A Chance to Dream

by Lynne Connolly

  The boxes were only half full, but most of the fashionable world would arrive later. The great auditorium was lit by a huge chandelier, which must have taken at least three men to lower for the candles to be lit each evening. Separate lights glowed in all the occupied boxes, but they could be extinguished at the owner’s whim. Very few did, for above all, this was a place to see and be seen. Lady Perdita was lifted into her seat at the front of the box and Violetta moved forward to help her arrange her skirts in a becoming manner. The expensive satin flowed around her, gleaming in a liquid way under the warm glow of candlelight. As Violetta expected, Lady Judith settled herself next to Lord Blyth. Violetta moved to the back of the box, next to the footman commanded to stay in case anyone should need anything.

  Then she saw them. Almost immediately across the expanse of the theatre, her mother’s box. It was one Violetta had graced as La Perla Perfetta, but until she sat down she had not realized they were so unfortunately placed. The lights in the box were on. Someone was expected tonight. Her heart sank.

  Violetta hardly noticed the performance begin. Her attention was riveted on the box, waiting. Perhaps her mother had rented the box out. She charged a small fortune for the use of it, and even more if she attended to give a cachet to whoever had rented it. The box was as notorious as La Perla herself. No respectable person would dream of renting it.

  Violetta was not the only person to notice where they were situated. “Perhaps you should obtain another box next season,” Lady Judith suggested.

  Lord Blyth stretched his arm lazily along the seat. “I don’t know. I rather enjoy the view. This box has a premium attached to it.” He turned his face innocently to his companion’s. “One has such a clear view of the stage from here.”

  She met his gaze. “I feel sure your wife will not approve.”

  “Ah but you see,” came the soft rejoinder, “I’m not married.”

  Lady Judith smiled and turned her attention pointedly to the stage.

  Someone entered the box opposite. It was the worst. It was Violetta’s mother and four other ladies. Violetta knew all of them.

  They made a fuss arranging themselves in their seats. The gentleman whose good fortune it was to accompany them enjoyed himself hugely, touching a white arm here, settling a gauzy scarf there. Violetta was not sure which lady he was playing for, but it wasn’t her mother, for in a few moments Lord Ripley entered the box. He glanced around, and then over to where Lord Blyth’s party sat. He stiffened, so slightly that anyone watching wouldn’t have noticed, and then looked away. It would not have been appropriate for him to acknowledge any respectable women present, much less his daughter. He moved to the back of the box, directly behind La Perla’s chair.

  Violetta tore her gaze away and deliberately took in the rest of the company. She recognized many of the audience by sight, but she had only spoken to the male half. There was a face she thought she recognized. Yes, she was sure of it. Under an elaborate headdress of nodding plumes, she saw Lady Ripley.

  Lady Ripley was tall, elegant and considered herself a great beauty. To Violetta’s discerning eye, she missed it by a whisker. Her skin was flawed, although it could not be seen at this distance under all the make-up she wore, and her eyes were too small. Violetta knew her history and was not surprised to see a young man at her side, assiduously attending to her needs. Husband and wife ignored each other through the evening, but since this was hardly a new start it didn’t create a sensation. The Ripleys were not the only couple who met rarely and went their own ways. It was a sad comment on a society that considered marriage a business contract and nothing more, but only outsiders like Violetta seemed to notice.

  Violetta was glad Lord Ripley had found a measure of happiness with her mother. She knew her mother was as devoted to him as he was to her, but in the past she’d had her living to earn and had been forced into pragmatism. Usually a courtesan was owned by one man at a time, but anyone who wanted to enjoy La Perla’s favours had to endure the knowledge that Lord Ripley was a constant in her life. Such was La Perla’s fame and skill that most had put up with it.

  Her mother was an expert. She never once looked in the direction of Lord Blyth’s box. Unfortunately this gave the ladies an opportunity to study the occupants of the box opposite at their leisure. Lady Perdita spread her fan and traced the pattern with a gentle finger. “It passes my understanding how women like that can enter the same establishment as respectable females.”

  Violetta glanced up at the raucous crowd in the gods. Many of those women would consider themselves respectable, superior to her mother and her kind. They dressed in filthy clothes, had no idea how to behave in good company, might not be able to read, but they were better. Better because they were married to the man they spent their nights with. Better because they wheedled and persuaded their money out of their men instead of making an honest bargain.

  Violetta turned back to the stage, but she couldn’t work up any interest for the opera. It was a particularly busy night and no one was taking much notice of the musicians. At least they would be paid for their efforts.

  Her glance strayed back to the box, and the increasingly cruel comments of the ladies would not be shut out. “How do they do it?”

  “What?”

  “Take a man a night.”

  Lady Perdita pursed her pretty lips. “I don’t think single ladies should know much about that, Judith.”

  “Oh stuff!” Lady Judith waved her fan in the general direction of the box. “Whatever their airs and pretensions, they’re common doxies.”

  Violetta bit her lower lip to stop the tears. It was not the first time she had heard that. It was not the first time she had wept over it, either. She had rarely felt so miserable, forced to sit and listen.

  “They dress rather well, though.”

  “They have to.” Lady Judith sounded almost vehement. “It’s their livelihood.” She shot a poisonous glance over to the box, where the occupants seemed to be enjoying themselves. She did not acknowledge her father. “I would hate to be forced to dress provocatively every day, instead of in something of my own choice.”

  “And to be forced to take whomever offers.”

  “I think you may be labouring under a slight misapprehension, my dear,” Lord Blyth put in smoothly. “Those ladies are at the top of their profession. They are in a position to choose their partners.”

  “They’ll die of an unmentionable disease.” Lady Judith certainly knew a lot about that particular profession. Then Violetta remembered that she seemed to know a lot about musicians, too, from her conversation of the day before. Shopkeepers also seemed to be an area of study for her, from what she remembered of the visit to Cerisot’s. Lady Judith must be a natural scholar, Violetta concluded acidly. Lady Judith leaned closer to her friend. “I did hear tell that before she died, Katherine Taylor’s nose was eaten up by disease.”

  A delicious shudder passed through Lady Perdita. Violetta hated to spoil their fun by reminding them that Miss Taylor had died from the ague. It had been a time of sadness, when the lively, beautiful girl had died so young.

  “Do you know any of the women?” Lady Perdita asked.

  All of them, thought Violetta.

  “The old one in the middle is La Perla. It is said she has gone into retirement now, but she continues to take my father away from my mother’s bed.” Violetta felt mildly shocked that Lady Judith should put it so crudely. She suspected Lord Ripley would not have accompanied La Perla tonight, had he known his daughter would be in the opposite box, having more delicacy of feeling than Lady Judith.

  “He must be very rich to be able to afford two such expensive women.”

  “For shame, Perdita! You are speaking of my father!”

  “I only speak as you do, and only en famille.” Lady Perdita laughed. Violetta couldn’t remember when she had last heard her mistress laugh. She didn’t think it was only the conversation, but the knowledge that her confidence was returning, that she belonged o
nce more. Violetta realized with a pang that she would not be needed much longer.

  It was what she had wanted, to see Lady Perdita on her feet again and then to shake the dust off her own feet and start her new life, free from fear. Or at least, that’s what she told herself. Now she was reluctant to go, and although she didn’t like it, she knew why. She watched the cause of her discomfort. Their affair had not passed beyond kisses, and perhaps it was wiser if it did not, but she would miss him.

  Lady Judith leaned forward, and spoke behind her fan. “I have heard that La Perla Perfetta, the daughter, is to enter the demi-monde. It is clear she has taken lovers before, of course, but she is to enter publicly, as the woman to take her mother’s place.”

  “Really?” came the excited whisper. “Which gentleman is to take her?”

  “She’s been taken,” someone replied. Violetta felt rather than saw Lord Blyth stiffen. There seemed to be a rope, taut between them, joining them.

  Then it fell away when Lady Judith said, “I didn’t hear that. I did hear there was a contest between several gentlemen. One thousand guineas was paid for her!”

  Not if she could help it, Violetta reflected. She had lost that money when he recognized her and she lost her reputation to him. Now it was assumed that La Perla Perfetta had entered her mother’s world. Violetta wondered what she would find when she returned to her mother’s house. Before now, it was assumed that although she may have taken a few lovers, she was not wholly in her mother’s world. Now, after the display last week, she was.

  Lady Perdita laughed. “How can a woman sell herself for such a paltry sum?”

  “Once,” his lordship reminded her, “I only had a hundred guineas to my name. A thousand guineas is a great deal of money for one night of pleasure.”

  “One night?” Lady Judith turned a beady, inquisitive eye upon his lordship. “You were there?”

  He didn’t admit it, or deny it. “It was all round the clubs and coffee houses the next day.”

  “I thought you went to hear the latest stock prices, and the political news?” Lady Perdita teased.

  He smiled at his sister. “One can’t talk finance and politics all the time. There has to be some light relief.” If truth be told, it was mostly light relief, leavened by the serious matters. Violetta heard the gentlemen chatting in her mother’s salon and doubted it was any different in the coffee houses.

  He had not succeeded in turning the subject. The ladies continued to discuss the occupants of the box opposite. Violetta caught a small movement from behind Lady Judith’s head. His hand, motioning a message to her. She hoped it was comfort. That was what she needed.

  It seemed an eternity to the interval, but it could not have been very long. Violetta stood up to attend to Lady Perdita. From across the way a pair of violet eyes looked up. Mother and daughter let their gazes meet, and then looked away. In that brief exchange La Perla had made her displeasure known; Violetta was demeaning herself by serving another woman. She excused herself and went to find an empty retiring room.

  By dint of a coin pressed into the hand of a willing attendant Violetta gained the use of a small room, at the other end of the corridor to the box. The room was tiny, containing a chamber pot, a spotted mirror and a small sofa. Not large enough for a comfortable assignation, but that was not why she wanted it.

  A few moments that seemed more precious than anything else at that moment. Time to reconcile herself to the forthcoming entertainment.

  She was not to have her few minutes. Without warning the door opened to admit Lord Blyth. He didn’t hesitate, but took the two strides that brought him to her and wrapped his arms about her. Violetta had no chance to protest. It seemed pointless, so she took advantage of the comfort offered and found a place on his chest that was not scratchy with gold embroidery or lumpy with buttons. He chuckled, the sound rumbling though his chest. “I should wear more comfortable clothes, should I not? Hold tight.”

  She did so, and was surprised when he sank down on the sofa, settling her on his lap. “Hardly room for me on this thing,” he commented, sounding very matter of fact. There was a pause while she fought back her tears. She had promised herself years ago she wouldn’t weep, but she couldn’t help leaning her head on his shoulder, blessedly free of embroidery or buttons.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice turned sombre. “I should have thought it through properly. I’d forgotten who owned the box opposite mine.”

  “Forgotten? I thought you paid a premium for it!” She sat up on his lap and glared at him, tears forgotten.

  He reached out and drew off her spectacles, meeting her gaze. “I planned an outing for Perdita, not for me, and it completely slipped my mind. It’s unforgivable, I know, but can you possibly forgive me?”

  Violetta remembered a vision of sitting in her mother’s box and being ogled by a group of young men in the box across the way. “You hired that box so you could watch us.”

  “Not you. Them.”

  She shook her head slightly. “I’m one of them. I’ve been one of them for a long time.”

  His hand moved up her gown to her shoulder. “You’re you.” The gentle pressure on her shoulder urged her closer. Nothing loath, she complied and sank into his kiss.

  Warm and soft, comforting, but with an aftertaste of passion. She leaned into it, unable to resist. He supported her easily, spread his legs to give her a comfortable seat and held her around her back with one strong arm. The other he used to caress her, softly stroking her back in a soothing rather than stimulating gesture. Violetta felt wanted, no longer useless and foolish. She kissed him back.

  He lifted his head and gazed down at her. “You fit very well there, you know that? Shall I take you home?”

  “What?”

  He chuckled again. “Because you’re uncomfortable, not because of what you’re thinking. Although, should you offer, I don’t think you’ll find me averse to the suggestion.”

  She laughed at him. “I’m too touchy aren’t I?”

  He lifted his hand to caress her cheek. “No. It was entirely my fault. If I’d told you in time you could have contacted your mother, or excused yourself from the opera. It’s ruined your evening, hasn’t it?”

  “I didn’t expect to enjoy it. I wanted to make sure Lady Perdita was all right.”

  “She’s surrounded by admirers. In her element. It’s as if she’s never been away.”

  Violetta snuggled in. Just a few moments, she told herself. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “No, we shouldn’t. I’ll send for the carriage and take you home.”

  That was unwise. “Much as I’d love your company, it’s not a good idea. I’m only the companion.” She paused. “You won’t need me for much longer, will you?”

  “Perdita isn’t on her feet yet.”

  He did not know how far they had come. Violetta wouldn’t spoil Perdita’s surprise. “She is where you wanted her to be. Back in society. It will come. Take her away to the country this summer and all will be well, I’m sure.”

  “I won’t let you go until she’s on her feet.”

  “Or until I’m in your bed.” She could have bitten her tongue out. She knew she should not have said that.

  Before she could apologize he interrupted her. “That can happen at any time, but I want you to want me, to come to me of your own free will. Not seduced, not drunk, not bought and paid for.” He bent his head and just caressed her lips with his.

  “You mean I have to make the first move?”

  “Not necessarily. I won’t lie. I want you very much, Violetta. When I’m with you I have to touch you and kiss you. I have—” He flushed, and looked away.

  “I know.” There was very little reason why she should not. Only her reticence. Although she had the chance to enter society, she didn’t look to marry. Any husband she might attract would have to know about her mother. She would make it a condition, and the Italian aristocrat, most of whom could out-stare and out-ancestor an English duke, wo
uldn’t accept that.

  “Very well.” She lifted her hand and cupped his cheek. He turned his head and pressed a fervent kiss into the palm. She smiled. “Send for the carriage for me, but don’t come with me. That would be showing me too much particularity.”

  He laughed, his mouth still against her palm, his breath hot. “At the risk of being too forward, ma’am, have you some time in the morning for me?”

  “I—I’m not sure.”

  He moved his mouth away. “I’d like your opinion on something. Will you be ready to drive out at about eleven?”

  “Yes. I do have an errand of my own. Lady Perdita has already given me an hour off in the afternoon.”

  “Everything well, I hope?”

  “Yes. I have to go to Cerisot’s as La Perla Perfetta. There’s a gown waiting to be fitted. I could easily have gone another time, but Lady Perdita has her rest then, so she said I could go.”

  “We’ll be done long before then.”

  She rested against him. “Very well.”

  “Thank you.”

  By mutual consent they rose, and Lord Blyth went to order the carriage.

  Having obtained the necessary permission from Lady Perdita, Violetta stood in the entrance hall at a quarter to eleven the next morning, wearing only a light shawl over her drab brown gown against the moderate weather the day offered. Her undecorated straw was pinned firmly to her head. Her gloves were well worn and definitely not made to measure.

  Despite all this she felt better than she had last night. When she entered Lady Perdita’s room that morning she even received an enquiry about her health. That was so unlike Lady Perdita that Violetta found herself stammering her thanks.

  Today Lady Perdita was on her feet, leaning on one cane. “We should think of an event I can attend. If you have the invitations sent up to me I’ll go through them while you are away. I’ll want you later on, so don’t take all day.”

  “I appreciate you giving me the time off,” Violetta said, head down.

  “No matter. Judith is coming, and no doubt Orlando will look in. They can help me.”