Seven Dials Page 0,81

far from easy.

She saw Garrick at the same moment that Theloneus did.

"Forward?" he said gently; it was only half a question.

"I'm afraid so," she replied, and taking his arm she started to urge her way through the crowd.

However, by the time they reached Garrick he was very obviously engaged in a conversation with an extremely conservative bishop for whom Vespasia could not even pretend to have a warmth of regard. Three times she drew breath to enter the conversation, and then found the comment dead on her tongue. There were degrees of hypocrisy she could not achieve, even in the best of causes. She felt rather than saw Theloneus's amusement beside her.

"There will be two intervals," he said in little above a whisper as Garrick and the bishop moved away and it was time to take their own seats.

The opera was a baroque masterpiece full of subtlety and light, but it had not the familiar melodies, the passion and lyricism of the Verdi she loved. She occupied her mind with plans for the first interval. She could not afford to wait until the second, in case some mischance should make visiting Garrick impossible. He might become involved in an encounter she could not decently join. Some degree of subtlety was required. He was no fonder of her than she of him.

When the curtain came down to enthusiastic applause she was on her feet as if risen spontaneously.

"I didn't know you liked it so much," Theloneus said in surprise. "You didn't look as if you did."

"I don't," she replied, disconcerted that he had been watching her and not the stage; in honesty she had nearly forgotten how deep his feeling was for her. "I wish to visit Garrick before he leaves his box," she explained. "And preferably before someone else dominates any discussion."

"If the bishop is there, I shall engage him in persuading me into one of his opinions," Theloneus offered with a wry smile, his eyes soft with laughter. He was aware of the sacrifice he was making, and that she was also.

"'Greater love hath no man,'" she murmured. "I shall be in your debt."

"You will," he agreed fervently.

And his intervention proved necessary. Vespasia almost collided with the bishop outside Garrick's box.

"Good evening, Your Grace," she said with a freezing smile. "How pleasant to see you able to find an opera whose story does not offend your morals."

Since the tale in question was one of incest and murder, the observation was of the utmost sarcasm, and she regretted it the minute it was past her lips, even before she heard Theloneus choke off laughter and turn it into a cough, and saw the bishop's face turn a dull shade of purple.

"Good evening, Lady Vespasia," he replied coldly. "It is Lady Vespasia Cumming-Gould, is it not?" He knew perfectly well who she was, everyone did. It was intended as an insult.

She smiled charmingly at him, a look that in her prime had dazzled princes.

"It is," she replied. "May I introduce you to Mr. Justice Quade?" She waved her hand delicately. "The Bishop of Putney, I believe, or some such place, renowned for his upholding of Christian virtues, most particularly purity of mind."

"Indeed," Theloneus murmured. "How do you do." An expression of great interest filled his ascetic face, his blue eyes mild and bright. "How fortunate for me to have encountered you. I should dearly like your opinion, as an informed and, of course, enlightened source, on the choice of story for this very lovely music. Is watching such fearful behavior instructive, in that evil is punished in the end? Or do you fear that the beauty with which it is presented may corrupt the senses before the better judgment can perceive the moral behind it?"

"Well..." the bishop began.

Vespasia did not remain. She tapped on the door of Garrick's box, and the moment it was answered, went inside. She was dreading it. It was going to be forced, because they both knew that she would not have sought him out from friendship, and they had no interests in common.

Garrick was a widower and he had a small party with him, his sister and her husband, who was a minor banker of some sort, and a friend of theirs, a widow from one of the home counties up to London for some reason. It was she who provided Vespasia with her excuse.

"Lady Vespasia?" Garrick raised his eyebrows very slightly. It was a good deal less than an expression of welcome. "How delightful to