On the red carpet at the opera house entrance, Jenkins projected an air of ease in the unfamiliar social setting, but inwardly he was a bundle of nerves. He was caught between two young won—who also happened to be lovers. His position among the three was incredibly delicate; a single misstep could shatter their friendship, a prospect he wanted to avoid at all costs.
The blonde girl's eyes scanned the surrounding crowd. Her upbringing had prepared her for this mont since childhood; she always knew that one day, she would attend social functions as a proper lady on the arm of a gentleman, helping him handle the finer points of etiquette.
But she had never dread that day would arrive so soon, nor that the man in question would have a second woman with him. Although she had never detected anything untoward in Hathaway and Jenkins's relationship, an inexplicable familiarity hung in the air whenever their eyes t, as if they were the ones who truly belonged together.
It was a strange, baseless thought. Yet, just as Briny was unshakably convinced there was sothing odd about Jenkins's cat, she found herself trusting this inexplicable intuition.
"Perhaps... my presence here is a bit inappropriate..."
In that single mont, all three of them arrived at the exact sa conclusion.
But regardless of their inner turmoil, they continued to walk forward. A remarkable number of distinguished guests had turned out for the evening. Even if the opera proved to be utter trash, the sheer prestige of the audience would lend it an air of importance.
Jenkins was now completely certain his theory from the carriage ride was correct. Tomorrow's headlines would undoubtedly feature the opera premiere, but the articles would have absolutely nothing to do with the performance itself.
As if to underscore the significance of the premiere, the opera house's interior had been decorated with extraordinary care. The usual expensive oil paintings had been swapped for even costlier antique masterpieces, and the decorative suits of armor along the walls had been replaced with genuine knightly plate. Even the grand doors to the hall had been given a fresh coat of paint. Jenkins suspected the shimring flecks were gold dust, though Hathaway suggested they were more likely a reflective mineral powder.
As they entered the opera hall, the imnse crystal chandelier hanging overhead imdiately drew every eye. Jenkins handed his ticket to an attendant at the door, his gaze drifting upward to study the fixture, which blood from the ceiling like a crystalline flower.
The suspended chandelier was arranged in three tiers, each holding candles of a different size. This created a beautiful layering of light that illuminated the hall perfectly, leaving no corner in shadow. Jenkins appraised it at seven hundred pounds; it was a genuine masterpiece.
After checking their tickets, an usher guided them toward their seats in the front. The rows of chairs were all draped in red satin, and each row had its own attendant to assist the honored guests.
Mr. Nelly had offered Jenkins tickets to a private box, but considering the reputations of Hathaway and Briny, Jenkins had graciously declined the kind proposal.
In truth, he had been tempted to accept. A private box was certainly more comfortable than the seats on the main floor, and he wouldn't have to keep Chocolate cooped up. But as long as he was living in the world of n, he had to play by its rules...
He stole a sideways glance at Hathaway, his mind drifting back to that vivid, sensual dream. They hadn't had a chance to properly talk about it since, and he had no idea how Hathaway intended to navigate her future with Briny.
"Could she be entertaining the idea of having it all?"
The thought made Jenkins chuckle to himself. Hathaway definitely wasn't that kind of girl. He was certain of it.
With so many dignitaries in attendance, both the director of the opera house and Mr. Nelly, the de facto manager of the Silver Jasmine Opera Troupe, had donned their finest formal attire to personally greet the guests.
Jenkins ran into Mr. Nelly near the front rows. Hathaway and Briny went ahead to take their seats, leaving Jenkins to exchange pleasantries.
"Baron Williatte," Mr. Nelly began, "congratulations! I've already heard the news of your impending elevation. You must be the fastest-rising noble in a century."
He specified 'in a century' because during tis of war, many had risen through the ranks far more quickly than Jenkins. Those were truly frantic tis.
"It's nothing, really," Jenkins replied. "It is a testant to Her Majesty's generosity. I rely did a small, insignificant part."
"'Insignificant?'"
Mr. Nelly lifted his chin, his decorative monocle catching the light from a gas lamp on the wall.
"The part you played in the Fabry Fraud was worth more than all the detectives at KalFax Field put together."
He declared this fact openly, making no effort to lower his voice. A middle-aged gentleman Jenkins didn't recognize, who was passing by in search of his seat, nodded in agreent and tipped his hat in a gesture of respect.
"You absolutely deserve the rank of Viscount," the man added. "Look at what's happening because of your ideas—the three great kingdoms are preparing to establish state-controlled central banks, and even the Travelers' Bank is seeking to reform. That is a legacy worthy of the history books."
The portly rchant's praise made Jenkins flush. After all, the real story behind the Fabry Fraud was utterly absurd.
When he finally sat down, he found the young won had left the middle seat for him, just as they had last ti. It was a natural arrangent; to any observer, it would have looked far stranger for the two of them to sit side-by-side.
The audience for tonight's premiere was far larger than it had been for the preview. By the ti the performance was about to begin, the theater was nearly full. Beside him, Hathaway's lace-gloved hand rested on the armrest they shared. The soft light glinted off the ladies' jewelry, and the air buzzed with conversation as people called out greetings to the more distinguished guests, creating the atmosphere of a grand festival.
Hathaway leaned over to inform Jenkins that the Marquis had arrived in one of the upper boxes, ntioning she had caught a glimpse of him at the window.
When Jenkins turned to look, he saw only Mrs. Mikhail, elegant in a pearl necklace and a red evening gown, peering in their direction through a small pair of opera glasses. She seed to notice his gaze, for after a brief mont, she stepped away from the window.
"Quite a crowd," Jenkins murmured.
The author lanted under his breath, finding it a sha that such an important premiere was being relegated to a re backdrop. No matter how spectacular the performance, the audience's real focus would be on the mayor's speech. On the other hand, this political significance ensured the premiere could not possibly be deed a failure. It was hard to say whether that was a blessing or a curse.
Reviews
All reviews (0)