12. Chapter Twelve #2
Eugene handed the booth attendant the tickets as Margaret observed the black and white photographs of the actors displayed above and the posters advertising upcoming shows.
She smiled, and Eugene took her hand, guiding her inside the auditorium.
The interior stretched wide, with seats filling every corner.
The room was dimly lit, but a distant spotlight cast a soft glow.
Just as Eugene had heroically hidden Margaret away from her suitors at the ball, he guided her up a staircase.
When they reached the top, they stepped onto a balcony, overlooking the grandeur of the auditorium below.
Rows of seats that sat along the checkered floor facing the red velvet curtain covering the stage.
Margaret gasped at the sight. “Eugene, this is wonderful.”
“I figured you would want to watch the show from this height.”
When they were seated, Eugene handed her the program that stated the show and listed the actors' names.
“Doctor Faustus? I don’t believe I heard of this play. Is it Shakespeare?”
Eugene chuckled. “Excellent guess, but no. The playwright is who they call Shakespeare’s literary twin, Christopher Marlowe.”
“Oh. I’m afraid I haven’t heard of him either.”
“He is best known for his poetry. Have you ever heard his pastoral poem, ‘The Passionate Shepherd to His Love’?”
“No, I have not. What is it about?”
“Well,” Eugene began, crossing his right calf over his left thigh.
“Pastoral poetry focuses on the simplicities of life and romantic nature. The poem is about a shepherd who is convincing his love to remain with him in the pastures and says their love will last forever alongside nature’s fleeting beauty. ”
“That sounds lovely.”
“It makes me think of you.”
Margaret’s heart skipped a beat. “Why so?”
“Because,” Eugene said in a soft voice, “when I look for true beauty, I see it in you. You see the beauty in all things no matter how big or small they are. With you, I experience them, too.”
Margaret’s pulse quickened with each word.
Eugene knew how to capture her affections, but Daddy’s words still stuck with her.
Could her vulnerability cloud her judgment?
Most likely so, but in a different situation.
She trusted Eugene now. Yes, he hadn’t been honest on their first night, but something about him reassured her that she would be safe with him.
He was more than just a marquess; he was a normal human being, and she could see him past the title he bestowed.
“You flatter me.”
“Is that all right?” Eugene asked. He placed his hand over hers.
Margaret’s fingers grew numb at his touch and her breath stilled. “Yes.”
The lights grew dim and soft, ominous music played from the orchestra below.
Margaret’s heart nearly dropped with the dimming lights, but with the spotlight, she could still make out Eugene’s face.
She breathed in deeply then exhaled. It’s not too dark.
You will be fine. Stop thinking of the past and focus on the present.
“What is Doctor Faustus about?” Margaret asked in a whispering tone.
Eugene leaned closer. “It is about a man, Doctor Faustus, who sells his soul to the Devil for knowledge of worldly pleasures.”
Margaret’s eyes widened. “Oh?”
“It is gripping and terrifying with also a good message about overcoming temptation.”
“Terrifying?” Margaret repeated. “Selling one’s soul to the Devil is quite unthinkable. One’s life without God chills me to the bone.”
Eugene chuckled softly. “It would be so.”
An actor appeared on the stage and gave his opening statement. Eugene whispered again. “Rumor has it that the play is cursed. There is an evil spirit that appears when the play is performed and turns out the lights midway.”
A chill rolled down Margaret’s spine. Darkness. Curse. Those were two words she wanted to avoid. The room grew hot, so she fanned herself with the program to calm herself.
“But don’t worry,” Eugene said, squeezing her hand. “I’ll protect you.”
Margaret let out a nervous giggle. “What am I? The damsel in distress?”
“Would you like to be?”
Margaret was momentarily lost in the shadowed depths of Eugene’s eyes. They were a foreign kingdom she longed to explore. “I’m an independent career woman. I do not need saving.”
Eugene chuckled. “True, true.”
However, it wasn’t all true. Hours ago, she almost lost her life.
One thing Margaret knew for certain was that she told a lie.
If she were to continue her duty to find a suitable husband, she had to find one she could feel safe with, and so far, Eugene was a haven.
He hadn’t done anything to make her uncomfortable.
Extremely talented actors took the stage and performed a wondrous show. Doctor Faustus, especially, displayed both seriousness and humor, a masterful combination that made Margaret abandon her opinions about the demonic elements.
As Margaret stifled a yawn, the world around her disappeared as the lights went out.
Screams echoed through the auditorium. Oh, no.
Margaret’s chest tightened. Darkness surrounded her, consuming her completely.
Her heart began to pound, and she opened her mouth to take a breath, but her lungs constricted.
Then Eugene’s strong, muscular arms wrapped around her waist, bringing her closer to him.
The commotion in the room escalated, with people stumbling and screams echoing all around.
Margaret wanted to close her eyes and disappear, but it would give her no comfort.
The darkness was consuming her as it had many years ago.
Flashbacks filled her head. The sound of glass breaking, the smell of smoke and gasoline, her friends screaming, the eyes of a lifeless body staring back at her, his eyes not blinking.
It was only a matter of seconds before the world went black, consuming her vision.
All was darkness. For two weeks, that was all she saw, and she never wanted to visit it again.
She took slow, steady breaths, burying her face in Eugene’s chest. His heart beat at a steady pace, reminding her everything would be all right.
“Margaret, I’m here. The lights will be on momentarily,” Eugene whispered in her ear.
Her limbs still quivered. Perhaps it wasn’t an exaggeration when Eugene mentioned the play was cursed.
The lights turned on one by one, giving the theater light again.
The actors returned to the stage and bowed.
The screams then turned to laughter and cheering.
It was an amazement of how fast the energy of the room changed.
Margaret pulled away from Eugene’s chest, her face flushing. She was happy no one was around them, and their elevated position kept them hidden from ones below. How improper Eugene must think her to be now. First the kiss and now an intimate embrace?
“So, the play is cursed,” Margaret said, trying to distract herself from what she had done.
“I told you so,” Eugene said with a wink.
After being in his arms again, she realized that something about Eugene drew her to him even more than before. Perhaps Margaret’s imagination was running wild, and Daddy was right about her vulnerability, but she didn’t feel that way.
The way home was dark, but Eugene’s automobile lights were surprisingly brighter than her father’s.
The ride wasn’t too unbearable compared to the suffering darkness that took place during the cursed play, but still, it caused her to break out in a cold sweat and her gut to tighten.
Margaret looked down at her lap, trying to think happy thoughts that brought her comfort—meadows, flowers, mountains, a babbling brook.
But she couldn’t focus. She imagined what Eugene might think of her with her peculiar ways.
She hadn’t made eye contact with him once nor engaged in conversation since the lights came on.
It had been an eventful day—one fear after the other—but both outcomes were relieving. She’d been comforted in the darkness and saved from an automobile accident. If only five years ago had gone the same way. However, no one had been there to save her.
Eugene parked in front of the estate and opened the vehicle door for Margaret. She stepped out, giving him a soft smile.
“I had a lovely time.”
Eugene walked beside her up the front steps of the home. “It delights me that you have.”
They paused at the doorstep, and Eugene removed his hat.
He stared into Margaret’s eyes for a moment then looked at the ground.
Something about him in this moment humanized him.
Margaret had built him up as perfection in her mind since the night at the ball, and now, there the dashing man was—his cheeks flushed with a delicate shade of pink, betraying the confident fa?ade he often wore, and his hands, usually steady and sure, now trembled ever so slightly.
“Margaret, I dearly hope you won’t be offended if I kiss you again.”
Her cheeks burned as her heart leaped. “Are all men from England as bold as you?”
Eugene’s discomfort was palpable as he scratched the back of his neck, his fingers fidgeting nervously against his skin. “Would it discourage you if I said you drive me so mad that it makes me say things that I wouldn’t dream of?”
Margaret giggled. “I dearly hope you aren’t discouraged by me.”
Eugene took her hands in his and kissed both knuckles. “You could never discourage me.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her closer. Margaret closed her eyes and her pulse quickened, imagining his lips on hers again, but the fantasy faded when she felt his warm lips against her cheek. She opened her eyes and watched as Eugene placed his hat back on his head.
“I must take my leave. Goodnight, Miss Nicholson.”
“Goodnight, Lord Burton.”
And he was off again. Margaret waved as his vehicle drove away. She sighed, leaning against the door. It had been a magical night, one she’d never forget.