last time she’d attended the theater, she’d accompanied her father and stepmother to an opera in London’s Music Hall. Her stepmother had thought it important she be seen attending the theater. And while she’d enjoyed the performance, she’d hated being on display all night, sitting up straight in her box seat under the scrutiny of her stepmother’s watchful gaze. If she’d dared to slouch an inch or express too much emotion, her stepmother had readily corrected her with a hidden pinch to her back.
She shuddered at the memory. But now, sitting next to Henry in this homespun theater seemed to her the most romantic and exciting experience of her life.
