Page 40 of A Lady's Propitious Match
CHAPTER 18
Seated beside Clara in the private theater box, Christopher tried to immerse himself in the Shakespearean tragedy playing out on the stage. The actors, with their impassioned performances, brought to life the timeless tale of Romeo and Juliet. Yet, despite his best efforts, his gaze was repeatedly drawn to Clara’s lovely profile, bathed in the soft glow of the stage lights.
The delicate curve of her neck, the way her eyes reflected the shifting emotions of the play, and the subtle rise and fall of her chest as the story unfolded — all conspired to divert his attention. The world of Verona seemed to blur, and in its place, Christopher found himself captivated by the real life drama unfolding beside him.
As Romeo and Juliet navigated the complexities of love and tragedy, Christopher could not escape the awareness of Clara’s presence. Her every reaction, every subtle expression, became a scene in itself. A play within the play that he found impossible to ignore.
He recalled the spark he felt when he watched Clara close her eyes and make a secret wish at the fountain in their gardens during his mother’s garden tea party. The memory, like a whispered echo, resonated in the dimly lit theater box.
It was hard to recall this moment when he was also drowning in the words of other people. Elliot’s encouragement, his mother’s disparagement, the anger that came from Clara’s father. Much as he wanted to daydream about the possibility of them becoming something more, there was always something reminding him that could not happen.
Clara, her eyes reflecting the emotional journey of the play, turned to him with a wistful smile. “A powerful performance, would you not agree, Christopher?”
He returned her smile, though an unspoken heaviness hung between them. “Indeed, Clara. Shakespeare has a way of unraveling the complexities of the human heart.”
The lingering strains of the scene in front of them seemed to underscore his thoughts. In this moment, he ached for something more — a love that transcended the societal barriers and whispered promises of what could be. He wished for everything.
Truth be told, Christopher could not ignore the parallels between their story and that of Romeo and Juliet. The societal constraints, the expectations, and the unspoken dangers seemed to conspire against the prospect of a love unfettered.
It was painful to watch. So much so that he almost wanted to leap out of his seat and to leave the theatre behind. Especially because he knew that this whole evening would have terrible consequences. The Devereuxs would tell her mother, and all of them would ensure it.
“The balcony scene is almost as dramatic as Miss Henrietta’s reaction to our presence,” Clara remarked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. The comment alone dragged him from his spiraling thoughts, thank goodness.
Christopher could not help but hide a grin, utterly charmed by her ability to find humor even in the midst of the play’s heavy drama. The weight of the Shakespearean tragedy momentarily lifted as her witty observation brought a breath of fresh air to the private box.
“Well, I must admit, Miss Henrietta does have a flair for the dramatic,” Christopher replied, his own eyes reflecting the amusement that danced between them.
Clara chuckled, the sound like a melody that dispelled the lingering shadows. “One could almost imagine her standing on a balcony, delivering a soliloquy of disapproval.”
Christopher was thoroughly enchanted by her quick wit. The heavy atmosphere that had settled during the play seemed to disperse, replaced by the shared laughter that bridged the complexities of their world.
As the night unfolded beyond the enchanting theater performance, Christopher found himself savoring every moment of their shared company. The private box, once a stage for unspoken tensions and unexplored desires, transformed in to a haven where Clara’s quick mind and kind heart wove an irresistible spell.
But eventually, the night have to come to an end, much to Christopher’s chagrin. The curtain descended, and the theater lights began to brighten, signaling the end of the poignant tragedy that had unfolded on stage.
But he could not get too upset. Not when Clara’s laughter, like a melody that resonated with intelligence, filled the air as they navigated the corridors of the theater. Her humor, a beacon of light, dispelled any lingering shadows that clung to the edges of their shared journey. Christopher marveled at her ability to find joy in the midst of complexity, drawn even further under the spell of her captivating spirit.
As they stepped into the night air, the city beyond the theater gates offered a canvas for new adventures. The glow of gas lamps illuminated their path, casting a warm hue over the cobble stone streets. Christopher’s heart echoed with the enchantment of the evening, a melody that seemed to harmonize with every step taken in Clara’s company.
As Christopher guided Clara towards the waiting carriage, the warmth of her fingers lingered against his, leaving an indelible imprint that resonated through every fiber of his being. The enchanting night had drawn to a close, but the touch of her elegant hand left him wanting so much more.
He held back the urge to linger, a silent longing lingering in his gaze as he reluctantly released her hand. The carriage awaited, its doors open to usher them back to the reality beyond the theater’s glow. Christopher could not deny the magnetic pull, the desire to bridge the distance that decorum demanded.
As Clara stepped into the carriage, the delicate rustle of her gown seemed to echo the unspoken sentiments that hung in the air. Christopher followed suit, taking a seat beside her. The soft glow of the carriage’s interior revealed a mix of emotions in Clara’s eyes — gratitude, amusement, and, perhaps, a trace of the same longing that gripped his own heart.
Ruth, the steadfast chaperone, took her place opposite them, a silent guardian of propriety. The rhythmic clip clop of the horse drawn carriage matched the unease circling through Christopher. He found himself torn between the dictates ofsocietal decorum and the relentless pull of his emotions. He yearned to touch Clara’s hand again.
Judging by the look in her eye, it was what she wanted as well.
“I had a wonderful evening,” she said, breaking the silence. “Thank you so very much for inviting me along with you.”
“You were delightful company.” Christopher smiled. “I do not think a trip to the theater has been quite so pleasant.”
He hoped that she could read between the lines and see what he was really thinking. If Ruth were not beside him, he might have finally been honest about how he was feeling. Seeing Romeo and Juliet had emboldened him in a way. Yes, it was a tragedy, but also a reminder that life was too short.
But he had to be careful about what he said. Just because Clara’s eyes were gleaming at him, did not necessarily mean that she was ready to turn their ruse into something real.
The carriage rolled to a gentle stop outside Clara’s home, the soft glow of street lamps casting a subdued radiance on the cobble stone path. Christopher could not help but feel a mix of emotions swirling within him. He was not yet ready for this night to end.
