Soon the coach pulled up at the theatre.
She was unprepared for the grandeur of the Theatre Royal with its fancy gilded boxes climbing the wall. Red flocked paper with an Egyptian pattern covered the walls, and crimson curtains festooned with thick gold fringe hung at each box. She was even more joyful when she learned that the Appleton family had its own box.
They took their seats on the front row of the box where a shiny brass rail offered an extra protection against falling into the pit. The Appleton box had a prime view of the stage below.
“Will anyone be joining us?” she asked.
“No, it will just be the two of us. When my other sisters are in town, the box becomes overrun with them and their friends.”
“A pity Papa didn’t come with us. We could have asked the elder Mrs. Blankenship to share our box, too.”
Forrester smiled. “That would undoubtedly have made your father happy.”
“So his partiality toward the widow has not escaped your notice, either?”
He chuckled. “Hardly.” He took her hand. “I want you all to myself.”
She felt the same but was too proud or possibly too shy to admit it.
“Have you seen Shakespeare performed before?”
Her brows hiked. “What do you think?” She was attempting to act normal, though since their hands had clasped, her fluttering chest seemed to be expanding.
“I think it unlikely to have been performed in rural Lincolnshire.”
“Clever man.”
“And do you appreciate Shakespeare?”
“I do, and it’s impossible for me to convey to you how greatly I’m looking forward to tonight’s play.”
Soon the candles were extinguished, and the curtain went up. Her breath caught over the rich silks of the Elizabethan costumes in bright reds and greens. She quickly became engrossed in the plot, in every nuance of the dialogue, in the sheer pleasure she received from watching this delightful comedy.
How happy she was that she would be marrying and settling in Bath where such delights as the theatre, musicals, and assemblies were held throughout the year. Even simple acts like walking from her house to Forrester’s provided a diversity of people and conveyances and architecture like she’d never before known.
At the same time, it shamed her to admit she never again wanted to live at Blandings. She would miss the villagers and her family’s servants she’d known all her life, but she would never miss the monotony of the days.
No wonder she’d become so attached to her cats! As much as she loved her kitties, she thought as she squeezed her betrothed’s strong hand, they did not compare to people and would never be able to compete with the man she would marry. How strange it seemed that a month ago she knew not of his existence, and now the thought of not spending her life with him was unbearable. How could she have fallen in love so thoroughly in so short a time?
During the intermission after the third act, Glee Blankenship and her mother-in-law came to their box. “And where is your dear father?” the elder Mrs. Blankenship asked as she came to sit on the other side of Dot.
Dot felt guilty she’d not even thought to ask her father. How he would have welcomed the opportunity to see Mrs. Blankenship. “Knowing that my Papa is no great fan of the bard, I neglected to invite him.” That much was true.
“Typical man,” Mrs. Blankenship said. “I suppose he’d rather be playing whist.”
That gave Dot an idea. She nodded. “I should love to have a gathering at our house that would indulge my father’s interest in whist. Do you play?” she asked the older woman.
“I adore whist, and I should welcome any invitation that would include me in an evening of whist, especially with your delightful father.”
That Mrs. Blankenship obviously returned Mr. Pankhurst’s affection pleased Dot. Her own betrothal had presented the problem of leaving her father alone at Blandings, a most distasteful prospect. She would have been happy to have her father live with her and Forrester, but her father, quite naturally, preferred his own home, a home he was proud of and which had belonged to the Pankhurst family for well over two hundred years.
While the women chatted, Forrester rose and went to speak with Blanks, who’d come into the box after the women.
At the end of the intermission, the Blankenships returned to their own box.
When the play ended, Dot joined the audience in clapping heartily for the excellent cast. She turned to Forrester. “This has been wonderful! I shall never forget this night and seeing my first production of Shakespeare.”
He lifted her hand and kissed it. “It’s merely the first of many.”
Outside, it had begun to rain. She was thankful they’d come in Forrester’s coach and happy to see his coach awaiting. Inside the dark cubicle, he gathered her close. She could have sighed with deep contentment.
“I’ve spoken with Annie about the inquiries you and I have been making about Ellie Macintosh’s murder,” he said.
“Allow me to guess. She wishes to join us in our queries.”
“Of course. You two think entirely too much alike.”
“She is to be my sister.”
He squeezed her hand. “Tomorrow the three of us will go speak with Ellie’s friend Maryann. Sir Elvin found out for us where she lives and told her to be expecting a visit from me.”
“She knows you?”
“Seeing that she works at Mrs. Starr’s and seeing that I have been playing there since I came down from Oxford, yes.”
They’d not gone far when he pressed a kiss onto her cheek. She felt as if an explosion occurred inside her chest.
Is he going to kiss me again? Her heartbeat roared, and she was filled with trepidation, worried
