Page 31 of The Rake and Lady Julia
In the stalls below, young-bloods brayed and cat-called to ladies, while fruit-sellers wove their way through the crowds. The boxes were no better, as ladies flittered to and fro, popping into each other for a gossip, as though making morning calls.
Lord Pariseau too appeared to have little interest in the scenes unfolding on the stage below, and he kept up a steady stream of chatter as Act One ceded to Act Two.
Julia "mmhed" and "ahhed" in all the right places, though her attention was not focused on the earl. No, it was attuned to the story taking place below, and when it was not paying mind to that, it was slipping two boxes over to Lord Montague.
Despite Pariseau's disgust at Montague's choice of guest s, the young boys in his care were the best behaved persons in the whole theatre. Julia could not help but smile as she caught sight of them, hanging over the balcony in rapt attention at the play. She doubted that anyone in the history of The Theatre Royal had ever been as attentive as Montague's bunch of ruffians.
Her eyes slid from the boys, searching for the marquess, and when she found them, she gave a slight start. For as raptly as the boys were watching the actors, so Montague was watching her.
Brazenly.
Openly.
Unmistakably.
"I say," Pariseau said, as he too caught sight of Montague, "What on earth is Lord Montague about, staring at you like that? I know your families do not get on, but there is no call for him to scowl across at you so."
Julia rather thought that it was Pariseau whom Montague was now glaring at, but she held her tongue.
"Pay no heed," she instructed the earl, while hoping that she too might take her own advice.
For the remainder of the second act, Julia managed to keep her head turned away from Lord Montague, though her neck ached from the effort of it. As the curtains fell for the intermission, she let out a sigh of relief that her ordeal was partly at an end.
"If you will excuse me, ladies," Pariseau said, as he rose to a stand, "I shall go fetch us some libations."
"How kind," Lady Cavendish smiled, though the dowager countess remained resolutely asleep in her chair.
"I shall just go and say hello to Lady Jersey," Julia's mama said, once Pariseau had gone, "You wait here."
It was evident that the marchioness wished to give Julia a little time alone with the earl. With Lady Pariseau present—though, unconscious—no one might comment that anything was amiss.
Despite Julia's whispered protests, Lady Cavendish rose from her seat, to go and search for her friend.
"You wait here," she instructed, "For Lord Pariseau."
Julia gave a shiver; she had no desire to wait to be alone with the earl, who might use the chance to whisper sweet nothings in her ear and, perhaps, try steal a kiss.
"Maria, I wish to freshen up," Julia whispered to the maid, who was working on a piece of cross stitch in the corner.
"Right you are," Maria said, offering her a wink as she made to pick up her basket, in which—no doubt—she held a porcelainbourdaloue.
"No, no need for that," Julia whispered, "I just need to stretch my legs."
"I thought you needed to freshen up?"
"Are they not the same thing?" Julia whispered, irritably.
"No, my lady," Maria whispered back, equally as vexed, "If you say you wish to stretch your legs, I know that you need a walk. If you say you need to freshen up, then I know you need a—"
"Fine," Julia interrupted her, before she said anything uncouth, "I beg your forgiveness; I was mistaken."
"So, you do need thebourdaloue?" Maria queried, confused.
"No, for heaven's sake, no," Julia wailed, "I just need to stretch my legs."
"Well, why didn't you say so?" Maria asked, and with the air of one most aggrieved, she rose to a stand to escort Julia on her jaunt.
Julia told herself that she was simply taking an aimless jaunt, but her slippered feet turned left, in the direction of Lord Montague's box. She smiled blandly at those who passed her, glad that Maria was trailing her, so that it did indeed look like she was off to some feminine recess to attend to her toilette.
