Chapter 28 Up in the Box #2
The costermonger mounted the stage and pitched a third, fourth, then fifth apple at the boy in quick succession. As the sure-handed fellow caught them all, then tossed them upwards, smatterings of laughter broke out amongst the audience.
“He’s a juggler! He tricked us all!” Belinda told Dora.
But there was no need as she saw that Miss Hartley was smiling broadly, watching the contrivance with her spectacles in place.
A helter-skelter chase around the stage followed until the taller guard, still feigning anger, seized the young showman around the waist and hoisted him aloft. Even then, the apples continued to rise and fall precisely, making the crowd whoop with delight.
When the boy was on his feet again, the coster crept up behind him and reached into the fluid circuit, recapturing her ruby goods, one at a time.
When all but one were safely nestled back in her basket, she curtseyed dramatically, then scurried off into the wings.
The strongmen, smiling now, dipped their heads and followed in her wake.
Left alone, the juggler casually polished the last piece of fruit on his rough coat before he gave a sweeping bow. Then, he took a loud, crunching bite of the apple and sauntered off of the stage. Thunderous applause and whistles followed him out.
Belinda noticed that Miss Hartley’s face was bare again, and just in time as the girl’s mother was turning on her seat, her cheeks lifted with glee.
“One never knows what they might see on a London stage!”
This time, the girls agreed heartily.
The orchestra played a few auguring strains, directing all present back to their seats.
The great gasolier overhead began to dim, and though still cheered by the charming charade, Belinda wondered when she might tell Dora about her predicament.
Silently practicing what she would say to enlist her friend's help, she hardly noted the opening scene of The Unfinished Gentleman.
But as the burletta's plot became clear, it pierced through her preoccupation, and increased her unease.
The play's principal character was a common man who had unexpectedly inherited a fortune.
He was attempting to improve himself through 'finishing lessons' that he might marry well and be accepted amongst the beau monde.
When his efforts to learn a modicum of French and how to dance a waltz went awry, he looked a fool, and the auditorium rang with laughter.
Would those here jeer at anyone who simply seeks to better him or herself? Her face was still burning when the lights brightened for the interval.
A pair of acrobats appeared to turn cartwheels across the stage, though Mrs Hartley paid them no mind as she was scanning the crowd below.
“Oh, Dora darling, look! Look there!” she cried, forgetting that she had forbidden her daughter to wear her spectacles. “I do believe that is one of my friends from the ladies’ seminary, one Miss Tate, though certainly that is no longer her name. Halloooo!”
Mrs Hartley leaned over the side of the box so far that Belinda feared her heavy bosom might pull her earthward.
“Oh, she sees me!”
Everyone sees you! Lindy thought, wishing she could sink more deeply into her chair. They’re all wondering who is howling in the rafters!
“I’ll just go down and say hello before the play starts up again.” Mrs Hartley was already out of her seat and through the egress.
As she left, Lindy thanked the heavens that she would finally be alone with Dora. But when she turned to begin the crucial conversation, she saw that her now-bespectacled friend was watching the tumblers as they walked on their hands, in perfect synchrony.
She will want to see all she can before her mother returns.
The girl's face was alight as she shifted her observations from the stage to the audience.
“Oh, there's a dandy fellow! How can he hear anything with his shirt points starched up around his ears like that?" Dora's giggle was golden. "And that woman there, with her hair dressed as high as St Paul’s dome! Imagine her sitting in her carriage, tilting her head just to fit inside. And wait…isn’t that your uncle’s doctor?”
Belinda’s head snapped up.
“Certainly not! Where?”
“Just there, by the — oh, pity! He’s moved out of view now. I’m sure he looked just like the fellow who was at your door when we took you home from the zoo.”
The poor thing’s sight is hardly improved, even with those thick lenses, Belinda thought. But enough of fanciful notions! This may be our only chance to speak privately.
“Dora,” Lindy began, feeling guilty for interrupting her friend’s chance to gaze upon everything in sight. “I wonder if you might help me to manage a difficult situation in which I find myself.”
Miss Hartley turned to her, the pity in her eyes magnified by her spectacles. “Whatever is the matter?”
“This morning, I learned that someone would like to employ me as a companion to their elderly aunt—”
"Employ you?"
"Yes, and—"
There was a knock upon the door jamb behind them as the door itself had been left open.
“May I come in?” a devastatingly familiar voice asked, freezing Belinda in place.
Dora shot to her feet.
“Oh, hello! Yes, please do.” Looking to Lindy, she laughed. “I told you I saw your uncle’s doctor!”
Belinda's eyes seized upon the man.
Why on earth is Mr Alwyn here? Holding onto her chair’s back, she stood slowly to her feet.
Clutching his satchel in the doorway, he certainly did look like the doctor he was training to be — a respectably commanding presence in his dark frock coat. But under the brim of his top hat, his face looked wary, and a sudden realization gripped Lindy's heart.
“Is Uncle George alright?”
“What? Yes! I beg your pardon, Miss Everson. I didn't mean to frighten you. I’ve no reason to believe that Mr Caspar is unwell this evening. I’m here for a different reason.” He stepped into the box and put his doctor's bag aside, glancing at Miss Hartley. “But first, might I meet your friend?”
Belinda barely heard the request through the whirring in her mind.
Has he come to make me that offer? I have no answer ready! I would he had arrived just five minutes later!
In the uneasy pause, Dora took it upon herself to tell the man her name and hear his. Even as the new acquaintances were still murmuring pleasantries, Belinda blurted, “Have you come to talk to me about your aunt?”
Releasing Miss Hartley’s hand, Mr Alwyn furrowed his brow.
“My aunt?”
“Mr Sliger said you are set on finding her a companion.”
“Sliger told you about my Aunt Joan?”
“Yes, but Mr Alwyn, I must tell you that although I know it would be a great honour to serve your family in such a r?le…I cannot think to…that is, I am certain that I am not the proper person for the position.”
His eyes, narrowed in perplexity, suddenly widened in realization.
“Miss Everson, I don’t mean to employ you.” His countenance and voice softened. “Rather, I have other, vastly dearer, hopes.”
The floor seemed to shift and Lindy tightened her hold on the chair.
Looking back and forth between her and Mr Alwyn, Dora shut her gaping mouth, then cleared her throat loudly.
“I’ll just go and take a turn in the hallway.” Receiving no response, she slipped out of the box.
Mr Alwyn started again, intensely. “Miss Everson, I am done with sideways speaking.”
He began to lower himself as if to kneel on one knee, soon growing frustrated as the confined space would not allow for it. Straightening up, he reached out and lightly covered Lindy's hand on the chair back with his.
Feeling its warmth, she was compelled to look up at him, though she quaked inside.
“I will ask you now what I wanted to ask weeks ago when we were last in Trippingham together...Miss Belinda Everson, will you marry me?”
Marry him? Weeks ago? Has guilt for kissing me hounded him all this time?
She swallowed, then opened her very dry mouth to speak.