I feel like smashing something.
“Come on, people, get moving!” Liam calls. “We’re almost there.”
We cross Russell Square, my favorite garden square in London.
Liam waves his arm around, “These gardens were redesigned twenty years ago, exactly two centuries after the square was built. The architects reproduced the original paths, reintroduced the original trees, rerailed and re-gated—and voilà! It’s more Regency-like now than a hundred years ago.”
Five minutes later, we’re at Brunswick Square.
“InEmma,” Liam informs us, “the title character’s married sister Isabella lives here with her husband and children. Isabella argues that her part of London is not at all ‘sickly’ but rather ‘so very airy.’”
“Which house should I be looking at?” Anand asks. “Does Jane Austen give us a number?”
“Unfortunately, she doesn’t,” Sandra replies. “But even if she had, it’s likely that it would have been demolished by now. Most of the original houses have since been razed and replaced.”
Liam turns to Margot. “Your illustrious ances—”
He shuts his mouth and grimaces in apology as Margot’s eyes widen with horror. The few who noticed, shift curious looks from Margot to Liam, and back to Margot. Her cheeks are no longer pink. They’re red.
Whatever ancestor Liam was about to mention, it’s clear that Margot had asked him not to.
I turn to Liam and clap my hands together. “OK, chief, where to from here?”
“Already?” Hyacinth pouts. “We just got here! And Liam was about to tell us more.”
“Let’s face it,” I say. “We don’t have a street number. The square was rebuilt. Our first stop was underwhelming.”
“I promise our next stop won’t disappoint!” Liam puts a hand to his heart. “It’s Theatre Royal Drury Lane!”
We head down Southampton Row to the famous West End theater. Liam points out various landmarks along the way. Twenty minutes later, we’ve reached Drury Lane.
This theater is one of my favorites in London. I’ll never tire of how its unfussy, boxy exterior of white stuccoed brick primes me for more dullness, only to be bedazzled by the opulence of its red velvet and gold interior when I step inside. As for its domed central hall with two grand staircases swooping up like in an opera house, it’s downright majestic.
I’ve seen a few musicals here. Its current owner Andrew Lloyd Webber recently spent millions to restore it. The part that Liam talks about is that the theater’s rotunda, staircases, and salons are now closer to their original Regency design.
Way to go, Andrew!
“You’re looking at London’s oldest continuous theater site,” Liam further enlightens us. “This building is the fourth iteration of the original one that burned down. Jane Austen must have seen the third reincarnation before it burned down, too. And we know she visited this one after it opened in 1812.”
“Was she a theater buff?” Melody asks.
“What play did she see here?” Tami inquires.
“She adored theater,” Sandra says. “When she was in London, she saw as many shows as she could.”
“Here at Drury Lane,” Liam adds, “she saw one of the greatest actors of the time Edmund Kean perform as Shylock inThe Merchant of Venice.”
With the pics and selfies done, we promenade down the bustling Coventry Street and then Piccadilly Circus to our final stop, Grosvenor Street in Mayfair.
Liam stops in front of a random building.
He singles out Phil and Sarika who play Mr. and Mrs. Hurst. “Your characters have a house on this street.”
Tonya who plays Jane Bennet points at Margot. “This is where I visit our mean girl Caroline,”—she shifts her finger an inch to Peter standing on Margot’s right—“hoping to see you, my beloved Charles!”
He’s always next to Margot like a leech.
Then it hits me—I’m jealous.
