Chapter 5
During his extremely lucky life, Perseus had never seen such a magnificent face.
Miss Muriel Mitchell looked out over the crowd of the theater as if she was seeing heaven for the very first time. He had done that. He knew he had, and it thrilled him to bits.
Her eyes shone like jewels. Her lips were curved in the most radiant smile.
And there was a glow to her person, as if she had been dusted with the approval of the gods.
Even though her gown was quite simple compared to ladies of the ton in other richly appointed boxes, she stood out like a swan surrounded by a gaudy array.
He was captivated. All he wanted to do was gaze upon her.
Even when the play began, he knew it would take all his effort to tear his gaze from her and watch the antics of the actors.
No, he feared he would watch her watching them.
For she did something to his spirit with her pure joy that no one else had ever done. And he never wanted to let that go.
Now, she had been to the theater before quite obviously, and that was one of the reasons why she was so passionate about it and the scholarly studying of it, but this was different.
He knew it.
Even so, there was something about attending the theater with the Briarwoods.
Despite the fact that he was a Briarwood, he was aware of this.
It was like being in the most hallowed halls or with the most important people in politics.
And his family, of course, was one of the most important families in politics, but this? This was special.
She listened with bated breath to the bright chatter of his grandmother and his aunt, Lady Juliet, who had both ruled the boards on two different continents.
Yes! She was rapt.
She basked in the glow of the candlelight tumbling from the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.
That light bathed all in a golden glow, but none could touch her beauty in this moment.
The ceiling was decked out with golden filigree, and the heavy curtains were closed at present, waiting for the moment the play would begin.
His uncles were also in rapid conversation about the play to be presented this evening.
“Do you like As You Like It?” his Uncle Hector asked, his big voice booming over the din.
She nodded happily. “I do. Of course I do.”
“Do you like the wrestling in the play?” his Uncle Ajax asked, his blond hair glinting almost silver in the candlelight.
Perseus hung on her answer to the question. After all, she had caught him and Deimos wrestling. She must enjoy it.
Her cheeks flushed with color. “I confess I think it’s a rather unique way that Rosalind first eyes her hero, Orlando.”
“Do you like the wrestling, my lord?” she sallied back with surprising excitement.
Ajax nodded. “Oh, I love it. A good stage fight is just the thing!”
“And As You Like It is quite superior, don’t you think?” Hector prompted, as if her opinion was exceptionally important, despite her youth and lack of status compared with his own.
“Indeed, I do. It is an exceptionally good comedy, I think,” she said most seriously. “It contains wisdom beyond most of our understanding, and it would be wise for all of us to pay attention to that wisdom.”
“Indeed,” Ajax said, his brows rising with approval. “There are speeches in it that I think shall be remembered for hundreds of years.”
“Timeless,” Perseus said.
She nodded, catching his glance. For a moment, there was such gratitude there, as if she understood that he had brought her into this fold where she could discuss her ideas freely.
He smiled back, his heart full.
“Ah, a wise young lady,” his grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Westleigh, mused with pleasure as she snapped her fan open to cool herself in the packed theater.
“I do like a wise young lady. Now, my dear, you must sit next to me during the performance, and I can regale you with any details you wish to know. Though we must be quiet. I don’t wish to distract any of the audience from witnessing such a performance. ”
“Oh, of course, Your Grace,” Miss Mitchell said with delight. “And it would be an honor to hear anything that you might have to say. After all, I have read articles about your own magnificent portrayal of Rosalind.”
The dowager duchess beamed and snapped her painted fan shut, touching it to her chin, which caused the lace at her shoulders to dance. “Have you, my dear? How absolutely magnificent.”
“Yes, the newssheets and commentary that I have read suggest that you were positively excellent in the breeches roles. Did you prefer them?”
Perseus gazed from the young lady to his grandmother, loving the excitement shared between them.
And he could have sworn he heard a yearning in Muriel’s voice, as if she too longed to don breeches and play those most merry parts.
His grandmother tilted her head to the side, considering.
“Well, the tragedies of William Shakespeare are stirring, and it is impossible to deny the depth and power of them. But I confess there was something really wonderful about playing the breeches parts, something truly freeing, and, of course, the comedy is positively delightful. Just the thing for this time of year, don’t you think? ”
The truth was his family entertained both comedy and tragedy in the winter months, but he rather agreed with his grandmother at present.
With the dour way things had been outside, having a good laugh seemed, as she said, just the thing.
Muriel nodded her agreement. She seemed completely at ease, completely happy in the company surrounding her and the buzz of the conversation.
“Grandmama, you’ll have to introduce her to Estella, don’t you think?” Perseus suggested.
His grandmother’s eyes brightened. “Would you like to meet my sister?”
Miss Mitchell’s mouth dropped open. She swallowed. “Yes, of course, please. It would be such a great honor to meet such a jewel of the stage.”
His grandaunt, Estella, was still, though she was now far beyond the years of what was considered young, one of the most famous ladies on the London stage.
His grandmother nodded, growing more and more pleased. “Of course I shall, my dear. And I’m certain we can find most unique ways to encourage your love of the theater. Have you been finding everything to your satisfaction in our library?”
“Oh, yes,” Muriel gushed, folding her gloved hands before her, all but bouncing on her slippered toes with her glee. “I have found paper after paper that fills my heart with joy and satisfies my unending curiosity.”
“How wonderful that your family allows you to pursue such things,” his grandmother said.
“That’s what I think too,” Perseus agreed happily. “They must be singular like us.”
“Like you?” Muriel echoed, astonished. “Well, they’re not exactly like the Briarwoods,” she murmured, “but they are different from most. I agree with that. They want everyone in the family to read well and be highly educated.”
Muriel frowned and worry creased her brow. “Hopefully, all my sisters shall find excellent husbands who agree.”
The dowager duchess pursed her lips and tapped her fan against her skirts as she clearly weighed an idea. Then she proclaimed, “I shall have to help your mother to endeavor to do so, my dear. We great readers must stick together, mustn’t we? We like-minded crew.”
Muriel’s cheeks flushed with color and relief, clearly overjoyed to be considered like-minded to the Briarwood family.
Perseus felt better and better with each moment that passed because she was his friend, and he wanted his friend to find her place in the world.
He wanted her to feel accomplished and full of confidence, and he had certainly succeeded.
He was rather surprised that his mother and grandmother had not invited her to dinner or to the theater before he’d suggested it, for they were such generous people.
But then again, they were rather busy at present.
The family was always full of things going on. Just recently, there had been multiple weddings!
And if Miss Mitchell had only inquired about studying in the library, she might have slipped away from notice like a little mouse. He could see how she might be considered mouselike sometimes, quiet, studious, unnoticed, but she shouldn’t be.
He could feel it in his bones. Muriel should be noticed by everyone, and he wanted to arrange it so that she could be appreciated as she should be.
The curtains at the back of their box swung open, and he was ready to greet one of his cousins, but instead, a lady strode through with soft brown curling hair coiled atop her head and silk ribbons laced through with feathers dancing about her face.
Lovely laugh wrinkles lined her mouth and her merry hazel eyes.
She looked as if she was the sort of lady who had learned to laugh at life and enjoyed a good slice of cake along with an excellent chat.
Even so, she was beaming, her eyes darting about, clearly amazed to be in such company.
“You sent for me, Your Grace,” the lady said with a quick curtsy that caused the feathers atop her head to quiver.
“Mama,” Muriel exclaimed, “you’re here.”
“Oh, yes,” the dowager duchess said, “I could not imagine inviting you to join us without also inviting your mother. It really is not the done thing. We are all excellent chaperones for you, but I think this is the best thing. Will you come and sit with us, Lady Mitchell?”
Lady Mitchell looked about them all as if somehow she too had been swept into heaven, but obviously for different reasons.
While Muriel might adore the theater, Lady Mitchell was being put into the position of having the acquaintance of a duchess and a dowager duchess and the entire Briarwood family.
This was not something that most of the ton could claim. No, usually only the very most upper echelons of society could lay claim to such a thing, but the Briarwoods were more egalitarian than most.