‘You will be fine,’ her father said firmly. ‘What are you performing?’
‘Just a short piece from Shakespeare,’ Maude said vaguely. She had said little more than that to Eden, other than to add, ‘It will only take a few minutes. I will go at the very end, before the string band’s last piece’, before escaping under the pretext of taking delivery of the hothouse blooms.
‘Most suitable, I am sure. You look very lovely,’ Lord Pangbourne added. ‘That soft green suits you.’
‘Thank you, Papa.’ She had chosen the gown with care, selecting a simple column of green silk over an underskirt of soft cream crepe. Anna had piled her hair high, dressing it with pearls to match those in her ears and circling her throat.
It was, Maude thought, considering her appearance with ruthless detachment, the most elegant and also the most seductive garment she possessed, the low bodice cupping her breasts, the cunningly cut sleeves seeming on the point of slipping from her shoulders. If everything went well, they would slip from her shoulders under the pressure of Eden’s hands and his mouth would find the lush curves they guarded. And if she failed, then Anna would unfasten it with care, hang it up to air and then fold it away again in silver paper and lavender—she would never want to wear it again.
Two hours later she was sitting applauding her male friends and their soldier chorus while the Unicorn shook with cheers and clapping. ‘It’s a wild success!’ Jessica was on her feet, clapping. ‘Everyone is loving it.’ She collapsed back again on to her seat and fanned herself. They were using the Templeton box for their party so they had the best view of the whole theatre. Some people were promenading, others seated, eating. Parties had taken boxes and had crammed them with their friends and the wine was flowing like water.
Ashe had had the idea of charging for champagne, deliberately inflating the price, and guests were vying to be seen buying with a lavish disregard for cost in support of the charity. The rows of bottles in front of parties was becoming a matter for competition, and it was certainly helping the amateur performers overcome their nerves, adding an extra dimension to some of the more comedic pieces as performers literally tripped on to the stage to roars of laughter from their friends.
But the ladies, and most of the older men, were providing enough dignified entertainment to leaven the jollity and Eden was managing the order and presentation of the acts with flair.
He was also playing his role of showman to the hilt. Maude had told him she would like to see his impersonation of the old-school actor-managers and now she was wondering if he had remembered that and had dressed accordingly.
She watched, a fond smile on her lips, as he walked out to introduce the next act. ‘My lords, ladies, gentlemen! The lovely, the distinguished, the talented Lady Patronesses of Almack’s!’
They filed on, grouped themselves with the elegance of three Greek goddesses at the centre of the fore-stage and bowed. Jessica craned to see the four who had not agreed to perform. ‘Mrs Drummond Burrell is sucking lemons,’ she reported. ‘I am she wishes now she had agreed to take part.’
But Maude was watching Eden signalling to the string band to strike up the accompaniment for the song. His hair was glossy with oil, curled, dressed so its length was very obvious. His skin was golden in the gas light, his eyes so dramatically dark that she knew he must have outlined them with kohl. He had never looked so Italian and in his flamboyantly frilled shirt and his jet-black suit of tails she thought he had never looked quite such a dangerous male animal before either. Diamonds winked everywhere, including both ears, and the audience seemed to love him. He exactly fitted their mood for the evening—different, exotic, decidedly scandalous—and his uncompromising control of the stage seemed to steady the nerves of the most anxious performer.
Ashe, Theo and Gareth came in, larger than life after their success, grinning and demanding praise for their act. ‘And we have a surprise for you,’ Ashe added, flinging the door to the box wide. ‘I give you Her Serene Highness, the Grand Duchess Eva, and Lord Sebastian Ravenhurst!’
Maude was so swept up in the excitement of the new arrivals and the need to find chairs, settle them in the box, explain what was going on and demand news, that her planned half-hour of quiet rehearsal, when she had intended to slip away backstage by herself, was quite forgotten.
Eva, magnificent in ruby silk, waved to her friends all around, in between explaining their unexpected arrival. ‘The wind in the Channel was just right, we seemed to fly across, then the children were so good we just pressed on from Dover and arrived at five this evening and of course you’d told us about this in your letters, so we put the children to bed, got changed and here we are.’
‘Aren’t you exhausted?’ Bel asked over the clamour of a demonstration of Scottish sword dancing by three officers of a Highland regiment.
‘Not in the slightest,’ Eva pronounced. ‘Who have we missed?’
‘All of us except Maude, and she is the last act.’
The officers left the stage to cheers and Eden walked back on. Eva raised her quizzing glass. ‘What a very dramatic young man.’ Maude saw Jessica kick Eva’s ankle warningly. ‘Are we supposed to pretend he doesn’t exist?’ she asked provocatively with a sideways look at Maude.
‘What have they been telling you?’ Maude asked, resigned to Jessica and Bel having regaled Eva with the entire story, episode by episode, in their letters.
Instead of teasing her, Eva lent over and touched her cheek in a fleeting caress. ‘That you have lost your heart and it is hard for your friends to see how it is not going to be broken.’ Maude swallowed, shaken by the tenderness in Eva’s voice. The Grand Duchess could be so autocratic and overwhelming that the gentle understanding in her eyes brought tears to Maude’s own. ‘There are those who said I made an unequal marriage—the bridegroom included,’ she whispered. ‘But love gives you courage.’
Maude hung on to those words as the evening passed and the moment arrived when the act before her own came on to the stage. ‘You had better hurry down,’
Bel whispered.
‘No, I am staying here,’ Maude said, getting to her feet. ‘Please can you all move back a little and dim the lamps on that side?’
Puzzled, they did as she asked. Maude stood back in the shadows, waiting. Lady Calthorpe and her daughter came to the end of a charming duet and Eden walked back on stage.
To Maude’s eye he was puzzled, obviously wondering where she was, but, with a glance back into the wings, he announced, ‘Lady Maude Templeton!’
There was silence, then Maude stepped to the front of the box in the light of the only remaining lamp and spoke Juliet’s words, her voice clear across the crowded space.
Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards Phoebus’ lodging…
Chapter Twenty