But From Thine Eyes: Scintillating historical drama set in an Edwardian English theatre (His Majesty's Theatre Book 2)

by Britton Conroy, Christina

  Rory sneaked up beside him. “This looks just like tea at Mrs. Potter’s.” Elly giggled over his shoulder and filled her small plate with socially polite, tiny helpings.

  Hearing Isabelle’s sparkling laugh, they turned and stared. “Jerry darling!” She flashed a brilliant smile. Her exquisite purple satin gown was trimmed with velvet and rustled as she walked. She wore an amethyst tiara, matching earrings, bracelets, and a wide choker, drawing attention to her smooth bare shoulders and full breasts. Her electric blue eyes reflected the violet from her gown. “Gentlemen, please do me a kindness.”

  Rory rushed to serve. “Yes, ma’am, anything at all.”

  Isabelle touched his cheek with gloved fingers and he looked like he was going to faint. “Rory dear, my ballroom is occupied by an abundance of ladies.”

  His smile faded. “At your service, Madam.” He downed his glass of champagne and hurried away.

  Isabelle whispered, “Jerry, be a darling. After you’ve had something to eat, dance with some of my poor wallflowers.”

  “Good grief, Isabelle! Are you serious?”

  “Please!” Squeezing his arm, she looked up with pleading eyes, winked at Elly, and swooped away.

  Jeremy helped himself from the buffet table as a young man rushed toward him. “Mr. O’Connell. What a pleasure. I saw The Magistrate. It was just great.” His dark-blue eyes gleamed. “I’m Sam Smelling, freelance journalist, currently on assignment from the New York Dramatic Mirror. My column’s called: Sam Smell, The Man With The Nose For News.”

  Jeremy looked down his nose. “Ah, yes… Smelling, the journalist. Isabelle mentioned meeting you in New York. Something in connection with horse racing, I believe.”

  Sam nodded jovially. “Good memory. I was investigating at one of the tracks.” Suddenly noticing Elly, he shivered comically. “Oh, sorry. Um, I’m Sam Smelling.” She politely shook his hand.

  Jeremy sighed. “Mr. Smelling, allow me to present Elly Fielding, one of my appren…”

  “I’m…” Elly interrupted, then looked caught. Mouth half-opened, she glanced between the two men.

  Still holding her hand, Sam pretended to be deep in thought. “Just take your time. I know you’ll remember who you are.”

  Elly laughed at herself and recited. “I’m Lady Richfield’s cousin, visiting for the holiday.”

  Jeremy smiled to himself. It seemed Isabelle believed Elly really was family.

  “Isabelle’s cousin.” Sam’s easy smile made her relax. Neither tall nor short, he had a comfortable build and was just awfully pleasant. He pushed back his unruly dark hair. “That makes sense. Isabelle’s the most beautiful woman in the world, and you’re the most beautiful girl.” His hair fell back over his eyes, making Elly smile. He laughed with her. “God gave me a great brain, but terrible hair. I think I’m part dog.” They laughed together.

  Jeremy finished his snack and pursed his lips. “Mr. Smelling, has our hostess conscripted you to dance with her surplus female guests?”

  Sam looked surprised. “No, sir.” He smiled sheepishly, “but then, I’m not much of a dancer.”

  “Lucky you. I shall pay my debt to friendship by finding the homeliest woman in the room and giving her one turn around the floor. After that I shall spend the evening as I please.” He bowed and left.

  *

  When Jeremy finally returned, Elly and Sam looked like best friends, deep in conversation. “Are you two still here? I danced with my wallflower and was rewarded by partnering Isabelle and my lovely Katie. Now Simon has swept Katie away somewhere. Rory deserves a medal for all the Plain Janes he has partnered.” He lightly commanded, “Miss Fielding, my next dance will be with you.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She looked pleased, but nervous, as they said goodbye to Sam Smelling, and walked through the crowded foyer. Jeremy glanced out open French windows, into the shadowy garden.

  Simon loped in. “Hello, you two.” He posed melodramatically, raising the back of his hand to his forehead. “Kathy turned me down, once again.”

  Jeremy snorted, fluttering a hand. “If she ever said, ‘Yes,’ all your longing would disappear and your talent with it.”

  Simon pretended he had been socked in the stomach. “Ooh, that’s a good one, Jerry. Points for you.” His head came up under Jeremy’s chin.

  In a flash, Simon had Jeremy’s arm pinned behind his back. Jeremy laughed, shouting, “Uncle!”

  Simon laughed and rolled his eyes. “Jerry, can we go home? I’m not sure I can take any more of this ghastly party. Isabelle made me dance with her odious guests. They’re all ninety-and-half-dead.”

  Jeremy laughed. “You were able to steal Katie away, and just where, pray tell, are you calling home? You obviously cleaned up somewhere.” The dance music soared and faded, catching their attention.

  Simon shook his head. “I was here of course – arrived last night. Didn’t want to bother Kathy. Anyway, she’s rejected me, so my handsome charms didn’t work.”

  “Did you really want them to?”

  He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “What I want doesn’t matter. Kathy always gets what she wants.”

  *

  The last waltz played at 3:00 in the morning. It was another hour before the house was finally quiet. Rory escorted Elly to her room, loosened his tie, and hoped she would loosen her clothing. Almost too tired to move, she sat on the edge of her bed and closed her eyes. He sat beside her and gently pressed his lips against hers. Her eyes flashed open. He quickly slipped both his arms around her corseted waist and covered her face with light kisses. Pleased by the sensations, she smiled and allowed him to move down her cheek and neck. When he reached her exposed cleavage, she sped across the room.

  He silently cursed himself. “Well… Good night.” He stormed out the door.

  Around the corner and down a long, dimly lit corridor, Isabelle spoke with a servant. She turned sharply, “Mr. Cook.”

  He stopped dead, red-faced, and panting.

  She smiled at the servant and kept an eye on Rory. “Thank you, James. Get some sleep.”

  “Good night, Lady Richfield.” He bowed and left.

  Rory and Isabelle were alone. “You seem out of sorts, Mr. Cook.”

  “No, ma’am, it’s just very late. Thank you for a most wonderful evening. Good night.”

  “It appears the evening didn’t end so wonderfully.”

  “Good night.” He bowed and walked away.

  “Rory.”

  He stopped again, took a breath, and turned around.

  She spoke quietly. “You were with Elly. What happened?”

  His breath came hard and fast. “It’s very late.”

  “What - happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  A smile slowly spread across her beautiful face. “I - am - so - sorry.”

  Rory’s blood raged. The blue of her eyes was the same blue as the gaslights and he wanted to smash them all. She opened the door to her boudoir and went inside. He stood in the hall, watching her take down her hair. It fell in impossibly heavy cascades of chestnut, thick and luxurious. She shook it over her naked shoulders and turned to face him. Standing perfectly still, smiling slightly, she drew him in like a magnet. His better judgment told him to run. His worse judgment won out. He went inside and closed the door behind him.

  Chapter 14

  Friday, December 25, 1903

  “Happy Christmas, Daddy!”

  “Hmm? What?” Not sure where he was, head aching from a night of rich food and too much champagne, Jeremy woke from a troubled sleep and rubbed his crusty eyes. Evan stood by the bed. “Oh, Happy Christmas, Evan.”

  Evan bounced into bed, snuggled under the covers, and hugged him hard.

  “So, was Father Christmas good to you?”

  “You and Mummy were good to me.”

  “Whatever do you think we had to do with it?”

  “Oh, come now, Daddy. I’m not still a baby, believing in Father Christmas.”

  Je
remy stroked the boy’s fine blond hair. “No, you’re not a baby anymore. More’s the pity. You were a very nice baby.”

  He sat up demanding, “What am I now then?”

  Jeremy laughed. “You are a most engaging little boy. All too soon you will be a young man and I will be an old man. Don’t blame your father for wanting you to stay little as long as possible.”

  “You’ll never be old.”

  “Who do you think I am then, Merlin? Do you think I youthen, rather than growing old, like everyone else?”

  “I don’t want you to grow old.”

  “Well, darling boy, that makes two of us. Just stay with me. Keep me young.”

  Evan stared up with a creased forehead. “Of course I’ll stay with you. Where would I go?”

  Jeremy put a teasing finger on Evan’s nose. Evan looked at it with crossed eyes and Jeremy scolded, “Don’t do that!” They laughed and held each other tight.

  Evan yawned. “Mummy’s with Uncle Simon. I didn’t know he was coming for Christmas.”

  “None of us knew. It was a surprise.”

  “I like surprises.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Not always.”

  “Are you angry he’s here?”

  He was furious, but didn’t want to show it. “No, certainly not angry. Just… curious.”

  “Don’t you like Uncle Simon anymore?”

  “Of course I like him. He is one of my oldest friends.”

  “Are you angry he’s with Mummy?”

  He hesitated. “I am not pleased.”

  “But you like all Mummy’s friends.”

  “Do I?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Why so many questions?” Frantic to stop his chatter, Jeremy tickled him and pushed him out of bed. “Come along, assistant chef. Let’s see how Max is doing with our goose.”

  Three hours later, Jeremy, Katherine, Evan, Max, and the uninvited guest Simon Camden were enjoying a very merry Christmas. A crackling fire and two-dozen candles made them forget that freezing rain pelted the windows. Jeremy’s goose was a masterpiece. He carved, Max served, and everyone ate. The diamond ring felt heavy in Jeremy’s pocket. How was he going to give it to Katherine with Simon in the room?

  Simon talked nonstop about his American tour. “It was revolting. I’m posed in my most poetic attitude. Juliet says, ‘Ay me!’ I say, ‘She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel!’ And I’m answered by a mule. A mule! HEE-HAW, HEE-HAW. Worst of all, no one in the audience seemed to notice.”

  “You’re lucky.” Katherine’s mouth was full of a drumstick. “If they had, they might have noticed that a forty year old man was trying to play seventeen.”

  Simon pretended to be insulted. “How dare you! I’m a great actor. I can play anything.” He tossed his head and threw a bun at her.

  The bun bounced off her shoulder into her lap. “The critics agreed with me.” She threw it back and he caught it mid-air.

  “London critics, Kathy.” He looked down his nose. “In Ohio, I was a star.”

  She burst out laughing. “Jerry, can you stand the ego?”

  Jeremy smiled slightly. “Your Romeo was brilliant, Simon. The critics were very wrong.”

  “There, you see!” He gleefully pointed to Jeremy. “Here’s a man with taste.” Max started to remove a plate of bones and Simon grabbed his arm. “How about you, Max, did you like my Romeo?”

  Max smiled shyly. “Oh, I did, sir, very much… only…” he leaned to one side, balancing on one foot.

  “Only what?”

  “Well, sir…” his brow wrinkled. “The young lady, sir…”

  “Yes, what about her, didn’t you like her?”

  “Oh yes, sir, she was lovely, just a bit…” he swayed center, landing on two feet, “…young, I thought sir.”

  Katherine doubled over with laughter. “Oh, Max, thank you. Thank you!” She laughed until tears ran down her cheeks.

  Max turned red and Jeremy said, “Leave the dishes, Max. Sit down and eat something. It’s Christmas.”

  Max smiled. “Oh, thank you, sir.” He pulled a chair next to Evan and helped himself from the ample platters of food.

  Simon smiled lovingly. “It should have been you, Kathy.”

  “Oh, right!” She caught her breath and wiped her eyes. “There’s nothing worse than middle-aged actors playing Romeo and Juliet. The critics would have had a party.”

  “I don’t mean in London, you twit.”

  “Where then, in Ohio, with the mules?” She started laughing again.

  Simon enjoyed her teasing. “Yes, and in New York, and Boston, and Washington, and Atlanta. They’re marvelous cities full of fascinating people. I met Sam Smelling in New York.”

  Katherine made a face. “That newspaper chap, with the nose?”

  “Oh, Kathy, you’d still make an enchanting Juliet.”

  Katherine shook her head. “Oh please, Simon. Offer me Lady Capulet, and I’ll jump for it.”

  Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “You’d jump?”

  Simon beamed. “What about Gertrude?”

  “Yes, please!”

  “To my Claudius.”

  She sat up, excited. “Yes!”

  “It’s yours.” He pointed a finger. “Next winter in Delhi.”

  She lurched back. “Delhi, in India?”

  Evan chirped, “Is there a part for me?”

  Absolutely horrified, Jeremy lurched from his chair and carried an empty platter to the kitchen. A moment later, Katherine followed. Jeremy felt weak and tired as he leaned both hands on the cold porcelain sink. When she asked what was wrong, he shook his head, closed his eyes, and said nothing. She quietly demanded, “Please Jerry, you’ve been acting strange all day. What’s happened?” He stared at the dirty platter, and she whispered, “You’re frightening me.”

  Tears filled his eyes. “I’m frightening you?”

  “Dear God.” She took his hand, led him from the kitchen into his dark bedroom, and closed the door. The fire had not been lit. She shivered and turned up a lamp. Jeremy stood by the window, staring vacantly at rain beating against the glass. She joined him and he put his arms around her. He kissed her forehead and felt their hearts beating almost in time.

  He sighed wearily. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” She squeezed him tighter. “You are the most precious thing in my life. You know that, don’t you? You and…” he hesitated, “…our son.” His throat tightened. Tears blurred his sight. Afraid he would start weeping uncontrollably; he pushed her away and crossed to the cold marble hearth. He rested a foot on the grate, and placed a finger over his lips. “I don’t want to say something stupid. Something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”

  Shivering, Katherine sat on the upholstered love seat. “Whatever it is, just say it.”

  He blurted out, “Has Simon asked you to marry him?”

  “Yes.”

  “What have you answered?” His limbs were tight as bow strings.

  “I haven’t answered, actually.” She trilled a nervous laugh. “Can you believe it? After all these years he still wants to make me an honest woman.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t understand him at all. He’s at the height of his career, rich, handsome, still young enough to catch any beautiful heiress in the land, and he wants me.”

  “Of course he wants you.” Jeremy tried to stay calm, but his voice rose with each line. “You are the most generous, tolerant, nurturing woman in England. You are also beautiful, a brilliant actress, and you deserve someone a damn sight better than Simon - Bloody - Camden!”

  Thrown off guard, she straightened up. Her fingers toyed nervously with lace on her skirt. “I’m becoming less generous and tolerant by the moment.”

  Jeremy lightly pounded the marble. “It hasn’t been easy, all these years, watching you waste your time with Eric, write endless letters to Simon, and then that pompous ass, Owen.”

  She glared. “But he was your…�
��

  “I know, I know, I threw you together.” His hands flew up in defense. “I am sorry. But all three men are hopelessly unfit, one way or the other.”

  She sprang to her feet. “And how fit are you then? Are you so much better?”

  He shouted, “Of course I’m better. A hundred times better.” Remembering Simon was nearby; he lowered his voice and sat next to her. “I will be here for you and Evan, every day for the rest of my life. We three need each other, on-stage-and-off. Can you even imagine sharing a life like ours, twenty-four-hours-a-day, with Simon?”

  Startled, she stood and slowly backed away. “Jerry, do you really believe that you have been available twenty-four-hours-a-day? I love you more than anyone else in the world, but I’ve spent fifteen years watching you go to young men. I went to Eric because I couldn’t go to you. I couldn’t leave you either.”

  She turned her back and rubbed her head, breathing hard. “You’re not to blame. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to marry, if I’d really wanted to. You didn’t make me stay… Well, you did in a way -- You’re wonderful. You’re brilliant. My happiest hours are watching you on-stage, and being with you on-stage.

  “When we’re alone,” she smiled, “you understand me totally. You’re loving, accepting, full of humor, no matter what horror I invite upon myself. You’re always there when I need you.” He reached out his hand, but she stayed where she was. “Well, you’re almost always there.”

  “I will be from now on, I promise. I’ll take down those doors between the floors and never invite another man into this house. I want our life to stay as it is. For God’s sake, Katie, please, marry me!”

  “Now you’re raving like King Lear.” She started toward the door, shaking her head. He stepped in front of her, took both her hands, and went down on one knee. She lowered her eyes. “Dear God, no.”

  He gazed up adoringly. “You and the boy are my whole life. Everything I am, everything I ever hope to do or be, depends on you. You are my support, my strength, and my only true love. ‘Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck; And yet methinks I have astronomy,’”