Richard and I had invited Gervase and Ian to accompany us. Ian’s trenchant observations, spoken sotto voce to us as the play progressed, had amused me more than I’d thought when it became obvious that Mr. Garrick’s mind was elsewhere, certainly not on the character of Lusignan.
“Did you know he’d bought a house in the country?” Ian murmured from behind me.
Gervase chuckled. “The troubles of a landowner affecting the purity of his performance? Perhaps he is wondering if a Roman temple would suit his land. He does keep glancing at the backdrop when there’s no need.”
But my attention finally left the stage when I saw the newcomers. John, sporting a blue coat and waistcoat, which, as luck would have it, was the precise sapphire shade of the one Richard wore tonight. The man seemed to want to make blue his signature colour. In the pit, several sets of eyes went from us to their box and back again. “I’d like to know who got them a box immediately opposite ours,” I replied.
“Oh don’t worry, I’ll find out,” Richard said, with a menace that promised retribution to whoever had acted so rashly. “But we’re fixed here for the duration. If we leave, the audience will see it as a snub, and at present we’re avoiding direct public confrontation. Damn the upstart. Oh my God, will you look at that.”
John had escorted two ladies and a gentleman into his box. Julia Drury could be expected to stir up trouble where Richard was concerned, so her presence didn’t surprise us. However John had brought his sister, Susan. The other gentleman must be Susan’s beau, Sir Andrew Davies. He appeared in portly, middle-aged prime, but we already knew that although I had never seen him before. I generally met Susan at Thompson’s, because for obvious reasons Richard couldn’t be seen entering and leaving her place of work. Neither could she visit us while there was supposed to be no link between us. It had worked well. Giving her the money had helped to assuage Richard’s strong feeling of guilt that he should have done more during their miserable childhoods. Not that he’d even known they’d existed during that unfortunate period in their lives.
John had just blown all that apart. He’d made his claim for Richard’s attention blatant, if not explicit. He hadn’t, as far as we knew, told anyone that he was Richard’s son. He’d let them draw their own conclusions, and society had done so. Even more now. The similarity between the brother and sister couldn’t be denied by anyone seeing them together. John sat next to her and once he’d settled her, she lifted her head and gazed about her.
When she saw us she didn’t pause. Her eyes widened—I saw the flash from where I sat—as her chest rose and fell with a quick gasp, then she moved on. John stood and bowed to his father, low enough to show the obeisance required of a noble sire. Richard had no choice. He inclined his head in a regal nod, and I followed his example as best I could. Acknowledging someone that I’d met but who had not made a particular impression. We couldn’t cut him without revealing a breach between us. Then society would have meat to go with its gossip, and our aim was to reduce the gossip, not add to it.
“I shall speak to my father,” Richard murmured.
“I’ll be there,” Gervase said from behind him.
“No,” Richard answered sharply but without heat. “We’ll do this in stages. If we both confront him, we’ll set him against us. He’ll feel obliged to take our mother’s side.”
“Are there sides, then?”
Richard sighed. “I think so. Our revered mother is taking his side. A shocking volte-face, I know, but she was ever thus. I think she means to control me this way. Threaten me with him.”
“As you say, ever thus. Divide and rule, it’s always her way.” Gervase sounded resigned. In his place I’d have been angry, but Gervase had found fortune in his travels and was now worth a great deal of money.
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