The Lady Went to the Theater, To See Who She Could See

[Amelia Callaghan]

((October 17th, Evening))

The horses hooves on the cobble stones were a relaxing sound to Amelia as the cab made it's way through the town toward the Drury Lane Royal Theater. She had spent, what seemed like, months couped up in the house with her ailing Aunt and the few servants she had. Much as she didn't have to do the shopping, the cleaning had made her hands less soft and no amount of lotion seemed to make up for it. She looked over and smiled at the gentlemen her Aunt had set her up with.

Mr. Artie Shulster was handsome enough but it seemed that he never stopped talking about himself. Amelia had spent all of dinner feeling like her head was going to fall off her neck and reminding herself silently to smile sweetly at the man. She had no interest in him or his hobbies, but her Aunt had insisted that going to the theater without an escort would be scandalous. She longed for the days in India when many a young officer in the EIC would have been happy to take her to dinner and the theater, but that was neither here nor now.

She didn't remember what the name of the show was this month, but she would be glad for it, hoping that her date wouldn't talk through the whole thing. Artie helped her from the carriage with a smug smile, and offered his arm to escort her inside. She'd never seen such a theater before, and smiled at all the ladies and gentlemen dressed up for the show. It was then that Artie pulled her into the crowd to introduce her to some friends.

((Friends of Artie, or enemies, please jump in here.))

[J.Q. Fidditch]

Amid the crowd in their finery, all murmuring voices and dazzled grins, there was one who didn't speak so freely. An awkward man, a rabbit-like man, possessed of unmemorable features and quite possibly the most anxious manner present in the theatre that day; he hung at the side of a sprightly young girl as though he were another accessory to her fashionable outfit. For all that J.Q. hung back and twitched, Marigold sparkled like the sun. The theatre had been her idea of course. Supposing that he owed it to her, Fidditch had reluctantly acquiesced, knowing that the whole affair would only bring trauma.

Speaking of trauma, he noted with an approaching feeling of dread the approach of the horrid excuse for a man known as Artie Shulster, Jr. The son of Fidditch's employer was, as usual, decked out in the latest fashion (which looked utterly ridiculous on him, J.Q. noted) and paired with an escort far too attractive to be unpaid.

At the sight of his rival, Fidditch's nervous grin only broadened, and his hand tightened on Marigold's. She gave him a sort of scolding look and immediately returned to her exchange with one of the fragile-looking old dames with whom she'd been conversing. Clearly there was no help to be gotten from her. No surprise there, really.

His grin was a terrible thing, a rictus of unspent emotion, as he turned in his best approximation of a greeting toward Artie. "Mr. Shulster, good to see you," he lied painfully, making no move toward bow or handshake.

[Marigold Driscoll]

"Oh, darling!" The voice from J.Q's side was soft and pleasant but had a note under it. "Don't--pardon me for a moment, Mrs. Stevens--don't forget your manners! How are you, Artie?"

Marigold turned away from the old woman, leaving a kiss on the wrinkled cheek and turned toward the wayward playboy son of her date's employer. She gave him a tolerant smile and gave J.Q.'s arm a squeeze.

"J.Q. was just telling me, I think it was just the other night that you have some ideas for a new lending scheme at the firm! I had no idea you'd decided you had a head for business, Artie!" Of course the truth was everyone knew that Artie had no head for business at all and they just waited until he got bored with his little plans and forget about them. ....everyone knew this that is but Marigold.

"And who is this lovely angel here with you?" Marigold extended a hand gloved in lavender silk to Artie Shulster Jr's date. "Miss Driscoll. So pleased to meet you, dear."

[Florence Brookes Leighton]

Florence had become steadily more frustrated by the increasingly less amount of time she had to herself since early spring. She had arrived in England welcomed, but not exactly the call of society and then slowly, but surely, her popularity had increased and invitations and calls had become more frequent. She had been warned by her hosts, and even Lady Bourneville herself, that it was unwise to continuously turn down these invitations as she occassionally did to free up time for herself, which she also had been told was a rather copious amount of time and needed to be spent on society rather than on herself. She needed to prove she was not the barbaric outcome of her society. Such phrases always making her want to roll her eyes at their preconceived thoughts and ideas.

It was then an invitation from a club of young "educated" women had been sent to her for some time at the theatre and they "so wished she could join them". Her first thought was to of course turn them down for several reasons, two primarily being the shows rarely entertained her enough to even bother going and also as she had come to know these clubs were nothing more than gossip groups that chose public places to find even more yet to talk about. As useful as gossip was it could be an utter bore depending on the company and she feared what these ladies would choose to chatter about, but all her decisions were quickly changed when she had to face the outcome of refusing their invitation. Lady Wembley put it very plainly and perhaps a bit more straightforward than normal - IF she did not go and spend the afternoon with these delightful ladies for one day she would find herself in the company of Artie Shulster for the weekend. That was enough for Florence to quickly agree to this little outing to the theatre no matter the subject of the play or talk.

She had spent far too much time in the company of that man and had found several ways to avoid him and the situations involving him, so as it was she had to stop herself from laughing seeing him and the poor young lady who accompanied him. Better her than me, she thought, but still she wondered how it came to be and where such a girl had come from not recognizing her from any past gathering. How interesting...! But as much as she would like to find this out she did NOT want to get any where within the close circle of people Artie was greeting and as it was the ladies she was with had thoughts on the man himself they began whispering to one another. For Florence she simply took a deep breath and waited for the polite beginnings of the social gathering to come to an end.

[Renate MacGregor]

There was one person at least in the wide theater lobby that didn't mind anything about that night. Not a single thing. Her stays were too tight and made her lightheaded, her wrist itched where she'd put on a few costume bracelets, and her hair pulled where it was tightly pinned up but as Renate walked into the room she was beaming as if she walked in a cloud of bliss. Her cheeks were pink with pleasure and she was giddy with wine and belly full of food finer than she'd ever eaten before. Laughter spilled from her lips and as she tossed her head her hair caught the light...

Or at least, she felt so grand and so beautiful! But perhaps it was just the flattery of the man who's arm she clutched and who's side she stayed near. She looked up and beamed at him and wondered if any girl had ever been so happy.

[Wilkie]

To Wilkie the growing crowds of high society proved more of a nuisance than a spectacle. He had all intents of slipping into the theatre unseen and with this many people it just may prove a bit difficult. But he didn't intend to back out now. He was going to the theatre! In his Sunday best and his hair neatly combed. He didn't care what was being performed. That mattered little. It was just bragging rights. To tell the other Newsies he had gone - nevermined he hadn't paid to get in. Maybe he would even tell the Gents. Let them wonder how he accomplished such a thing before he went into full detail of what he had seen.

Thinking about the Gents made him look around. They would have such pickings here! He imagined most of these people could buy tickets to the theatre every day and not worry about it. But his fingers weren't quite as sticky nor as nimble as theirs and he didn't dare slip his hand into a pocket. It wasn't his intent nor game tonight.

He continued to watch the people finding he recognized a few faces from the Garden Party back in spring. Faces he had no names for. Except...

He slipped back a bit. Away from the others, trying to figure out the best way in.

[Lucien Hall]

"Really, my dear." the actor took the hand of the girl who hung on his arm and kissed her knuckles in what he dearly hoped was an astonishingly charming manner.

"I'll start to grow hope, if you flatter me with many more smiles."

He smiled back at her, did Mister Lucien Hall, and kissed her fingertips with so much charm in his eyes that a matron a few feet away was induced to blush and begin fanning herself. The delightful blonde on his arm, however, simply blushed.

"But don't you top smiling!" he chastised. "My world would grow so much drearier if you did." He chucked her chin then, drawing close enough to whisper something into her ear.

...he was absolutely delighted to see the way she blushed then!

[Renate MacGregor]

"Sir!" Renate gave the man a soft bop with her fan but it wasn't a moment before she was fanning herself again. Her hair was softly curled and shining and her cheeks were ruddy enough without use of rouge but she didn't think of herself as lovely. She never really had..and perhaps that was why Mister Hall's flattery and charm were so very effective. He called her lovely. He called her lovely in four languages and ten different ways. Even in a language she'd never heard before, that made her think of spices and heat. She blushed and fanned herself..and tried to remember that she was only being friendly. He was an acquaintance and nothing more! But running into him here had been a grand bit of luck... as her letters to her own darling employer had, it seemed, been either mis delivered or more likely entirely forgotten. But it was Nat's way she knew..and so without even being asked to she forgave him.

Something out of the corner of her eyes caught her attention. That boy...why was he familiar? She shook her head and her curls fall over her shoulders and she broght herself back to the present moment. Don't think of the boy. Think of Lucien and his strong chin and grey eyes...no! Think of Nat! Nat, and the way he'd...
She tried hard to concentrate on devoutly wishing that Mister Nathaniel Lindsey were here and that she were on his arm. She did. She tried but when Mister Lucien Hall, the celebrated actor was cupping her chin petting her hair and calling her 'jewel of the Empire'....

"Oh, Sir!"

[J.Q. Fidditch]

And of course, leave it to Marigold to go babbling about frivolous topics of which she knew precisely nothing. Fidditch smiled unpleasantly as she spoke. "Yes, yes, Mr. Shulster really does have quite the head for business," he interjected, well aware that the sarcasm in his voice was completely lost on Artie.

He'd already completely lost interest in the conversation, and his eyes drifted away to some of the theatre's more interesting patrons. He desperately wished that he could be away somewhere less "exciting." His sweaty hand slipped in Marigold's and he released it without reluctance.

[Marigold Driscoll]

"Oh, darling! Now don't be uncharitable." The vicar's daughter laughed and gave a shake of her golden curls. She turned to Artie's date and gave a conspiratorial smile. "These men! Always trying to impress us, aren't they?" She followed it with a wink before hugging closer to her own escort. "But my Quinty here, you should see him do figures! He's a marvel he is, though I could never do it, my poor little head would curst if I tried!"

Her smile wavered a bit as something caught her eye and in a moment Marigold was waving to someone behind Shulster and Miss Callahan.

"You there! Boy!" She waved again at the lad who was scowling and trying to avoid her eye. "Boy! Aren't you Fran Carrol's boy? How is your mother?"

Why wouldn't he come and say hello? She remembered Fran Carrol...not very well since the woman hadn't been seen about much lately..but she remembered some sort of misfortune affecting the family and the parish putting together something to help them out a bit. "I say, how is your mother?"

She didn't notice that although the boy seemed to (pretended not to?) notice her she had gotten the attention of one of the ushers who headed over to the boy with a stern expression.

[Wilkie]

Maybe it was Wilkie's imagination...or maybe not...but did he see her turn her head in his direction? He huffed. Crazy in this crowd she would see him! Although it made him wonder what she was doing here. A music busker. And that man she was with...his lip curled at the man's attempts at what Wilkie was positive was supposed to be charm. Did girl's really fall for that? Really like men like that?

But a voice interrupted his train of thought and he looked around wondering who recognized him and knew his mother by name. Oh spit! Someone who DID know him? That surely wouldn't help his situation! But the lady continuted to call to him and ask about his mother and he scowled and wondered how long he could ignore her. For awhile he was positive. Except if she kept on like that it would get people's attention and wouldn't leave him with much of a choice but to answer her.

He was about to turn away when he noticed the usher heading towards him which made him go the other way. Right to those he was avoiding. damn...

But it was really the least of his worries as the usher was much quicker on his feet than the boy would have expected and soon he had his collar pulled and held from behind. "Here now, boy! I don't recall seeing you come in. Where are your folks?" The usher had no worries about causing any scene or alarm. He was positive those around would find him a great comfort. Keeping peace and urchins away from their daily lives.

[Renate MacGregor]

Oh dear! Between the flattering advances of her companion for the evening and the distracting conversations going on all around her Renate's head was spinning around and she didn't really know what to make of everything. In the end she fixed on something...there! There was that news boy! She had seen him a few times but had never really forgotten that conversation they had that had gone all wrong in the end. What a strange child. A child that now it seemed was about to be thrown from the theater...

With a small frown and without really thinking first Renate let her arm slip from Lucien's. She moved toward the usher with a smile.

"Oh, thank you, sir!" she smiled at the man and lay her hand on Wilkie's arm. "You have found him! Can't thank you enough, sir. Our parents have already gone in, or I know they'd wish to as well." and she smiled at the man such a honest and trustworthy smile that honestly who could ever question it?

The usher stood there so confused by this sudden change in events that he just stared.

[Wilkie]

For a few moments Wilkie himself was a bit confused by the change of events. All he had come to do was watch a show and he had been forced to avoid certain people. Now that music busker was...helping him? Was she actually pretending to be his sister? And was the usher actually falling for it???

It seemed to be working though as the usher mumbled an apology even as he gave Wilkie a warning glance. "Best remind him to stay closer to your parents." The usher told Renate before dismissing himself. Still a bit puzzled.

Wilkie glared at him until he disappeared into the crowd, then turned to look at Renate. "Guess ya want a thank you?" He asked, still disgruntled over the way he had seen her companion act around her. And really! He would have been able to handle the usher on his own. Didn't need help...not really...

[Marigold Driscoll]

"You are Fran Carrol's boy!" Marigold chirped as she pushed her way past the retreating usher to Wilkie's side. "How is your mother?" She smiled bright and looked from Wilkie to the girl by his side. Marigold gave a little sniff. The girl could have been pretty if she wasn't so plain looking! She'd only caught a few snatches of the conversation on the way over but that wasn't going to stop her from coming to some conclusions!

"Your mum's already gone in then? Oh, good! I'd love to say hello to her!" and then she leaned down to Wilkie and said in her sweetest voice (the one she would use for a small child).

"And why don't you introduce me to your 'friend' here?" She was even a little tempted to give the boy a wink but didn't want him to think she approved of his cheeky behavior!

[Wilkie]

Wilkie cringed. What was up with the insistance of this woman to find out if he was Fran's son? And the urge to suddenly want to talk to her? Not many people wanted to start up a conversation with his mother any more.

He gave an annoyed sigh. The last thing he needed was having a nosy lady find out his mother was not in the theatre. "Mother hasn't been in much of a mood for convesation recently." He tried...he really did...to make it sound as if it was a VERY bad idea to go seach out Mrs. Carrol and try to talk to her. And sometimes it actually was a bad idea...

What he really needed was a distraction to make sure she didn't go running off to find her anyway. And unfortunately for him it seemed Renate was just that. What was the interest in her? He glanced at Renate (perhaps even slightly apologetic...perish the thought...) and gave a weak smile to Marigold. He was not the best at polite society behaviour..."This is Renate." He realized too late he should probably have said Miss MacGregor and gave an inward suffering sigh that he had most likely doomed himself in this conversation.