Chapter One 1894-1
2000 Words
Chapter One 1894The Marquis of Sherwood stepped out of his exceedingly smart carriage at the door of the Gaiety Theatre.
The commissionaire saluted him smartly as he walked up the steps and into the vestibule.
There was no question of him showing a ticket; the attendants bowed and smiled as he went up to his own box.
The show was in full swing and, as the Marquis took his seat, he saw they were nearing the end of the last act.
He had seen The Shop Girl a dozen times already, but he still enjoyed the finale in which the Gaiety Girls played a prominent part.
The Marquis, perhaps better than anyone else, understood how George Edwardes, the most brilliant showman of his time, had swept away Burlesque which had been popular for so many years.
Instead he had introduced Musical Comedy to London. It had emerged from the Ballad Opera, the Balletta, the Comic Opera, and the Musical Farce, and now was a polished, rich and compelling show which had made theatrical history.
George Edwardes had produced a revolution which entranced and mesmerised the whole of London.
Besides his exquisite taste in decor and costumes, the Gaiety Girls were the perfection of feminine elegance. George Edwardes glorified femininity.
He made his Girls acceptable to men and women alike.
The Gaiety Girls were already famous, and in Musical Comedy gone were the scanty bodices and tights of Burlesque.
The Girls were elegantly clothed from their bare skin to the tops of their heads, it was known to everybody in London that even their under-clothes were of pure silk enriched with real lace.
The Marquis glanced around the theatre and saw that every seat was taken.
As he had invested quite a lot of money in the show it was satisfactory to think that not only was George Edwardes’ hunch right, but his also.
It was in fact the Marquis who had been partly instrumental in making the Gaiety Girls famous.
Because he was one of the most important young aristocrats in Society there were a great number of men ready to follow his lead when he extolled the Gaiety Girls.
He watched their performance nearly every night, then took one or other of them out to supper.
That became the ambition of every young man who could afford it.
To take a Gaiety Girl to Romano’s they would spend every copper they had and walk home bemused and elated with sheer joy.
There had been nothing like it before in the story of the theatre.
The Gaiety Stage-Door was the Gateway of Romance. It was always besieged by dozens of young men in top hats and tails each praying that he would be fortunate enough to persuade one of the Goddesses he worshipped to have supper with him.
The Shop Girl was, as the Marquis knew, an animated show which enraptured the audience from the moment the curtain rose.
The first act was set in “The Royal Stores” which lived up to their name.
The second was in “The Fancy-Dress Bazaar” in Kensington.
It was a love story, a romance in which a young Medical student of “blue blood” falls in love with a mere shop-girl. As the act before him began to approach the climax, the Marquis thought a little cynically that the story had already been enacted by the Gaiety Girls.
Some of them had married either their titled lover or else a millionaire.
He was quite certain many more would be fortunate enough to end up in the same way.
Quite a number of these alluring, beautiful and exquisitely-dressed young women had passed through his hands.
But there was no question of him losing his heart and offering them marriage.
He had long ago decided he would marry nobody until he was too decrepit to enjoy the delights of London.
In the meantime, he was determined not to permit himself to be bored.
It seemed impossible that he should be so, considering how much he possessed.
Those who envied him thought that the whole world was his oyster.
He not only had one of the most famous titles in Debrett’s Peerage, but he owned one of the finest houses in the country, and a huge estate to go with it.
His race-horses invariably were first past the winning post and his pack of hounds was undoubtedly the most exclusive.
The curtain came down to rapturous applause and the “stars” took their calls.
Bouquet after bouquet was brought onto the stage amid the shouts and whistles for the leading ladies.
Even more noise greeted the Gaiety Girls.
The Marquis raised his opera-glasses to look more closely at the one he intended to take out to supper.
She was smiling and looked, he thought, exceedingly lovely.
At the same time, some cynical part of his brain told him that her reign had come to an end as far as he was concerned.
He had to admit however, that the time they had spent together had been enjoyable.
The curtain fell and the Marquis, knowing it would rise again at least a dozen times, walked leisurely from his Box and down to the stage door.
It was opened for him by an attendant who greeted him saying,
“Evenin’, my Lord! Nice t’see you. It’s bin a good show tonight!”
“So I observed!” the Marquis replied.
He walked through the door and along the somewhat dirty passage to the iron staircase which led to the dressing rooms.
On his left was the door leading into the street.
Sitting inside his glassed-in office was the eagle-eyed Jung who was, as usual, being besieged by young men begging him to take messages to the Gaiety Girls.
The Marquis thought as he watched them that Jung’s pockets were bulging with gold coins which were thrust upon him with the notes they wished him to deliver.
Then, as he waited, he could hear the orchestra playing “God Save the Queen” and knew the curtain had finally fallen.
Now those on stage came rushing past him.
The women hesitated, smiled and gave him not only an inviting look, but one which besought him to notice them.
If it was the ambition of every young man to take out a Gaiety Girl, it was the ambition of every Gaiety Girl to be partnered by the Marquis.
Because she knew better than to keep him waiting, Lucy, the girl he was taking out to supper, soon appeared.
She was certainly very lovely with red hair which owed very little to the artistic talents of her hairdresser.
Her face could be found in a prominent place in every stationer’s shop-window.
Her figure seemed too perfect to be real.
Her gown was fantastic and accentuated her charms.
As the Marquis knew, it undoubtedly belonged to the theatre.
He had dressed so many of his mistresses that he was well aware that George Edwardes did not trust their taste.
He invariably allowed them to wear the gowns that he provided when they went to supper at Romano’s.
“I hope I’ve not kept you waiting, my Lord?”
It was a lisping, soft, feminine voice that asked the question.
Two large eyes looked up pleadingly as she begged him not to be annoyed.
“My carriage is outside,” the Marquis said.
He put his hand under Lucy’s arm.
As they walked out through the stage door the crowd outside moved to allow them to pass.
The carriage was the first of a long line drawn up outside.
There were shouts and cheers not only for Lucy whom they all knew, but also for the Marquis.
“Sherwood!” “Sherwood!” they called out while some of the men shouted,
“Give us a winner!”
It was a cry that the Marquis heard on every racecourse.
He acknowledged his public with a wave of his hand before he helped Lucy into the carriage.
She sank down onto the comfortable seat, careful as she did so not to dislodge the flowers in her hair which toned with her gown.
As the carriage drove off she said,
“You were late tonight. I missed you.”
“I was delayed at my Regimental dinner,” the Marquis explained, “and I ought not to have left it, but of course I wanted to see you.”
“I’ve been counting the hours all day,” Lucy said, “and they moved very slowly.”
The Marquis smiled, but he did not reply.
He had heard innumerable women say the same thing. In fact he would have been surprised if they had said anything else.
Driving down the Strand they drew up outside Romano’s Restaurant.
Romano himself, a dark suave little man, hurried forward to greet the Marquis respectfully.
He led them to a sofa under the balcony.
This, as Lucy knew, was the most important table in the room.
She preened herself, knowing that every woman present in the room was envying her.
They were waving and blowing kisses to the Marquis, but as he sat down he did not seem particularly elated. The oblong room with its dark red curtains and plush sofas was filled with his friends accompanied by extremely elegant women.
Because the applause at the Gaiety Theatre always went on for longer than the other Theatres, almost every other table was full.
Those that were not were awaiting the Gaiety Girls who were following the Marquis and Lucy into the Restaurant. Nearly all of the Girls wore flowers in their hair.
Their décolletage was extremely low, their waists so tiny that a man’s two hands could easily meet round them.
The Gaiety Girls had special tables kept for them which their admirers decked with flowers.
Tonight three of the Girls had huge bells of blossoms over their heads with their names embellished on them.
A waiter brought the Marquis a hand-written menu and the wine waiter hovered behind him.
He did not hurry in ordering what he wished to eat. The wine waiter knew his favourite champagne and had it ready.
As he filled two glasses the Marquis settled himself a little more comfortably on the sofa and said to Lucy,
“Now, what have you been doing with yourself while I have been away?”
“Just waiting for your return,” she answered.
“You can hardly expect me to believe that you have not been out to supper every evening!”
“If I have,” she replied, “it has not been with anyone of importance.”
She moved a little nearer to him.
But the Marquis was aware that a young man who had just entered the Restaurant was waiting to speak to him.
“Hello, Rupert!” the Marquis said, “I thought you were in the country!”
“I was,” the Honourable Rupert Wick replied, “but I thought I might find you here.”
“I wanted to see you,” the Marquis said. “I thought you would like to shoot with me on the twenty-third.”
Rupert Wick’s eyes lit up.
He knew it was a privilege to be invited to the Marquis’s house, and an even greater one to be included in one of his shooting-parties.
“I should be delighted to accept,” he said, “and incidentally, I have an invitation for you.”
The Marquis looked at him questioningly.
“My sister Katherine who, as you may be aware, came out this year, is very anxious that you should dine with us one evening.
The Marquis did not answer for a moment and Rupert Wick went on hastily,
“It will not be a very large party, but Katherine and some of her friends are very anxious to meet you.”
“I am sure they are,” the Marquis said slowly, “but the answer, my dear Rupert, is ‘No’. If there is one thing I avoid it is half-witted, gauche, stupid and not-welleducated debutantes.”
He spoke positively, then he smiled.
“Make my apologies to your sister, and I shall look forward to seeing you on the twenty-third.”
Rupert was dismissed, and he knew it.
He knew only too well that it would be useless and embarrassing to argue with the Marquis.
Instead he walked away to where, across the room, he joined a party of his friends who were entertaining four of the Gaiety Girls.
*
Lavina Vernon looked out of the window and saw that it was raining.
She thought that meant she would be unable to ride this afternoon as she had planned to do and was disappointed.
At the same time, she remembered she was halfway through a delightful book.
It described the adventures of a man who had dared to enter Tibet in disguise and who had actually caught sight of the Dalai Lama.
- Writer
