Rebel Angels
"Ah, there they are," Grandmama announces. I spy Simon. He is so handsome in his white tie and black tails.
"Good evening," I say, curtsying.
"Good evening," he says. He gives me a small smile, and with that smile, I feel such relief and happiness that I could sit through ten operas.
We receive our programs and join the crowd. Father, Tom, and Simon are pulled into a conversation with another man, a portly, balding fellow sporting a monocle on a chain, while Grandmama, Lady Denby, and I stroll slowly, nodding and making our hellos to various society ladies. It is a necessary parade designed to show off our finery. I hear my name being called. It's Felicity with Ann. They are well turned out in their white gowns. Felicity's garnet earbobs shine against her white-blond hair. A pink cameo rests against the hollow of Ann's throat.
"Oh, dear," Lady Denby says."It's that wretched Worthington woman."
The comment has Grandmama aflutter. "Mrs. Worthington? The admiral's wife? Is there some scandal?"
"You do not know? Three years ago, she went to Paris-- for her health, they said--and she sent the young Miss Worthington away to school. But I have it on good authority that she took a lover, a Frenchman, and now he's left her and she's back with the admiral, pretending that none of it ever happened. She is not received in the best homes, of course. But everyone attends her dinners and balls out of affection for the admiral, who is the soul of respectability. Shhh, here they come."
Mrs. Worthington strides over, the girls in tow. I hope the flush on my cheeks does not give me away, for I don't like Lady Denby's snobbery.
"Good evening, Lady Denby," Mrs. Worthington says, her smile radiant.
Lady Denby does not offer her hand but opens her fan instead."Good evening, Mrs. Worthington."
"What bracelet?" Ann asks.
"The one the duke sent from Saint Petersburg. Perhaps you lost it in the dressing room. We must look for it. Gemma, would you mind awfully?"
"No, of course not," I say.
"Be quick about it. The opera is about to begin," Grandmama warns.
We escape to the dressing room. A few ladies preen at the mirrors, adjusting shawls and jewels.
"Ann, when I say you've lost your bracelet, play along," Felicity chides.
"Sorry," Ann says.
"She isn't," I argue.
"I am not besotted. He simply invited my family to the opera." Felicity's raised eyebrow says she doesn't believe a word of it.
"Perhaps you'd like to know that I've discovered something about my amulet," I say, changing the subject.
"What is it?" Ann asks, removing her gloves in order to tend to her hair.
"The crescent eye is some sort of compass. That's what Nell Hawkins was trying to tell me. I think it may lead us to the Temple."
Felicity's eyes gleam."A compass! We must try it tonight."
"Tonight?" I squeak. "Here? With all these people about?" With Simon, I almost say."We couldn't possibly."
"Of course we can," Felicity whispers. "Just before intermission, tell your grandmother that you must be excused for the dressing room. Ann and I shall do the same. We'll meet in the hall and find a place where we can enter the realms from there."
"It isn't that simple," I say."She won't let me go, not alone."
"Find a way," Felicity insists.
"Afraid of what Simon will think? It isn't as if you're betrothed!" Felicity tut- tuts.
The comment lands like a blow. "I never said anything of the sort."
Felicity smiles. She knows she's won. "So we are agreed. Just before intermission. Do not delay."
The plan in place, we turn our attention to the mirrors, positioning combs and smoothing dresses.
"Has he tried to kiss you?" Felicity asks in an offhand manner.
"No, of course not," I say, embarrassed. I hope no one has overheard her.
"I should be careful," Felicity says. "Simon has a reputation as a ladies' man."
"He's been the perfect gentleman with me," I protest. "Hmmm," Felicity says, her eyes on her reflection, which is fetching, as always.