Chapter 22: “Amateur Play”:
“Or… do you want to go see a play that day?”
This time, there was no doubt that Liri’s interest was caught. Timothy, keenly noticing the brief sparkle in her eyes, continued.
“What kind of play?”
“It’s an amateur play, so it probably won’t be very entertaining. But the venue is magnificent.”
At that, Liri felt her heart flutter slightly.
“Where?”
“Rotunda Hall, of all places. A refined hobby for the nobility. They’re performing on stage themselves to raise funds for the orphanage…”
“Rotunda Hall…”
As Liri echoed the name, Timothy felt her interest growing and eagerly began explaining. The details were just as Liri had heard from Guest 301.
“There will be several nobles gathered. Meanwhile, the Galliard faction, which the Prime Minister belongs to, will hold a vote to appoint him… I need to observe the reactions of the nobles that day.”
“Can someone like me, who wasn’t invited, still go?”
“If I say ‘Mrs. Rutland,’ they wouldn’t even know you’re a maid…”
Timothy realized he had almost said something inappropriate and quickly corrected himself.
“No, I didn’t mean it in a bad way, Liri. I just meant no one goes to watch a play alone.”
At Timothy’s words, Liri walked a little ahead. She fully understood the awkwardness of being among nobles in their extravagant clothing.
Wearing her maid uniform made her feel more at ease. After all, they were supposed to be served by maids, so no one paid her much attention.
Had she worn an old dress among them, the nobles would have cast glances and mocked her without stopping.
“With you?”
Liri tapped the snow piled at the tips of her worn leather shoes. Unlike fine shoes, even a small touch of snow would soak through quickly.
“No one goes there alone. And why I have to go is… not only nobles come, but many politicians as well. I might even get a story out of it. I could write, ‘Nobles put on a terrible play,’ if nothing else.”
“It won’t be terrible.”
Liri smiled. But Timothy didn’t seem to understand the meaning behind her smile.
“So, you’re going with me to see the play?”
“You said you were having dinner with your parents?”
“Well, that can wait a bit… I can be a little late…”
Timothy’s muttering grew increasingly unsure. Seeing his embarrassed expression, Liri finally spoke.
“Alright, Timothy.”
She recalled the serious face of the man delivering his lines.
“Really?”
Timothy double-checked, and Liri nodded firmly. At that moment, Timothy understood why people had called Liri a “dowry.” He only wished her parents would see it the same way.
“I’ll pick you up at the hotel that day.”
The day before Christmas, a heavy snowfall blanketed the capital. Snow clouds from the south covered all of Londinium.
Liri, forgetting the cold, lingered in front of the hotel in a thin dress.
The deep green velvet dress Summer had found for her smelled faintly of naphthalene.
“Liri, sorry I’m late. My parents wouldn’t let me leave… Ah, you look so beautiful!”
Timothy, hurrying to stop the carriage at the hotel entrance, exclaimed as he saw Liri. She blushed and adjusted her hat.
“Really?”
“Anyone who sees you will ask which country’s princess you are.”
Timothy’s brazen compliments caused Liri’s cheeks to flush a deep rose.
Observing her golden hair elegantly pinned without a bonnet, Timothy said again:
“You’re truly beautiful. No one in the capital could be more beautiful than you.”
“Doesn’t it smell a bit of mothballs? It’s been in the closet for quite a while,” Liri sniffed at the dress, and Timothy tilted his head.
“You always smell good to me.”
She laughed off the unexpected compliment as a joke.
“Timothy Rutland, I’ll believe the words of a journalist who only reports the facts.”
Due to the snow, they arrived at Rotunda Hall rather late. Everyone else had already entered, and the hall was quiet in front of them.
Normally, only very important people frequented this place. As they climbed the red-carpeted steps, Liri had to be careful not to trip on her skirt.
“Hold my hand.”
Timothy grasped her gloved hand and led her briskly up the steps.
“They say the Queen held her wedding here with her husband.”
“The place I know with the most stairs is Belmore Hotel… This is really huge. Ah, my dress keeps catching.”
Liri clutched Timothy’s hand tightly, afraid of falling. Finally, they reached the entrance and handed over their tickets. The attendant at the door bowed politely.
“Are you Mr. Timothy Rutland and the lady accompanying him? These tickets were sent by Congressman Gordon.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“The performance began twenty minutes ago.”
Their seats were at the very back. The stage was barely visible, and if the person in front was tall, half the stage might be blocked.
“This way, please.”
Nobles never rushed, so Liri tried not to stumble.
“Why did Congressman Gordon send you the tickets?”
Liri remembered the terrible cookie incident and asked Timothy, but he unusually ignored her question.
“Shh! Liri, it’s about to start.”
She carefully settled into her seat, barely avoiding stepping on her long dress multiple times.
The first act was already underway. On stage, a couple met for the first time under the moonlight. The blue light fell gracefully on the head of the man standing on the lavishly decorated stage.
Cecil Hobart’s gaze was not on the stage but on the box seats opposite.
Belmore had not invited her to sit in the family-designated seat, which remained empty.
Cecil was frustrated but forced herself to sit as if unaware. The young ladies gave her curious glances, and she accepted their attention as a chance to see better.
“The heroine is terrible? She sounds like a commoner, not someone who lived abroad.”
Florence whispered behind her fan, but if not for that, Cecil might have missed the first act entirely, glaring at the empty box.
“That girl they left in the countryside because the Evans couple are weak—is that her?”
“Cecil, I don’t believe that. I heard she’s an illegitimate child. Her speech makes her sound like she’s from the outskirts of Londinium.”
“Well, we’ll see if she’s invited to a tea party,” Cecil said, satisfied with Florence’s gossip. She had been anxious about Rose Evans, who had been cast as Christopher’s partner, but this was reassuring.
“Cecil, why are you not watching the play and staring over there?”
Florence asked. Cecil whispered directly into her ear.
“Look at her! She’s fumbling her lines. If the Evans couple didn’t want to embarrass their daughter, they shouldn’t have let her perform.”
Cecil returned her gaze to the stage, coldly watching the girl trembling like a little mouse.
In contrast, Lord Belmore performed flawlessly, not due to practice but because of his natural charm. His voice and movements were captivatingly effortless.
“Cecil, once the plebeian vote ends today, will the engagement date be set immediately?”
Florence also couldn’t look away. Even though he was a friend’s fiancé, her attention was instinctive.
Cecil enjoyed that feeling. Being the object of desire, to become someone others envied, was more thrilling than having a father as Prime Minister.
“Probably?”
Cecil fiddled with the necklace he had given her. A man who gives such jewelry wouldn’t fail to propose.
“The adults will handle it. I don’t know,” Cecil said nonchalantly.
Florence seemed slightly impressed.
“If it were me, I would have already chosen a dress.”
“Shouldn’t social debut come first?”
“After the engagement, no one can object if you dance three times with Lord Belmore at the debutante ball.”
Florence couldn’t hide her envy.
“What do you mean? You have to dance fairly. Just because I’m his fiancée doesn’t mean I should hog him the whole time.”
Cecil tried to embody the elegance and generosity that her father lacked. She observed Lord Belmore, mimicking his calm demeanor and subtle gestures, making her heart flutter.
To her, apart from the Queen, no noble seemed as graceful as Lord Belmore, the very essence of blue blood.
“Don’t you feel jealous? If it were me, just seeing him on stage with another woman would make me furious.”
“Lord Belmore didn’t want to be on stage. If it weren’t for helping the orphanage, he wouldn’t have,” Cecil explained.
Florence looked impressed. Having Florence’s chatter contained was satisfying. In a week, rumors about Rose Evans and her engagement would spread among the young ladies.
She only hoped Florence didn’t notice that she wasn’t sitting in Lord Belmore’s private box. Cecil made her final point:
“Shall we leave first when the stage ends? I have something to discuss with Lord Belmore.”
Seeing Cecil fan herself slightly, pretending to be warm, Florence smirked mischievously and nodded.
