Page 5 of Knight of Destiny

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ChapterTwo

The headmistress opened the door, and the students began filing out into the bright spring day. They strolled down the drive, in clumps of twos and threes, and Louisa, Ruth, and the twins brought up the rear.

Unity tilted in closer to the others. “Do you remember when we came last year? Mr. Barker was awfully familiar with Mrs. Rutley. Do you think he’ll be as friendly this time?”

“She’s pretty enough for her age,” Theodosia offered. “I see no reason why he would not.”

Louisa laughed. With her chestnut hair mixed with a bit of gray, blue eyes, and a kind smile, Mrs. Rutley would indeed be considered a beautiful woman. But she was old, and Louisa conveyed as much to her friends.

“Men may remarry at an old age,” Unity said with a sniff. “I see no reason a woman cannot.”

Ruth yawned. “Because they want young brides, not old women. Sadly, Mrs. Rutley falls in the latter category.”

“What you say may be true, Ruth,” Unity said. “But certainly a man may take exception to her age.”

Theodosia sniffed loudly. “You all act as if the only time they see each other is during these few visits to the theater. Has it never occurred to you that perhaps they spend more time together than we know?”

The discussion of older women marrying continued for the remainder of the trek into the village. Each offered a different opinion, which was not uncommon.

The High Street of Chatsworth hosted the same type of shops one might find in larger villages across England. Mrs. Alton’s millinery, Mistral’s Booksellers, Mr. Finch’s butcher’s shop, and Mr. Hill’s cobbler’s shop, just to name a few.

The village was bustling for a Tuesday afternoon. Most of the nobility were off in London for the Season, which left the working and merchant classes the freedom to shop to their hearts’ content. Or as far as their purses would allow.

Mrs. Rutley signaled for the group to stop, and the students formed a half-circle around her. “I expect nothing less than your best behavior,” she said. “We represent our families and the school, but more importantly, we represent ourselves. Now, let’s enjoy the afternoon.”

The outside might have been deceiving in what lay inside, but the interior was much different. The foyer dripped red. Red carpet, red velvet curtains, red-painted walls, it was a mass of crimson. This made Louisa smile. There was a sense of elegance, a regality that made it a crown jewel of the village.

“Mrs. Rutley,” Mr. Barker gushed as he walked up to them. His ill-fitting coat drooped over a thin frame as he ran a hand through unruly dark-brown hair. “I’ve been looking forward to your visit. In fact, I’ve thought of nothing else.” His eyes flew open wide. “I mean… That is, you and your students, of course. Not just you… or rather…” He cleared his throat.

Louisa and Jenny had happened upon the theater owner several weeks earlier. And just like that encounter when he had only mentioned their headmistress, his cheeks went red to his ears.

Yet Mrs. Rutley was ever the lady who presented herself with decorum and propriety. “Thank you, Mr. Barker. We’ve been exceptionally excited to take your tour this year. Have we not, ladies?” Several of the students nodded in agreement. “If you’re ready, please proceed.” She gave him a smile and took a step back to stand beside Ruth.

Mr. Barker nodded. “Y-yes. Yes, of course.” He cleared his throat again. “Thank you, Mrs. Rutley.”

Louisa covered her mouth to keep the laugh that bubbled up inside her from erupting. If he was not enamored with Mrs. Rutley, she would eat her shoe!

“I see a few new faces,” Mr. Barker said as he surveyed the group of students. “I’m Mr. Barker, the owner of the Chatsworth Theater. We may not be as grand as those in London or even Yorkshire, but we’ve hosted some prominent guests during its hundred years. Even members of the Royal family have graced our humble establishment.”

Two years earlier, Louisa learned that King George I had visited the tiny theater during one of his few visits to England in 1724. Although he spoke only German, he had said through a translator that it was the finest performance he had ever seen. Or so said Mr. Barker.

When Louisa had asked Mrs. Rutley why the king would visit Chatsworth, let alone its theater, the headmistress had offered a bit of advice.

“Sometimes it’s best to smile politely and keep those sorts of questions to yourself.”

Mr. Barker continued his usual speech—including the mention of a visit from a king—and soon, they entered the auditorium. More red filled this room, from the main curtains that flanked the stage to those on either side of the balcony seats. Even the fabric on the seats was a deep, almost-black crimson. A center aisle separated two stalls of twenty-five seats each, and below the stage was a pit where a small orchestra sat during each production.

Louisa was always impressed at how large the interior was once she was inside. By all outside appearances, it should not have been able to hold so many people at once.

The backdrop on the stage consisted of numerous buildings that resembled those in Chatsworth. Two men no older than thirty were sweeping the stage, stopping long enough to give a polite bow before Mr. Barker dismissed them.

“Now for a rare treat, ladies,” Mr. Barker said, grinning widely. “I would like to invite you to come onto the stage. Few have the privilege of ever seeing the auditorium from this perspective.”

A wave of excited whispers flittered through the students. Louisa smiled, remembering the thrill of going on the stage for the first time during her first year at the school.

Ruth, of course, rolled her eyes and remained offstage. She had never been interested in the theater tour, and Louisa often wondered why she bothered to come.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” Amy Felton whispered, her round cheeks rosy with excitement. A new student to the school, the young blonde girl showed the most potential of all the new arrivals—or at least as far as Louisa was concerned. “To think we’ll stand where the performers bring their characters to life! Upon where King George I once watched!”


Tags: Jennifer Monroe Historical