Harry De Rosier's carriage trundled down Broadway, passing rows of shops and departments stores. Archibald sat opposite Harry. The sidewalks were packed with last-minute holiday shoppers, and as he watched the throngs of people through the carriage window it seemed almost impossible that only a year before he'd spent his last Christmas at his family estate. A year ago he'd entertained the idea of marrying a quiet country girl to repair his quiet country life. And now he was being ferried around New York City by one of its most sensational residents.
He should be happy. He should be rejoicing in a year of such successes at his hands, but still, his moment of triumph felt bitter-sweet.
The carriage pulled to a stop uptown from the retail center, and Harry lunged through the door and out to the snow-covered sidewalk. Archibald followed eagerly and found his friend standing on the steps of the new Civic Opera House with arms stretched wide and grinning like a fool.
"You're insane," Archibald said. The people passing on the street moved with greater urgency as they beheld the scene Harry was making.
"Look at it, Archie!" he shouted, his arms still raised.
"Insane," Archibald repeated. An elderly woman in a dark veil gave a shocked gasp as she passed. Archibald apologized for his friend's behavior.
"This is it! The beginning of a new age!" Harry said.
Archibald shook his head.
"Don't you want to see what has become of your investment?"
"Of course. But let's get out of here before someone calls the police."
Inside the Civic Opera House, Archibald got his first real look at the opulence of New York City. The Society of Music with all its cramped little boxes couldn't even be compared to the house at the Civic. Six floors of seating stretched toward the gilded ceiling and its massive chandeliers. And the persemium stage — Archibald had never seen one so large in all his life.
He stood at the back of the house, dumbstruck by the lavishness of the decor.
"Fantastic isn't it," Harry said. His eyes roved over the cavernous space with wonderment. He took a deep breath. "Do you smell that?"
Archibald crinkled his nose. "It smells like wet paint in here."
"That's the smell of change," Harry said with a sigh. He started off towards the stage in long strides. "That, my British friend, is the smell of Mrs. Alexander's slipping grip on New York society. She can horde her boxes at the Society of Music all she wants. There will be seats for everyone at the Civic." His voice carried through the entire theater thanks to well-planned acoustics.
"Seats for everyone, but that doesn't mean anyone will pay for them," a voice boomed through the house. Archibald turned to see a man enter from one of the side doors. The man with grey-streaked black hair wore a dark purple suit and a forest green cravat, both of which were made of damask satin. He appeared to be in his forties and looked altogether like a man one might find in the theater.
"Ah!" Harry said, turning back to greet the newcomer with a handshake. "Archie, this is exactly the man I brought you here to meet."
Archibald met them where they stood in front of the stage.
"This is Mr. Conrad Turner. He's producing the show 'The Sorcerer of the Seine' for the opening of the Civic," Harry said.
Conrad Turner eyed Archibald with one brow cocked. He extended a wary hand.
"This is Archibald Colston. He's one of the principal investors in the Civic," Harry added.
Conrad softened at this and a wide grin spread across his face. "Mr. Colston!" he exclaimed. "How wonderful it is to have you stop by," he said with all affability.
Archibald accepted a second, more fervent handshake from the man. "What was that you were saying about no one buying seats to the show?"
"Yes," he said with a solemn nod. "It'll be a shame to build such a beautiful opera house if no one comes to the shows."
"The Swells will come," Harry chimed in. "With or without the Knickerbockers."
"True," Conrad said. "But we need Mrs. Alexander and her brood to give us credibility."
"It won't be enough to just put on the best show New York has ever seen?" asked Archibald.
Conrad began to make his reply, but his face fell at the sound of a large crash from somewhere behind the stage curtain. The red velvet rippled as someone disturbed it. A man with grey hair burst through the folds, pursued by a young woman brandishing a silver-headed cane.
"Conrad!" the man shouted, in a thick, Scottish burr. "Miss Hodges has tried to murder me. I have regrettably been forced to fire her."
In shock, Archibald's gaze fell on the blonde woman he guessed was Miss Hodges. Her dainty pink mouth was fixed into a firm line and her slender, upturned nose wrinkled between a pair of sapphire blue eyes. She had a slim figure and elegant features that belied her capability for murder.
"Mr. Turner," she said, in a London accent that took Archibald by surprise. "Mr. Green is getting into the props. I caught him trying to scarper off with this cane and it's not the first time. Please inform Mr. Green that my prop closet is not for accessorizing his wardrobe." She made an admirable attempt to jab Mr. Green with the tip of the cane, but the stringy man, spry for his age as he was, jumped out of her reach.
"See," he said, gesturing wildly to his aggressor. "Attempted murder."
"This is outrageous," Miss Hodges said.
"Jasper... Grace..." Conrad cleared his throat loudly to silence the pair. "We have company."
Archibald watched the woman, Grace was her name, in shock partly because he was verging on desperate to speak with a fellow Brit outside of his immediate family, and also in part because she was stunningly beautiful. She gave him an appraising glance that made his insides freeze, then said to him and to Harry as well, "I don't care how much you've invested in this theater, don't touch the props." She then turned on her heel and disappeared through a fold in the curtain.
"Who is she?" Archibald said once he found his voice.
"That," Conrad replied, "is Grace Hodges, my stage manager."
Harry gave a low whistle. "I commend you for bringing a Scot and a Brit to work together under one roof."
"Grace is the best in the business," Jasper said as he made his way down from the stage. "—Even if she is a bit homicidal."
Archibald made a note to find some way to introduce himself to Grace. He turned to Messrs Green and Turner. "Please let me know if there's any way I can help with the production of... what was it called?"
"The Sorcerer of the Seine," they answered in unison.
"Ah, yes. I haven't heard of that one. Is it a new Gilbert and Sullivan show?"
Conrad shook his head and smoothed the wrinkles out of the sleeve of his purple jacket. "No, it's by someone even better: Theodore and Stanley."
Archibald cast a wary glance at his friend. Harry's dark brows were pushed together in concern. "I've never heard of a Theodore and Stanley," Harry said. "How are we supposed to fill seats when the show is something no one will have heard of?"
A look passed between Jasper and his business partner.
"Let us worry about that," Conrad said with a cloying smile that wasn't as reassuring as he'd meant it to be. "We'll make sure the seats are filled on opening night, even if the Knickerbockers just come to see us fail."
"We're auditioning for our leads this afternoon, but we can discuss your possible involvement in the show over dinner?" Jasper said. "We have a standing Tuesday reservation at the Bowen Restaurant if you'd care to join us."
"That sounds lovely," Harry said. "You should bring Olivia. I recall you saying she's always had a great enthusiasm for the theater. This could prove to be a thrilling diversion for her."
"A wonderful idea," Archibald said.
"Then it's settled. Seven o'clock at the Bowen." Jasper clasped his hands together with enthusiasm. "We shall make a splendid little party."
Conrad didn't seem so thrilled, but he professed his agreement with a nod.
Archibald and Harry made their leave as the auditioners would soon arrive, but Archibald couldn't leave without a glance back at the stage in the hopes of catching one more glance of the Civic Opera House's beautiful stage manager.
His curiosity was not rewarded and he left the theater with only the memory of her appraising gaze and the swish of her bustle as she had disappeared behind the curtain.
Thank you all for reading and thank you all so much for being patient with my lack of updates. I started a new job this week on very short notice, so my writing schedule got all sorts of thrown. Anyways, I have all the rest of this week off, so I should be able to update more regularly!
Also, this chapter is dedicated to the wonderful GratianaLovelace as a thank you for her support of Carols & Courtship! My heart goes out to you and your love for Richard Armitage whose beautiful tall, dark and handsomeness was a major part of my inspiration for Archibald Colston. Thank you so much for your support! It means the world to me!