“But the ideals of the Round Table were still the finest,” she said gently. “And Galahad was without sin, or he would never have seen the Holy Grail. The thing is, one may find the good and the bad together, professing the same beliefs; all of us have weaknesses, vulnerabilities, and most of us have a tendency to see what we want to in others, most especially others we admire.”
Eustace hesitated.
She looked at his face, his eyes, and saw for a moment his struggle to understand what she really meant, then he abandoned it and settled for the simple answer.
“Of course, dear lady, that is undoubtedly true.” He turned to Vespasia, who had been listening without comment. “Who is that remarkable woman in the box next to Lord Riverdale? I have never seen such unusual eyes. They should be handsome, they are so large, and yet they are not, I declare.”
Vespasia followed his gaze, and saw Christabel Thorne, sitting beside Jeremiah and talking to him with animation. He was listening with his gaze never wavering from her face, and with not only affection but very apparent interest.
Vespasia told Eustace who they were. Then she pointed out Harriet Soames in company with her father, and also displaying a most open affection and pride.
It was only a few moments after that when there was something of a stir in the audience. Several heads turned and there was a cessation of general whispering, but also a sudden swift commenting one to another.
“The Prince of Wales?” Eustace wondered with a touch of excitement in his voice. As a strict moralist he would have disapproved unequivocally of the Prince of Wales’s behavior in anyone else. But princes were different. One did not judge them by the standards of ordinary men. At least Eustace did not.
“No,” Vespasia said rather tartly. She applied the same standards to all; princes were not exempt, and she was also fond of the Princess. “The Secretary of State of Colonial Affairs, Mr. Linus Chancellor, and his wife, and I believe her brother-in-law, Mr. Francis Standish.”
“Oh.” Eustace was not sure whether he was interested or not.
Charlotte had no such doubts. Ever since she and Pitt had seen Susannah Chancellor at the Duchess of Marlborough’s reception, she had found her of great interest, and overhearing her discussion with Kreisler at the Shakespearean bazaar had naturally added to it. She watched them take their seats, Chancellor attentive, courteous, but with the ease of one who is utterly comfortable in a marriage while still finding it of intense pleasure. Charlotte found herself smiling as she watched, and knowing precisely what Susannah felt with her turning of the head to accept his rearranging of the shawl across her chair, the smile on his lips, the momentary meeting of the eyes.
The lights dimmed and the music of the national anthem began. There was no more time for wandering attention.
When the applause died down and the first interval commenced it was a different matter.
Eustace turned to Charlotte. “And how is your family?” he enquired, but out of politeness, and to preempt any return to the subject of King Arthur, or any other society, past or present.
“They are all well, thank you,” she replied.
“Emily?” he pressed.
“Abroad. Parliament is in recess.”
“Indeed. And your mama?”
“Traveling also.” She did not add that it was on honeymoon. That would be altogether too much for Eustace to cope with. She saw a twitch of laughter in Vespasia’s mouth, and looked away. “Grandmama has moved into Ashworth House with Emily,” she continued hastily. “Although of course she has no one there but the servants at present. She does not care for it at all.”
“Quite.” Eustace had the feeling that something had passed him by, but he preferred not to investigate it. “Would you care for some refreshment?” he offered gallantly.
Vespasia accepted, then Charlotte felt free to do so too. Obediently Eustace rose and took his leave to obtain it for them.
Charlotte and Vespasia glanced at each other, then both turned and looked, as discreetly as possible, at Linus and Susannah Chancellor. Francis Standish had gone, but there was nevertheless a third person in the box, and from the outline, quite obviously a man, tall, slender, of a very upright and military bearing.
“Kreisler,” Charlotte whispered.
“I think so,” Vespasia agreed.
A moment later as he half turned to speak to Susannah, they were proved right.
They could not possibly overhear the conversation, yet watching the expressions in their faces it was possible to draw very many conclusions.
Kreisler was naturally civil to Chancellor, but there was a pronounced coolness in both men, presumably due to their acknowledged political differences. Chancellor stood close to his wife, as though automatically including her in the opinions or arguments he expressed. Kreisler was not quite opposite them, a little to one side, so his face was invisible to Charlotte and Vespasia. He addressed Susannah with a sharpness of attention far more than mere good manners required, and seemed to direct his reasoning towards her rather than Chancellor, even though it was almost always Chancellor who answered.
Once or twice Charlotte noticed Susannah begin to speak, and Chancellor cut in with a reply, including her with a quick look or a gesture of the hand.
Again Kreisler would retort, always as much to her as to him.
Neither Charlotte nor Vespasia said anything, but Charlotte’s mind was full of conjecture when Eustace returned. She thanked him almost absently, and sat with her drink, deep in thought, until the lights dimmed and the drama onstage recommenced.
During the second interval they left the box and went out into the foyer, where Vespasia was instantly greeted by several acquaintances, one in particular, an elderly marchioness in vivid green, with whom she spoke for some time.
Charlotte was very happy to spend her time merely watching, again finding a most absorbing subject in Linus and Susannah Chancellor and Mr. Francis Standish. She was most interested when she observed Chancellor’s attention distracted for several minutes, and Standish alone with Susannah seeming to be arguing with her. From the expression on her face, she stood her ground, and he glanced angrily more than once in the direction of the far side of the foyer where Peter Kreisler was standing.
Once he took Susannah by the arm, and she shook him off impatiently. However when Chancellor returned Standish seemed to be quite satisfied that he had won, and led the way back towards their box. Chancellor smiled at Susannah with amusement and affection, and offered her his arm. She took it, moving closer to him, but there seemed to be a distress in her, some shadow across her face which haunted Charlotte so deeply she was unable to rid herself of it and enter into the rest of the play.
The next day was gusty but fine, and a little after mid-morning Vespasia ordered her carriage to take her to Hyde Park. It was not necessary to stipulate that it must be near the corner by the Albert Memorial. There was only the choice between that and Marble Arch if one were to meet the members of Society who customarily took their morning rides or walks in the park. In the walk between the Albert and Grosvenor Gate one could meet everyone in Society who had elected to take the air.
Vespasia would have been perfectly happy anywhere, but she had come specifically to find Bertie Canning, an admirer. At the theater last evening her friend the marchioness had mentioned that he had a vast knowledge of people, especially those whose fame or notoriety rested on exploits in the greater part of the Empire, rather than in the confines of England. If anyone could tell her what she now quite urgently desired to know about Peter Kreisler, it was he.
She did not wish to ride: she could too easily miss Canning, and it offered no opportunity for conversation. She alighted and walked slowly and with the utmost elegance towards one of the many seats along the north side of the Row. Naturally, it was the fashionable side, where she would be able to watch in reasonable comfort as the world passed by. It was an entertainment she would enjoy at any time, even were there no purpose to it, but her observations last night, coupled with what she had overheard at the bazaar, had woken in her an anxiety she wished to satisfy as soon as possible.
She was dressed in her favorite silver-gray with touches of slate blue, and a hat of the very latest fashion. It
