Traitors Gate - Anne Perry [85]
The operas were Carmen, Lohengrin or Faust. She had a love for Italian opera and was not fond of Wagner’s, for all its current and surprising popularity. No one had expected it to be so. Had Simon Boccanegra been playing, or Nabucco, she would have gone even if she had to stand.
As it was she settled for She Stoops to Conquer, and found a remarkable number of her acquaintances had made the same decision. Although it was in many ways restful, the theater was still a place for which one dressed formally, at least for the three months of the Season, from May to July. At other times it was permissible to be rather more casual.
Theater outings were frequently organized in groups. Society seldom cared to do things in ones or twos. Dozens, or even scores, suited them better.
On this occasion Vespasia had invited Charlotte for pleasure, and Eustace as a matter of duty. He had been present when she made the decision to attend, and had shown so obvious an interest it would have been pointed not to include him, and for all the intense irritation he awoke in her from time to time, he was still part of her family.
She had invited Thomas also, of course, but he had been unable to come because of the pressure of work. He would not be able to leave Bow Street sufficiently early, and to enter one’s box when the play was in progress was not acceptable.
Thus it was that, long before the curtain went up, she, Charlotte and Eustace were seated in her box indulging in the highly entertaining pastime of watching the other members of the audience arrive.
“Ah!” Eustace leaned forward slightly, indicating a gray-haired man of distinguished appearance entering a box to their left. “Sir Henry Rattray. A quite excellent man. A paragon of courtesy and honor.”
“A paragon?” Vespasia said with slight surprise.
“Indeed.” Eustace settled back and turned towards her, smiling with intense satisfaction. In fact he looked so well pleased with himself his chest had expanded and his face seemed to glow. “He embodies those knightly virtues of courage before the foe, clemency in victory, honesty, chastity, gentleness with the fair sex, protection of the weak, which are at the foundation of all we hold dear. That is what a knight was in times past, and an English gentleman is now—the best of them, of course!” There was absolute certainty in his voice. He was making a statement.
“You must know him very well to be so adamant,” Charlotte said with wonder.
“Well you certainly know much of him that I do not,” Vespasia said ambiguously.
Eustace held up one finger. “Ah, my dear Mama-in-law, that is precisely the point. I do indeed know much of him that is not known to the public. He does his greatest good by stealth, as a trae Christian gentleman should.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to make some remark about stealing, and bit it off just in time. She looked at Eustace’s serene face and felt a chill of fear. He was so supremely confident, so certain he understood exactly what he was dealing with, who they were and that they believed the same misty, idealistic picture he did. He even thought in Arthurian language. Perhaps they held their meetings at round tables—with an empty seat for the “siege perilous” in case some wandering Galahad should arrive for the ultimate quest. The cleverness of it was frightening.
“A very perfect knight,” Charlotte said aloud.
“Indeed!” Eustace agreed with enthusiasm. “My dear lady, you have it exactly!”
“That was said of Lancelot,” Charlotte pointed out.
“Of course.” Eustace nodded, smiling. “Arthur’s closest friend, his right hand and ally.”
“And the man who betrayed him,” Charlotte added.
“What?” Eustace swung to face her, dismay in every feature.
“With Guinevere,” Charlotte explained. “Had you forgotten that? In every way it was the beginning of the end.”
Eustace obviously had forgotten it. The color