Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
‘Is this how you feel on a first night?’ whispered Jacob, as he waited in the wings with Dora. His stomach was churning and he simultaneously felt hot and cold, his body confused as to whether it wanted to fly away or stay and fight.
‘Oh, no, that’s much worse,’ she told him. ‘This is a picnic in the park – a few songs, no complicated scenery changes, same costume throughout.’
The dining room had been turned into a concert hall, Henry’s study sacrificed as the Green Room.
Through the crack in the doorway they could see that the audience was gathering, excited by an unexpected invitation in the doldrums of the summer in London.
Professional gentlemen outnumbered the gentry, comprising of the civil servants, merchants and stockbrokers who could not afford to take months off to visit estates outside the capital, but it was a respectable gathering nonetheless, nothing that betrayed the hastiness of the organisation.
Thornbury was there with what looked like his superior, the First Senior Clerk to the minister.
The latter had a wild head of brown hair as if he had stolen all that was lacking from the bald pate of his underling.
Slightly stooped, with glasses perched on the end of his nose, he was peering at the list of songs Eliza and Jane Austen had painstakingly copied out, there being no time to involve a printer.
Ben Knighton was there too, thrilled to have scored an invitation to an exclusive event.
When Countess Vorontsov entered, leaning heavily on the arm of Miss Petrovna, Thornbury ushered her to a seat in the front row.
From the serious expression on his face, Jacob guessed he was commiserating with the lady on the injury her husband had sustained two nights before.
In the row behind her, Jacob spotted the blond-headed Swedish envoy – he looked annoyed by the delay before the auction, tapping his programme restlessly on his knee – and the sour-faced Prussian, who sat like he was on horseback, his spine not touching the seat.
Jacob could feel Dora’s breath on his cheek. He turned and snatched a quick kiss. It reminded him of the first time he had been close to her, in a stable in an innyard in Kendal. Long before he fell in love with her, he had been keenly aware of her presence as a woman.
She kissed him back. ‘Everyone here that you wanted?’
‘Except the French. We must have them here for this to work.’
‘It is possible Percy will send someone to bid in his stead.’
‘True. We will only know when we retire for the private auction.’
‘Have you agreed with Henry how that will go?’
‘I have. They’ve been told to bring sealed bids and there will only be one round of bidding.
The comte’s report goes to the highest bidder, no matter the identity.
Henry is making out he is bound by the terms of the will.
Percy will see this as an opportunity to snatch it from his enemies.
He’s going to wedge himself in somehow, but I’m not certain in what manner. ’
‘Then they have to make their best bid from the outset and not hold anything back?’
‘Yes, it isn’t really about the money, though that is an interesting sideshow to the evening.’
‘What is it about then?’
‘The bidding process is about accommodating Count Vorontsov who would have been here otherwise. He has sent his wife with his bid, and one cannot imagine her managing anything as complicated as deciding whether to up her bid or not.’
‘Miss Petrovna could.’
‘She could, but he has decided he doesn’t trust her.’
‘Wise man.’
Henry came to the front of the room and greeted his guests.
His sister took her place at the piano as she was accompanying the first few numbers.
On Mrs Austen’s prodding, she had volunteered that she was competent enough to play for the comic songs but would surrender her place to a true professional when they reached the more operatic part of the evening.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for accepting our invitation for this evening of music from the stage. I’m sure you will share with my wife and me the thought that August can be a month that is devoid of private entertainments, whereas, in the autumn, you will be showered with invitations.
We decided, therefore, to bring our favourite people together’—he smiled expansively at the company before him—‘and share with them some of our favourite songs. I’m thrilled to say some of the Theatre Royal’s most experienced performers were available, as well as some new talent recently arrived from the northern circuit, so you will be delighted, we hope, by this blend of the novel and the familiar.
But that is enough from me. Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to be comically entertained by Hugo Ingles and Goliath Renfrew! ’
Hugo and Ren entered from opposite sides and bowed to the company. There was a ripple of laughter at the name for the little man. No wonder Ren had dropped it for his nickname. That joke must have worn thin years ago.
They embarked on an easy bantering conversation, casting themselves as two London gents hitting the town’s most popular places, using their little story as a cue for their song.
Jacob waited long enough to find that his employees could indeed carry off a merry caper or two, before retreating from the doorway.
Dora was putting the finishing touches to her appearance, fastening pearl earrings and a necklace borrowed from Eliza. She met his eyes in the mirror.
‘O ye of little faith!’
He smiled wryly. ‘I know, I know. This isn’t my area.’
She settled the pendant just above her cleavage where it would drive the red-blooded men in the audience wild with desire – or him at least. ‘If Hugo and Ren barged into your hospital and demanded to operate on a patient, I would understand your hesitation; but all of us have been doing this for years.’
‘Some of us longer than others,’ quipped Susan, darkening her eyebrows with a charcoal pencil.
Jacob stood behind Dora and ran his finger down the chain, pleased to see she shivered at the ghost of a touch. ‘You look beautiful.’
‘Why, thank you, kind sir.’ She put her hand over his. ‘Do not fret about the concert, Jacob. Worry about your plan for the auction. There’s much that can go wrong with that.’
He gave her a chiding look. ‘Was that supposed to be calming? I now feel ten times worse.’
Ruby glided over, peerless in scarlet. If she was going to be called a Jezebel for being pregnant outside of wedlock, she was going to embrace that reputation without shame.
Many actresses had trodden this path before her, the famous Mrs Jordan for one, who had a clutch of children with Prince William.
‘Good evening, Dr Sandys. Thank you for the names of the accoucheurs.’
He dipped his chin to her. He had been avoiding her all afternoon, but he couldn’t duck out of a polite conversation now. ‘Miss Plum. Are you well?’
‘I am.’
‘Thank you for joining us at short notice.’
She nodded regally to that pleasantry. ‘It was the least I could do for my dearest friend.’
Was he the only one hearing her twist the knife in Dora’s gentle soul, reminding her not to betray her friend by seeking her own happiness? He could feel Dora watching them in the mirror, her expression guarded.
‘I hope you get the reward of enjoying the performance.’
‘I hope you do too. You must go out there and watch, not skulk behind the scenes making us all nervous. We have got this under control.’
Dora grinned, tapping him on the leg. ‘I agree with Ruby. Try to enjoy it – and keep an eye out for the French.’
Having been given his marching orders, Jacob used the servants’ corridor to enter at the back of the dining room.
All heads were turned to the stage where Ren and Hugo were completing their act.
The Londoners were roaring with belly laughs while the foreigners looked bemused by some of the local references that sailed over their heads.
There was one lady who sat pinch-faced. Was she Percy’s representative?
She had the strong profile that he associated with Gallic beauties.
After enthusiastic applause, the mood changed as Miss Austen surrendered her place at the piano to Julien.
He accompanied Susan in her sweet Shakespearian ballad, then played expertly a sonata by Mozart, a clever piece that ran up and down the keys like the pitter-patter of a rainstorm.
Once he had finished, Dora entered and stood beside him.
With a look between them, Julien gave her the note for ‘Oh, the broom’. Then she started singing.
Dear God! He had not known her voice was sublime.
He had heard her sing going about the house, or humming, but she had never performed for him.
Why had he not asked? She must have thought him severely lacking in interest in her accomplishments.
It was a simple Scottish air that suited her voice, a mezzo-soprano.
He thought her daring to sing unaccompanied like this after the flourishes of Mozart, but it suited the words.
As Jacob listened, he realised that it was about a shepherdess taken out of her own country by a bonnie laird, pining for the flowering broom she’d left behind on the hillside.
Was it a message to him? Dora had never been a shepherdess of course, perish the thought, but he had taken her away from her people, the performers who lived simple but rich lives acting on stages across the north country.
He’d thrown her into a world of viscounts and diplomats with enemies around every corner, a place where his own family did not accept her.
He swallowed. She was so at home with her fellow performers and he would never be the kind of man who could get up on stage and sing a song, or play out a scene.
Would she tire of his more restrained ways and long for the alchemical reaction of a stage play and public applause that produced a golden moment for her?
Would he have to let her go back to that?
Michel Percy arrived at his side, a handkerchief flourished in his hand as he dabbed his eyes with false sensibility. His eyes glittered with fiery resolution, belying the Man of Feeling act. ‘Very affecting. I did not realise Miss Dora could sing so well.’
Neither had Jacob, but he wasn’t going to admit that to the enemy. ‘She is talented in many areas.’ He joined in the applause. Dora’s eyes met his then slid to his side. Yes, he took the bait, my darling, thought Jacob.
‘I always thought her a skilful woman. As I’m sure you are enjoying, frequently.’
The double entendre was there to be acknowledged but it went against his plans if he planted a facer on the man’s nose so early in the evening. Later maybe.
‘I didn’t know you were invited,’ Jacob said instead, thinking he deserved a medal for his restraint.
‘My invitation must have got lost in the postbag,’ said Percy. ‘I understood all diplomatic representatives were summoned.’
‘So like Perrault’s aged fairy you come to cast your curse on Sleeping Beauty’s christening?’ said Jacob.
‘You read fairytales? How surprisingly whimsical. You always struck me as a practical man.’ Percy tucked his handkerchief away. ‘You aren’t going to have me thrown out of this christening then?’
‘I am not the host,’ said Jacob.
‘Then I had better go and charm Mrs Austen. She looks like a lady who will enjoy a little French gallantry. She must miss her first husband, being married to a plain old Englishman.’
‘Not so plain, not so old,’ said Jacob, but he let Percy go off to discover that himself.
Jacob’s emotions settled as the harpist played.
He might be reading too much into Dora’s choice of song.
It could be as simple as it being the one she could perform best in this setting.
Though Ruby had edged him out of the dressing room with Dora’s agreement, that was not the same as evicting him from her life.
Catching his train of thought, he realised he was far less secure in his relationship than he had thought. Did he want to be married because he was grasping after a sense of security rather than because it was what was best for Dora?
Now was not the time to second guess his course of action. His offer of marriage was public. Until she broke off with him, that was the direction in which he intended to travel.
Ruby arrived on stage with the sweeping arm of the opera diva.
He hoped Dora did not over-estimate her friend’s skills or this was going to be embarrassing.
He doubted very much Ruby could speak Italian but the song she had chosen was in that language.
He joined in the polite applause for her entrance.
With a gracious smile at Julien, she began.
What a relief. She could sing. Personally, he preferred Dora’s artless voice with its soaring tones, but someone had taken the trouble to train Ruby in the operatic style.
It might not fill a Covent Garden or the Haymarket, but it would do for a small room like this.
Her delivery was polished and disarming.
He could tell the audience were loving her.
The choice of song, ‘In uomini, in soldati’ was mischievous and apposite.
Despina asks if in men, in soldiers, women hope for loyalty.
It ends with the phrase ‘Amiam per comodo, Per vanità!’, or ‘Let’s love for convenience, for vanity!
’ Was that what Ruby had decided? He feared so.
She would be gratified by the applause, particularly as several gentlemen stood to shout ‘brava!’. That was the currency she enjoyed the most, Jacob knew, even more than his brother’s wealth.
They were coming to the climax of the evening.
Ruby was joined on stage for the final number: ‘Over the hills and far away’.
It was a well-known tune that had the audience clapping along.
Eliza Austen was beaming at the triumph of an evening, looking like she would need little persuasion to get up and start a reel.
Seeking out her even more interesting sister-in-law, Jacob found Jane at the side of the room, watching the audience as much as she did the performers, a sardonic smile on her lips.
She had not forgotten for a moment that this was no ordinary concert; as in Hamlet it was a mousetrap to catch a villain. Or two.
Neither should he take his eye off the ball. Affairs of the heart had to take second place to affairs of state. It was time he got into position.