Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Colin, I suspect you have fallen in love with Lady Jocelyn Sherwyn. We do not need to leave for the theater for another hour and you are already dressed and ready to go."

Colin smiled sheepishly at his cousin. "You may be right Marcus. I kept telling myself I ought not to rush into anything. I met Jocelyn that first night and there were many other young ladies whom I hadn't met. Yet everywhere I go I see only Jocelyn."

"I thought so. You've definitely fallen for her. James, is there anything we can do to bring him out of this state?" Marcus asked his valet.

"I suspect not, My Lord. There is no cure for being, erm… lovesick," James replied.

"If you decide to offer for her then good luck with speaking to her Uncle Harold. I know the old miser from my club, and I can only describe him as a prize nincompoop. I like that word, it makes me smile, and there is little about the Earl of Riversmead to bring a smile to my face."

"It's early days, but I enjoy her company, I look forward to her conversation, and when we are together then I don't want to part," confessed Colin.

"Then I wish you joy as you get to know Lady Jocelyn," said Marcus.

"The family has had much tragedy," said James. "The house at Silverton is still being rebuilt, but I gather it will open again later this year." He handed Marcus his linen shirt to put on.

James continued, "I have a cousin who worked for the Sherwyn's at Silverton before the fire. He doesn't think he will return to the estate."

"The fire?" asked Marcus. "I hadn't made the connection between Lady Jocelyn, Lady Olivia and the Silverton Hall fire."

"I know, Jocelyn lost both her parents in the fire. She told me about it when I called earlier in the week. It isn't easy for her to talk about it, and it sounds as though she almost lost her life in the fire," said Colin.

"What caused the fire?" asked Marcus.

"They think a housemaid forgot to extinguish a candle and it somehow fell over. No one is sure," Colin answered.

"It was devastating," added James. "The wing with the family rooms was totally destroyed. They think the earl and countess were asleep upstairs and never woke up. Jocelyn lost her parents and her nanny, who lived up in the attic in the nursery. A tragic loss."

"How did Jocelyn escape?" asked Marcus.

"Her aunt Olivia, Lady Sherwyn, had been reading late downstairs in the library and saw the smoke as she began to climb the stairs. She alerted Mr. Jenkins, the butler, whose pantry was on the ground floor, and he evacuated all the servants, including my cousin. Silverton had two back staircases which meant they could rescue everyone except those in the family wing.

"Lady Sherwyn rescued her niece," added Colin. "She went up the backstairs and made her way through a smoke-filled landing to Jocelyn's room. I don't know the rest of it, except life has been especially difficult for Olivia since that day. I get the impression the uncle is not the most loving of guardians."

Marcus listened carefully, processing the information about Olivia's bravery. "I think it is generally known that Harold Sherwyn is a very rich, but miserly, miserable man," he commented.

"Colin, you may be lucky. You may find he is quick to agree to you taking the hand of Lady Jocelyn to reduce his expenses," Marcus said with a grin. "Now, how do I look James?"

"Elegant, but restrained My Lord," came the response.

"Perfect. Thank you again. Come Colin, time to join our guests at the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden. As they are our guests it would be churlish to arrive late."

"Late?" said Colin in a panic. "Are we late? Surely not?

"Relax my friend. I'm jesting and it wasn't fair. We will arrive in good time."

Marcus loved opera but had always attended the Opera House in Florence or Rome with the Contessa. He still missed Lucretzia Fiorella, with her wit and ability to laugh at convention, and determination to enjoy life.

The outside of the theater shone in the dark, brightly illuminated by sconces on the wall. After the conversation with Colin, he couldn't help but think of the risk of fire, ever present in buildings like this.

Olivia, not thinking of herself, but only of the need to save her niece.

No wonder the young women had such a close bond between them.

The party gathered in a private function room, arranged by Marcus. Light refreshments, including a new wine, developed in one of his neighboring vineyards in Champagne.

Madame Clicquot had used a technique of putting the bottles down for their second fermentation period and the result was very different. The wine, studded with sparkling bubbles, was refreshing on the tongue and palate. He hoped his guests would give him an honest opinion, and he'd also arranged a red burgundy from his new vineyard to be served alongside the experimental wine.

Soon Viscount and Lady Leighton, Lady Sherwyn, and Lady Jocelyn gathered in the function room. He had invited their guardian, but he had declined with a curt reply.

Lady Leighton declared herself an immediate supporter of the white sparkling wine. Everyone gasped in surprise when a footman opened the bottle, and the cork came out with a large pop. Laughter filled the room and Marcus knew he'd make the right decision in serving the champagne.

He needed to decide whether to produce Mrs. Clicquot's new wine in his own vineyards near Troyes.

"It's got bubbles," giggled Jocelyn to Colin. "Look, it is bright and clear, and I can see bubbles."

"I've never tasted anything like it," said Lady Leighton. "But I can imagine those bubbles keeping me going at those all-night balls."

"It is quite potent," warned Marcus, "in the same way as any other white wine."

"Really?" asked Olivia in surprise. "Our cook makes something similar with elderflowers, but that isn't inebriating.

"I do love that elderflower drink," added Jocelyn. "I'd forgotten all about it."

"I must get the recipe," said Lady Leighton. "I do like the tingly, sharp taste of the bubbles."

The evening had started well. It was almost time to take their seats for the performance.

He found himself standing close to Olivia. She smiled at him, and he wondered what those dark blue eyes reminded him of. He suddenly realized she was speaking to him, and he had been miles away, thinking only about her eyes.

"Do you know this opera, Lord Hatfield?" Olivia had been asking him.

"The opera? It's my favorite," Marcus replied. "So many operas are serious. I love the music of Mr. Purcell, as you know," reminding her of that day in the woodland glade. "But his operas are so tragic and sad."

"You're right," she agreed. "Beautiful but so sad."

"This opera has comedy. Mozart produced a masterpiece with the Marriage of Figaro or more correctly Le Nozze di Figaro . We have an Austrian Theater group performing here in London, and this is their opening night."

He did not mention that he had sponsored the performance and brought the company to London for a week.

"Will they sing in Italian?" she asked him.

"Indeed," he answered.

"Then I shall welcome your translations of the Italian. I know French and Latin, but not Italian," Olivia informed him.

"I'll be glad to. It's a comedy and a love story. Susannah, the heroine, evades seduction by a Count Almaviva. The music is superb," explained Marcus.

As they walked to their box, one of many lining the sides of the auditorium, he found Lady Cressida Lantham, and her mother, directly in his path.

She curtsied as he passed, and he knew he needed to acknowledge this friend of his mother.

"Lady Lantham, Lady Cressida, what a delightful surprise," he said. "I did not realize you enjoyed opera."

Lady Cressida's voice, high and tinny, seemed to always grate on his ears. He had been captivated by her classical beauty, when he had first met her, but she had an unfortunate tendency to ask question after question and laugh in a high-pitched style.

Here we go, he thought as he saw her open her mouth. Before Lady Cressida could speak, he continued, introducing her to his party. He noticed that when he introduced Olivia, the other woman's eyes had narrowed, and seemed almost black in the lamplight in the corridor. Something made him think of a lizard basking in the sun, ready to pounce on a butterfly, but he pushed the thought away. He must miss Italy more than he realized.

Olivia, who had been walking with him to their box, stepped backwards, leaving him alone with Lady Cressida. He smiled, and tried to feign an interest as she asked him question after question about Mr. Mozart and his opera. She continued asking if he would be attending a ball later in the week? He nodded absently, glad when Lady Leighton joined him, and suggested they take their seats.

As they made their way up the grand staircase, he decided to suggest to Olivia that they conspire to let Lady Jocelyn and Colin sit together for the performance. She nodded her agreement, and it clicked suddenly that Olivia's eyes resembled cornflowers in a meadow on a summer's day.

"It's so beautiful," gasped Olivia as they entered their box and he saw how she looked around the theater with delight.

"We have a good view of the stage from here too," Marcus added.

"I can't believe how high up the ceiling reaches. It's like those pictures of the Pantheon in Rome," continued Olivia.

Marcus looked at her with curiosity. "You've seen paintings of the Pantheon?"

"Yes, I'd like to visit it one day. I doubt I ever shall, but it must be an amazing spectacle."

"It is indeed," he told her.

"You've been there?"

"Yes, many times. I lived several years in Italy and though my villa is near Florence in Tuscany, I've been to Roma many times."

"How exciting," she almost whispered. "To see the sights of ancient Rome."

"I think the curtain is about to rise," said Marianne. "Colin and Jocelyn can take those seats over there. I have a headache, so Charles and I shall sit at the back of the box, which means that you, Marcus, and Olivia can sit at the other side. Does that suit everyone?"

They took their seats as the overture started and were soon lost in the music, the arias, and the humorous comedy, which had them laughing out loud on several occasions.

As the story unfolded, with moments of tender love between Susanna and Figaro, he found his gaze drawn to Olivia's profile and the obvious joy she found in the music. There were breaks between each interval for scenery to be moved and this gave him time to talk with the young lady at his side.

"This isn't going well," she said with concern, "I don't like Count Almaviva at all."

"Don't worry. I don't want to give the ending away, but it is a romantic comedy."

He noticed Olivia looking at Lady Leighton with concern. "Marianne hasn't felt well all day, and she does suffer with the migraine."

At the second long interval, Lord Leighton told Olivia and Marcus that he was going to take Marianne home. Their friend looked pale, and Olivia told Marcus she knew these headaches could last for several days.

"Look after her, Charles," Olivia said. "Are you sure you don't want me to accompany you?"

"No need for that Olivia. I'll send the carriage back for you and Jocelyn." He turned to Marcus, "Can I ask you to escort these two young ladies to the carriage when the performance ends?"

"Of course," said Marcus. "I trust Lady Leighton will recover soon."

As the final act unfurled, Marcus was conscious of Olivia so close to him.

Olivia dropped her fan and they both bent to pick it up. His fingers brushed against hers in the darkness and for a moment, in the eerie illumination of the torches, his eyes met hers, and he could not pull away, imagining those cornflowers in that summer meadow.

At the end of the show, they left their box to find the theater director waiting outside to speak with Marcus as patron of the performance.

"Colin. I do apologize, can you take the ladies to their carriage. It seems that I am needed backstage. I'll join you in a few minutes," Marcus asked him.

"Of course. Ladies, let us find your carriage," called Colin.

Marcus did not wish to leave Olivia. as he tried to work out what was happening to him. The connection between them strengthened each time they spent time together.

After meeting with the conductor and main performers he hurried to the foyer.

He stopped suddenly as a figure stepped in front of him, blocking his route forwards.

The figure bobbed a curtsy in greeting. Ah, Lady Cressida.

"Lord Hatfield. I'm so glad to see you again," she gushed, looking around her in agitation. "I've lost Mama. Well, I can't find her anywhere." She sniffed, seemingly near to tears.

‘I'm sure she is here somewhere," he reassured her, looking around in an attempt to locate Lady Cressida's mother in the crowd.

"Please, My Lord, would you help me to the entrance of the theater. I think that's where Mama will wait for me."

He sighed inwardly, but in true gentlemanly fashion offered her his arm and guided her through the crowds to the foyer. As they made their way she stumbled and fell against him. One moment Lady Cressida was walking next to him, and the next her blond hair lay across his chest as she held on to both his arms in almost embracing him.

Oh fo r…

"Lady Cressida, are you hurt?" he asked, forcing himself to sound concerned.

"I don't know. Oh Lord Hatfield, I'm sorry, I don't know what happened," she said, moving her head to look up at him, her arms still holding on to him tightly.

Marcus felt intoxicated for a second or two by the overpowering fragrance of jasmine and sweet vanilla. He breathed in the scent as the woman in his arms looked up at him making eye contact. Deep brown eyes, almost a shade of violet and black with huge, dilated pupils, looking into his.

He became aware of her fingers moving against his arm in an almost rhythmic pattern, and he forced himself to gently move her hands and help her to steady herself again. All this time her voice continued chattering in her high-pitched assault on his ears.

She'd asked him a question, but he had no idea what. "Lord Hatfield," she laughed in that grating tone. "I don't believe you were listening to me."

"I do apologize," he began, and to his relief noticed her mother just ahead of them.

Another question assaulted his ears, something about his preference for a polka or a waltz. He thought wistfully of the melodious voice of Olivia and wondered how soon before they met again.