An Afternoon Diversion (John Saville and Sophy Elliot)
Who: John Saville and Sophy Elliot What: Sophy and John enjoy an afternoon diversion Where: No 4 Marlborough Street (The Elliot residence); and later, the Bijou Theatre When: Sunday, August 21 around 4pm Warnings: None! Summary: John picks up Sophy from home, and the cousins catch up on their way to the theatre.
The Saville carriage was a familiar bit of fanfare down this particular street, gliding on polished wheels over the landscape and swishing up fallen leaves on the corners. It was a fine covered thing upholstered in soft red fabric on the inside, and drawn by two glossy ebony horses on the outside. The driver aimed the carriage up the street leisurely, pulling into the drive of the Elliott household. The man stepped down from the tall seat and opened the door for his master, bowing his head slightly as the young man passed. John Saville emerged in good, trim form, dressed in a fashionable black suit and top hat, a cane on the crook of his elbow and white kid gloves over his hands. However, in true John fashion, his tie was something else all together, for he hadn't the sense to wear a plain black tie under his white waistcoat. No, it simply must have been something as flashy as the theater itself, a swatch of orange silk studded in gold embroidered stars in the fashion of a tapestry of India.
The door opened for him, John stepped inside and slipped off his hat, grinning from ear to ear at the sounds of the house before him. He knew all the inhabitants by their footsteps, and there were two in particular his ears were pricked up to. His cousin Sophia's, and that of his dear Auntie's. He simply could not wait for the word that he had arrived to greet them, shuffling expectantly in place.
Sophy admired herself in the mantle mirror as she waited for her cousin to arrive. She was in a new walking dress in a rather striking shade of blue but the crowning piece of her costume was the smart little hat she purchased from the milliner on Newbury Street. Turning one way then another, Sophy smiled at her reflection, pleased that the silk ribbons and tiny quail feathers complimented her eyes. She prayed her mother wouldn't require a long audience with her 'beloved nephew', as she was wont to do, and Sophy looked up excitedly when the door to the parlor was opened.
"Mr Saville is here," the maid announced, holding out the tray with his card. Sophy's mother humphed unhappily. "Knock before you enter, Scanlon," Mrs Elliot snapped, and the maid bobbed her head.
"Yes, m'am." The young Irish stood nervously in the doorway a moment, then repeated: Mr Saville--"
"Yes, Scanlon. Thank you." Mrs Elliot gestured for the tray and the maid shuffled over, blushing under her employer's unamused glare.
"I do hate training new servants," she muttered and Sophy rolled her eyes, careful to make sure her mother didn't see her. "I'll need my shawl, Scanlon," Sophy announced but her mother made a scoffing noise. The maid paused at the door, clearly at a loss, and she waited. Mrs Elliot continued:
"You will hardly race out of her like some heathen; surely we can have a cup of tea--"
"Mother, Rev Mather is counting on us," Sophy hedged, but she fell silent when her mother stood. "Scanlon, we'll be in the morning room. Have cook send up a tray of tea and the biscuits John favors." The maid slipped out of the room before receiving another contradictory set of commands and Sophy sighed unhappily as her mother stood.
"Rev Mather will understand your delay," Mrs Elliot began as she sailed out of the parlor, and Sophy followed her, half listening. She kept her face smooth lest John think she was somehow vexed with him, and as they descended the stairs, she increased her pace, wanting to greet her cousin first.
"John!" Sophy smiled at the sight of the handsome man in the foyer, and she flitted to his side, greeting him with a light kiss on the cheek.
"Oh, John." Mrs Elliot's voice fell and she stared at John for a moment. "Where ever did you find that monstrosity?" Sophy shot her mother a look and beamed at her cousin.
"I think it's rather grand," she declared, looping her arm through his. "Quite exotic," but Mrs Elliot humphed, only less condemning than before.
"Too exotic for Sunday," she countered, but her expression softened. "Come, John, give me a kiss."
John lifted his chin to gaze up the stairs, all aglow at the sight of the women who descended to him. When his cousin was at his side he drank in her cheek kisses and returned them eagerly, always a glutton for affection. One only had to pat his head a little for him to purr with happiness.
"Sophia, dearest!" John cooed in return. "Magnificent as always. Why, I--"
He stopped speaking upon hearing the disapproval in his Auntie's voice, letting his hands fall away from Sophia and taking a step back self-consciously.
"Why, Auntie... What ever do you mean?" he asked, though he knew exactly what she meant. He glanced down at his tie. "It's from France. The salesman had it sent from Paris just for me. I was so pleased..."
It was just too bad that Auntie didn't agree, but nevertheless he felt bolstered by Sophy's encouragement and, giving her hand a pat, went to appease his aunt with a soft, deferring kiss on the cheek.
"I will take the utmost care of Sophia, as always." he promised. "We shall return promptly before it is too late and there will certainly be no mischief."
Of course. With Sophia there was never any mischief. The source of all of John's punishments as a child was as insubstantial as thin air.
Mrs Elliot looked crestfallen and Sophy struggled to hide her triumphant grin. "Invite John for dinner, Mother, if you are so determined to see him," she groused, and she impetuously kissed John on the cheek once more. "But we must be off." She stalked to the corridor to look for the maid and when she had the girl's attention, requested her shawl.
"Why not stay for a cup of tea," Mrs Elliot tried but Sophy shook her head. "No, John has the carriage waiting, I am sure," and she looked at her cousin for confirmation. She felt guilty for doubting John: he was utterly, entirely, absolutely dependable; and she rewarded him with another bright smile.
As dependable, and perhaps as predictable, as promised, John nodded his head to Sophy in confirmation. "Yes, I've brought the carriage. I simply could not imagine inconveniencing my dearest cousin by not having it." Though it was a very rude move perhaps, surely she would think nothing of it so when John was sure his face was at such an angle that Auntie could not see, he tossed Sophy a quick wink.
Then, falling into his role perhaps, he turned back to his aunt and settled his most earnest, puppy-eyed gaze at her, letting his lips pout out a little.
"Oh, Auntie, you must surely know that few moments mean more to me than our wonderful afternoons at tea. We will be late for the show if we do not make haste to the theater, but please say that you will keep a cup warm for me! It pains me so not to accept it now, but I will gladly join you tomorrow afternoon."
That should have been enough sap to satisfy her, he hoped, so John took the liberty of glancing over at Sophy as if truly exasperated on the inside at her hurrying. He offered her his arm to take her out into the evening air after she was dressed to her own satisfaction. Scanlon arrived then with the shawl and Sophy allowed herself a smile. "So it is decided," she pronounced, and she took the swathe of fabric from the maid and kissed her mother's cheek.
"Theater?" Mrs Elliot echoed suspiciously but Sophy lifted a hand dismissively. "After our charity work," she promised, refusing to look at John, and she folded the shawl over her arm.
"You cannot deny me my diversions," Sophy started, her voice hinting at a pout, and after a moment her mother relented. "Listen to John," Mrs Elliot warned and Sophy nodded. "Always, Mother." Another quick kiss on her mother's cheek then Sophy spun on her heel, striding over to John.
"You belong on the stage, dear cousin," Sophy murmured as they left the house, and she gave his arm a squeeze. "And that is quite an exceptional tie. Is it really from Paris?"
It was not until he was walking away that John realized he nearly blew the entire charade, shivering with a little chill. Well, that was embarrassing!
Fortunately, Auntie didn't seem to be paying her best attention, and Sophy had covered for him flawlessly. He swallowed, looking over at her gratefully as he lead her like a gentleman down the drive and to the waiting carriage. The footman leaped from the seat once more to open the door for the lady, greeting her with a humble half-bow. When it was his turn to enter after Sophia, John sat down quickly knotted his hands together sheepishly.
"...oops," he murmured softly, but didn't fall too far into despair, for once again Sophy rescued him. He laughed at her assertion that he should be in theater, shaking his head rapidly. "I could never do such a thing. I would perish in front of everyone."
The carriage took off with a start, the horses clopping back down the street and on their way to their destination. In truth, John looked forward to being in the theater, surrounded by the ostentatious personalities he loved. His nerves vibrated with anticipation. Judging by those he gathered to his side... the bold Alec Bowdoin, slinky and fashionable Allaster Holt, indulgent and whimsical Henry Wilder, and even Sophia herself... one might conjecture that he adored such scandalous personalities as a gardener adored hot house orchids.
As an afterthought, John frowned and grabbed at the knot of his tie, looking a touch wounded. "Of course it's from Paris!"
Sophy burst into laughter at John's chagrined murmur and she patted his arm gently. "There, there, darling, all is well," she purred, and she glanced out the window of the carriage, idly noting those they passed. She was anticipating the afternoon: the murderous plot of the show as well as the slightly disreputable nature of the Bijou theatre promised diversion enough, but to be out with her engaged cousin meant she was safe from gossip but available for introductions. Sophy was always alert to the possibility of a suitor.
"So, cousin, how are your classes?" Sophy settled back into her seat and folded her hands in her lap. "Tell me everything." 'Everything' was shorthand, of course, for the juiciest tidbits of gossip, and Sophy smiled at John, eager for his observations. He was good natured enough to see everyone in a positive light and without guile, which meant he passed on more information than might always be seemly -- and for that, Sophy loved him.
Being out was a little less interesting for John than Sophia in that sense. Ladies tended not to get too attached to speaking with him, for nobody wanted to risk the wrath of the venerable Talbots who barely spoke, even kindly, to anyone else. It was as if John walked with the stench of death upon him. No one dared tempt it, lest it snatch them up too. He had never made a show of foot-stomping or complaining, but had whispered his displeasure to those close enough to him to know his darkest secrets. Those being his little brother and Sophia. He wished for introductions himself, and every so often met someone he simply could not stand not to beg Sophia for, but for the most part stood by like a sweetly smiling stone while she had her fun. He took his pleasure from their escorts and brothers, discussing the latest this or that in gentlemens' conversation.
When Sophy asked about his classes, John brightened into an impish grin. "Oh, there is always something brewing!" he said with gleeful embellishment, tapping his hands together. "I understand that over the summer Edward Jackson the Third went on holiday in Algiers."
Algiers. Where men went to spend time with other men.
"With Theodore Saltonstall. Doesn't that sound delightful? To spend all summer in such an exotic locale!" John sighed wistfully. True to form, he had missed the high point of that bit of gossip.
"Algiers?!" Sophy echoed, making a face "I should not like the heat, I think," and she gestured out the window. "This summer has been unbearably warm." The observation was hardly interesting and Sophy sighed. "Mr Saltonstall is expected to announce his engagement before the end of the month, you know." She looked back at John, returning his grin, and she leaned forward. "You wouldn't leave me for Algiers, would you?" Perhaps after his marriage he would choose an extended honeymoon; Sophy wasn't sure what she envied more: the opportunity for travel or his upcoming nuptials.
"Now, tell me more," she coaxed, and she went through her mental list of acquaintances. Suddenly: "Do you know Mr Charles Perkins? Mother had Elisabeth and her husband over," and Sophy yawned. Her older sister was unbearably boring and the only diversion then had been her brother-in-law's charming younger sibling. "Mr Perkins is in today's show." She lifted her eyebrow, as if shocked, and grinned at her cousin.
"Saltonstall, hmm? I knew, yes, but I haven't the faintest idea who his fiancee is to be. It will surely be an interesting announcement either way. When I tried to talk to Jackson about it, he seemed almost ill. His eyes came out of his head all strangely." To illustrate, John widened his eyes into big, blue eggs in the middle of his face, hoping to get a laugh out of Sophy. "I wonder if that means he doesn't like her?"
His expression melted away when she asked her question, and he smiled softly. A gentle hand lifted to brush the underside of her chin fondly. He was always affectionate in private, to anyone. He had less than an ideal concept of personal space for some friends. "Never, dearest. You shall always be safe with me."
The carriage stopped and they were before the theater. John pulled away to return to proper space before the driver opened the door, letting them out. He slid out of the carriage first and held his hand out to Sophy to help her down.
"Charles Perkins?" The name gave him pause. He pressed his lips together tightly and squeaked a yes, pretending to be too distracted by the noise and excitement of the theater to give the name a lot of thought.
Sophy clung to John's arm as they entered the theatre, her query immediately forgotten. The Bijou was Romanesque Revival with a dramatic facade and huge stone pillars, the entrance flush to the street, yawning wide and bright. Behind them, Washington Street echoed with the clatter of carriages and the voices from neighboring vendors. The milling crowd spilled from the carpeted foyer out to the street and Sophy and John moved slowly into the building.
Sophy found the buzz and murmur of so many people invigorating and she squeezed John's arm, delighted. This was vastly preferable to charity work with the dour Rev Mather and his even more dour sister; this was the life she wanted -- and expected -- to have. "See anyone we know?" Sophy asked, carefully craning her neck. "Handsome unattached classmates perhaps?"
John too could not deny that the atmosphere was positively intoxicating. Perfume and feathered plumes and silk flowers on hats and swishes of rich fabric and the clack of gentlemen's canes; it was all beautiful. Though he could never make himself be cruel enough to voice the opinion, he would much rather be here than showing his Christian compassion in toiling with the reverend as well. He clung to Sophy in equal measure to her squeezing, unable to keep the grin of exhilaration off of his face. It seemed a love for all things beautiful ran in the family, and at Sophy's behest John scanned the faces of the crowd for something even more beautiful to look at.
"No luck yet, I'm afraid." he said discreetly. "You'll just have to enjoy seeing the fine work of Mr. Perkins inside. You'll meet him very soon, my dear. I showed him to our favorite luncheon spot and he was delighted." That was a bit of code he knew would be understood, and he hoped Sophia was excited. John had taken Charlie by the flat and gotten him to join their ranks, which was a blessing when John had been bemoaning the lack of a theater expert for some time.
The pair of cousins were a sight to behold as well, though surely by their ages they didn't think of it as often as they used to when they were new to society. Every so often someone from equal echelons lifted his hat or nodded to them behind a fan, and John returned the gestures with grace until they could check their outerwear and find their way up into the better seats. John being as he was, he would not let Sophy anticipate a play and then force her to view it from some awful spot.