It was only later, when the interval began, that she leaned back in her chair and sighed. "Oh," she said, "have you ever seen anything more wonderful in your life?" It was clear that four of her companions had not. They were all eager to talk, to exchange impressions, their voices bright with enthusiasm. Even Meg's smile looked genuine. "I suppose," Vanessa said, turning to Elliott, who had not joined in the hubbub, "you have seen a thousand performances just like this and have become quite jaded." "One never becomes jaded by good theater," he said. "And is this good?" Katherine asked. "It is," he said. "And I agree with everything that has been said during the past minute. If you wish, we may all step outside the box to stretch our legs before the next act begins." The corridor outside was crowded and noisy as people greeted one another and commented upon the performance.
Elliott introduced his party to a few of his acquaintances, and Vanessa was gratified to note the interest with which everyone greeted Stephen as soon as they knew who he was. Even in such a glittering setting he looked bright and golden and handsome, she thought fondly - and very youthful. More than a few ladies stole second and even third glances at him.
And then Constantine appeared among the throng. He must have circled half about the theater with the express purpose of greeting them. He had on his arm the lady who had been sitting beside him in his box. She was extremely lovely, Vanessa noticed with interest. She had shining blond hair and a figure to rival even Meg's. "Ah, cousins," Constantine said when he was close enough to make himself heard. "Well met." They all exclaimed with delight - except Elliott, of course, who made a stiff halfbow.
Cecily squealed with delight and caught his free arm and clung to it. /"Con!" /she cried. "Is this not /wonderful /? I am /so /happy you are here. You must not forget my come-out ball tomorrow evening. You promised me a set." "I believe, Cece," he said, "it was /I /who begged /you /for a set. I will hold you to your promise to reserve one for me, though. Doubtless you will be swarmed by young cubs when the time comes. And so will my cousin Katherine." He grinned at Kate and even winked. "Lady Lyngate, Miss Huxtable, Miss Katherine Huxtable, Miss Wallace, Merton," Constantine continued, "may I have the pleasure of introducing Mrs. Bromley-Hayes to you? I believe you and the lady have an acquaintance already, Elliott." There was an exchange of bows and curtsies and polite greetings. She was a married lady, then, Vanessa thought. Or perhaps a widow. She and Constantine made an extraordinarily handsome couple. "My congratulations to you, Lord Merton," the lady said, "on your recent inheritance. And to you, Lord and Lady Lyngate, on your recent marriage.
I wish you all the happiness you deserve." She had a low, musical voice. She was smiling at Elliott and wafting a fan languidly before her face. It must be very pleasurable, Vanessa thought, to be that beautiful. "I say," Stephen said, "have you ever seen a more impressive performance than this?" They talked about the play until it was time to return to their respective boxes.
Elliott did not take her hand again, Vanessa noticed. His eyes were like flint, and his jaw was hard set. He drummed his fingers slowly on the velvet armrest of the box. "What were we expected to do?" she asked him softly. "Ignore our own cousin when he was civil enough to come around to greet us?" He turned his eyes on her. "I have not uttered one word of reproach," he told her. "You do not need to," she said, unfurling her fan and cooling her face with it. "You look thoroughly bad-tempered. Whatever would Mrs.
Bromley-Hayes have thought if we had given them the cut direct?" "I would not know," he said. "I am not privy to the lady's thoughts." "Is she a widow?" she asked him. "She is," he said. "But it is quite unexceptionable, you know, for married ladies to be escorted to social events by gentlemen who are not their husbands." "Is it?" she said. "Must I cultivate the acquaintance of some obliging gentleman, then, so that you may be saved the bother of taking me to the museum and Gunter's and the theater and other places?" "Who said it was a bother?" He removed his hand from the armrest and turned to her. He set her hand on his sleeve again and patted it with his own. "Are you trying to provoke me into a quarrel, by any chance?" "I prefer your irritability to your coldness," she said, and smiled at him. "And I have only the two moods, do I?" he asked her. "Poor Vanessa.
However are you to make such a man happy? Or comfortable? However are you to give him pleasure?" He was looking very directly at her with what she thought of as his bedroom eyes. His eyelids were half drooped over them. She felt a thrill of sexual awareness, which had seemed somewhat pointless since the end of their honeymoon. "Oh, I will think of ways," she said, leaning a little toward him. "I am endlessly inventive." "Ah," he said softly just before the play resumed.
She enjoyed the rest of the performance. She watched it with avid attention. But she was no longer as absorbed in it as she had been earlier. She was terribly aware, though she did not once turn her head to look, of her husband's fingers stroking lightly over the back of her hand and sometimes along the full length of one of her fingers.
She desperately wanted to be in bed with him - though bed since their honeymoon had lasted for five minutes from start to finish, if that.
Had he been flirting with her just now?
It was a ludicrous idea. Why would Elliot of all people flirt with /her/?
But what else could he have been up to except flirtation?
18
AFTER dismissing his valet for the night, Elliott stood for a long time in his bedchamber, looking out through the window onto darkness, the fingers of one hand drumming on the windowsill. A night watchman made his round of the square, his lantern swaying as he walked. Then he passed on elsewhere and again there was darkness.
Elliott wondered if it had been deliberate. It was just the sort of thing Con /would /do. It was the sort of thing they might have done together once upon a time, during Elliott's irresponsible youth.
Afterward they would have derived enormous amusement from the memory of the discomfiture of their victim. Though he could not remember anytime when they had been deliberately malicious, involving an innocent who might get seriously hurt. /Would /Vanessa be hurt? He suspected that she might.
How could Con have known, though, that they would be at the theater this evening? Elliott had not known himself before making the impulsive suggestion at the end of the morning's outing.
But of course Con had /not /known for sure. He could have made several educated guesses, however, of places Elliott and Vanessa were likely to appear over the next week or so. It certainly would have been no secret that they were in London. If they had not been at the theater this evening, then they would surely be at this function or that soon.
Yes, it had been deliberate. Of course it had. Had there really been any doubt?
Had it been deliberate on Anna Bromley-Hayes's part too, though? That was the more pertinent question.
But if it had not been, why had she come during the interval to meet his party and be introduced to his wife? If it had not been deliberate, would she not have avoided such a painful encounter?
Yes. It had been deliberate. He would have expected better of her but had no right to demand it. He had undoubtedly hurt her. He had disregarded her feelings and presented her with a fait accompli quite without prior warning.
And good Lord, was this Vanessa's influence, this new tendency of his to analyze everything, to wonder about people's /feelings/?
However it was, his wife and his ex-mistress had not only come face-to-face but had also been introduced. It had been an excruciatingly embarrassing moment for him and doubtless equally intriguing to a number of the onlookers.
All of which Con would have known in advance. And Anna too.