Half Moon Street - Anne Perry [15]
Their first remarks after being introduced to Pitt proved her correct.
“Extraordinary!” Ralph Marchand said quietly, his face reflecting his puzzlement. He avoided Caroline’s eyes, as if he had not yet overcome his embarrassment at the subject and could not easily discuss it in a woman’s company.
Joshua offered Mrs. Marchand his seat, and she accepted it, thanking him.
“Remarkable woman,” Mr. Marchand went on, obviously referring to Cecily Antrim. “I realize, of course, that she is merely acting what the playwright has written, but I am sorry a woman of such talent should lend herself to this. And frankly I am surprised that the Lord Chamberlain permitted it a license to be performed!”
Joshua leaned gracefully against the wall near the edge of the red, plush-padded balcony, his hands in his pockets. “Actually I should be very surprised if she didn’t have considerable sympathy with the character,” he replied. “I think it was a part she chose to play.”
Mr. Marchand looked surprised and, Caroline thought, also disappointed.
“Really? Oh . . .”
“I cannot understand the Lord Chamberlain either,” Mrs. Marchand said sadly, her blue eyes very wide. “He is lacking in his duties that he has not exercised his power to censor it. He is supposed to be there for our protection. That, after all, is his purpose, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is, my dear,” her husband assured her. “It seems he does not appreciate the harm his laxity is doing.”
Caroline glanced at Joshua. She knew his views on censorship, and she was afraid he would say something which would offend the Marchands, but she did not know how to prevent it without in turn hurting him. “It is a difficult decision,” she said tentatively.
“It may require courage,” Mrs. Marchand replied without hesitation. “But if he accepts the office then we have the right to expect that much of him.”
Caroline could understand exactly what she meant. She knew instinctively her concerns, and yet she was equally sure Joshua would not. She was surprised how moderate his answer was when he spoke.
“Protection is a double-edged sword, Mrs. Marchand.” He did not move from his relaxed position against the corner of the balcony, but Caroline could see the more angular lines of his body as his muscles tensed.
Mrs. Marchand looked at him guardedly. “Double-edged?” she enquired.
“What is it you would like to be protected from?” Joshua kept his voice level and gentle.
Mr. Marchand moved slightly, only a changing of weight.
“From the corruption of decency,” Mrs. Marchand replied, anger and certainty ringing in her tone. Unconsciously she put her hand towards her husband. “From the steady destruction of our way of life by the praising of immorality and selfishness. The teaching of young and impressionable people that self-indulgence is acceptable, even good. The exhibiting in public of emotions and practices which should remain private. It cheapens and demeans that which should be sacred. . . .”
Caroline knew what she meant, and she more than half agreed with her. The Marchands had a young son, about sixteen years old. Caroline could remember when her daughters were that age, and how hard she had worked to guide and protect them. It had been less difficult then.
She looked at Joshua, knowing he would disagree. But then he had never had children, and that made a world of difference. He had no one to protect in that passionate way that demanded all commitment.
“Is self-denial better than self-indulgence?” Joshua questioned.
Mrs. Marchand’s dark eyebrows rose. “Of course it is. How can you need to ask?”
“But is not one person’s self-denial only the reverse side, the permission, if you like, for another’s self-indulgence?” he asked. He leaned forward a little. “Take the play, for example. When the wife denied herself, was she not making it possible for the husband to delude and indulge himself ?”
“I . . .” Mrs. Marchand began, then stopped. She was convinced she was right, but not sure how to explain it.
Caroline knew what she meant. The husband’s suffering was public, his