Eliza Jumel Burr by Diana Rubino

Author:Diana Rubino [Rubino, Diana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Press
Published: 2017-11-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

I parted the stage curtains an eye-width and peeked out. Fashionable theatergoers chatted, coughed and laughed. My pulse pounded. I trembled, but not because it was two minutes to curtain time. I scanned the crowd and peered up at the president’s box.

He’s not here yet. My heart tripped and fell. “Where are you, Papa?” I whispered, released the curtain and on wobbly legs, headed to the stage entrance.

Jane Shore was to run only tonight – and only because Papa wanted to see it. This was my last night on stage – mayhap forever. William understood. He knew I wanted to move on and gave me every assurance I’d succeed. I promised I’d make a guest appearance if he wanted me. But would I have time betwixt wheelings and dealings?

I gave all at my performance, not once looking out there, ’specially at the box. I knew Papa heard every line, saw every gesture, and applauded at the end.

I stepped to the edge of the stage, kissed my palm and raised it high. My eyes spilled over with tears as I looked into the president’s box. “I love you, Papa,” I said out loud, claps and cheers drowning my declaration. He couldn’t read my lips or hear my words. But for the first time in my life, I told my father I loved him – across a packed theatre.

After the play, I changed into my street raiment. As my dresser smoothed my overskirt, a knock sounded at the door. I stiffened and my heart gave a joyous leap. Here he is!

I wrenched the door open. “Oh, it’s you, William.” My heart fell. “What happened this time?”

His sad eyes and grim lips said it all. “I’m sorry, Eliza. President Washington left before I could address him. Senator Schuyler said he had to return to work. He left before curtain call.”

Once again I was that fatherless little girl. But the grown woman in me refused to cry. “Well, at least it wasn’t my fault.”

“Of course not! Don’t be disheartened.” William’s hopeful tone sounded forced. “You’ll meet him someday, I promise.”

I didn’t feel like being surrounded by people. I bade William good eve and climbed into Stephen’s coach. “Back to the residence, Miss Capet?” the coachman asked.

“Yes … no. Take me to Number Ten Gold Street instead.”

****

Aaron smiled as he opened the door, but the smile didn’t touch his eyes.

“I know it’s late, the play just ended, but I had to see you – he wasn’t there. Again. I missed him. He left—” My voice broke.

“Who? Who left?”

I cleared my throat. “My father. William arranged for us to meet backstage and – oh, why bother? All I want is for you to hold me.”

He gathered me into his arms and I let it all out – my longing for him all these months, the father I might never meet, Stephen’s refusal to touch me. Only one thing would comfort me: telling Aaron about the new life we created, the precious boy who waited to meet his own Papa.

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