julia by Stone Claudia

Author:Stone, Claudia
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

The Theatre Royal in Covent Garden was filled with the great and good of London Town. As Julia took her seat in the box, she cast a glance around her and spotted no less than three viscounts, two earls, and a marquess in attendance.

"It is quite the coup, to have a box for tonight's performance," Lord Pariseau whispered in Julia's ear, for the third time.

"Did you rent it especially?" Julia queried innocently, and Pariseau flushed.

"Well," he blustered, "Not specifically for tonight, but rather for all of the season."

So hardly a coup, Julia thought, though she remained silent for there was no need to quibble over semantics.

"It is kind of you to have invited us," she offered instead, unable to use the singular "me", for it felt too intimate. And, indeed, it was not only Julia who was in attendance; Lady Cavendish, Lady Pariseau—the earl's widowed mama—and Maria were also in attendance.

"I could not imagine watching such a romantic play, with anyone bar you, my lady," Pariseau gallantly replied.

Oh dear, Julia frowned, she hoped the earl would not go mushy on her. She could tolerate many things, but flowery prose was not one of them.

"I have always wondered why people love this story so," Julia replied, as she settled herself into her seat, "When it ends in the death of two young lovers."

"That is a very prosaic summary," Pariseau offered her a grin, "It is not about the end, but the journey to it. I think the audience delights in the hope of it all—the hope that these two star-crossed lovers might make it to their happily ever after."

"But they don't; they die," Julia was dry.

"Yes," the earl gave a chuckle, "But that is Shakespeare's genius; to offer hope and then snatch it away in the final act. I agree, it is not very romantic, but it makes for good theatre."

"Indeed," Julia nodded, unable to add any more to their chatter.

She did not like all this talk of hoping and wishing for the success of two star-crossed lovers, for her own heart had been filled with hope since Aunt Phoebe had mentioned the flying blunderbuss.

Hope is nought but a waking dream, Julia told herself firmly, as she concentrated on making small-talk with Lord Pariseau. It was foolish to wish for Lord Montague, when they were as star-crossed as the characters upon the stage. It was foolish to hope that, despite her cross words, he was out there, plotting something foolish and daring that might take her breath away.

Lord Montague was not her future, Pariseau was, and she would do well to remember it.

"Lud," Pariseau said, drawing Julia's attention away from her inner plight, "Is that Montague?"

"I beg your pardon?" Julia stammered, wondering for a moment if Pariseau was able to read her mind, but then she turned to the direction in which he was pointing, and saw just why the earl had blurted out Montague's name.

Across the way, in the best box in the house, sat Lord Montague alongside six or seven.

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