The Sans Pareil Mystery (The Detective Lavender Mysteries Book 2) by Karen Charlton
Authors: Karen Charlton
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on earth didn’t they acknowledge you?’
She sighed. ‘It is a long story, Stephen – and not a happy one. I will tell you some day. Let us take our seats in the theatre. I no longer wish to wait for the arrival of the duke.’
Chapter Six
Their burletta, Mary, the Maid of the Inn; or, The Bough of Yew was based on the tragic story of Robert Southey’s poem ‘Mary’. The story followed a young tavern wench, Mary, who accepted a wager to walk into a haunted abbey on a stormy night and retrieve a yew bough from the chancel. While Mary cowered beneath the ivy-clad ruins she witnessed her idle lover, Richard, and his companion burying the body of a man they had murdered. When Richard is later hanged for the crime, Mary sinks into madness and spends the rest of her life roaming the parish as a wild-eyed beggar.
Before the play began, they were entertained by Toby, the performing dog. The Jack Russell terrier wore a glittering, frilled collar, which matched that of his human handler. Toby walked on his hind-legs, played tricks on his human co-star and jumped through hoops in time to a lively Irish jig played by the theatre’s orchestra. Teresa was enchanted with the little dog’s antics. Flushed and excited, the young maid clapped her hands and rose to her feet with the rest of the boisterous audience to cheer and applaud when Toby bowed and made his exit. But Magdalena seemed unmoved and stared blankly at the stage.
‘There was some trouble at this theatre last week,’ Lavender told her. ‘An audience threatened to riot when they didn’t get the performance that had been billed. I suspect that the management have included the dog act to sweeten their clients.’
‘It was charming,’ she said, quietly. Her despondency contrasted sharply with the ebullient mood of most of the audience who chattered excitedly, waved across the theatre to their friends and consumed copious amounts of alcohol – and in some instances, food – in the stalls below. Apart from the traditional proliferation of oranges in the theatre, some patrons appeared to have brought picnics with them.
‘What do you think of the theatre?’ he asked.
‘It’s pretty,’ she said, refusing to be drawn into further conversation.
Lavender glanced around and found that he agreed with her. The decorations and embellishments of this new theatre were in good taste: glittering gilt candelabras hung from the ceiling and broke up the pastel-coloured wooden inlays of the cream-coloured gallery, which reached around the walls of the auditorium. There was a light and airy feel to the whole place. It compared favourably to the bigger and now destroyed Drury Lane Theatre, where the management had the audience packed like sardines. At the Sans Pareil, their box was commodious and the red cushioned seats were comfortable.
Although melodramatic in the extreme, the play was enlivened by several solo renditions of songs written especially for the show. William Broadhurst, as the villainous lover, Richard, gave a particularly good performance. John Isaacs and Gabriel Gomez also stood out for their excellent singing. But Lavender was disappointed with the quality of Gomez’s acting; the man clearly relied on his singing voice to make his way in the theatre.
Jane Scott herself took the role of Mary. She had both a confident and powerful stage presence and an excellent singing voice. As the actress wept and wailed her way through a sad ballad, Lavender heard several people in the audience sniffle. Even Teresa, whose English was limited, had tears glistening on her soft cheeks.
‘Do you think she sings well?’ he asked Magdalena. Her face was rigid; she was still angry about the incident in the foyer.
‘She has the sweetest voice,’ Magdalena commented, sharply. ‘But I can tell by the way she moves that she was afflicted with rickets as a child.’
Magdalena was sullen and barely spoke while they waited for the curtain to rise on the final act. Lavender
She sighed. ‘It is a long story, Stephen – and not a happy one. I will tell you some day. Let us take our seats in the theatre. I no longer wish to wait for the arrival of the duke.’
Chapter Six
Their burletta, Mary, the Maid of the Inn; or, The Bough of Yew was based on the tragic story of Robert Southey’s poem ‘Mary’. The story followed a young tavern wench, Mary, who accepted a wager to walk into a haunted abbey on a stormy night and retrieve a yew bough from the chancel. While Mary cowered beneath the ivy-clad ruins she witnessed her idle lover, Richard, and his companion burying the body of a man they had murdered. When Richard is later hanged for the crime, Mary sinks into madness and spends the rest of her life roaming the parish as a wild-eyed beggar.
Before the play began, they were entertained by Toby, the performing dog. The Jack Russell terrier wore a glittering, frilled collar, which matched that of his human handler. Toby walked on his hind-legs, played tricks on his human co-star and jumped through hoops in time to a lively Irish jig played by the theatre’s orchestra. Teresa was enchanted with the little dog’s antics. Flushed and excited, the young maid clapped her hands and rose to her feet with the rest of the boisterous audience to cheer and applaud when Toby bowed and made his exit. But Magdalena seemed unmoved and stared blankly at the stage.
‘There was some trouble at this theatre last week,’ Lavender told her. ‘An audience threatened to riot when they didn’t get the performance that had been billed. I suspect that the management have included the dog act to sweeten their clients.’
‘It was charming,’ she said, quietly. Her despondency contrasted sharply with the ebullient mood of most of the audience who chattered excitedly, waved across the theatre to their friends and consumed copious amounts of alcohol – and in some instances, food – in the stalls below. Apart from the traditional proliferation of oranges in the theatre, some patrons appeared to have brought picnics with them.
‘What do you think of the theatre?’ he asked.
‘It’s pretty,’ she said, refusing to be drawn into further conversation.
Lavender glanced around and found that he agreed with her. The decorations and embellishments of this new theatre were in good taste: glittering gilt candelabras hung from the ceiling and broke up the pastel-coloured wooden inlays of the cream-coloured gallery, which reached around the walls of the auditorium. There was a light and airy feel to the whole place. It compared favourably to the bigger and now destroyed Drury Lane Theatre, where the management had the audience packed like sardines. At the Sans Pareil, their box was commodious and the red cushioned seats were comfortable.
Although melodramatic in the extreme, the play was enlivened by several solo renditions of songs written especially for the show. William Broadhurst, as the villainous lover, Richard, gave a particularly good performance. John Isaacs and Gabriel Gomez also stood out for their excellent singing. But Lavender was disappointed with the quality of Gomez’s acting; the man clearly relied on his singing voice to make his way in the theatre.
Jane Scott herself took the role of Mary. She had both a confident and powerful stage presence and an excellent singing voice. As the actress wept and wailed her way through a sad ballad, Lavender heard several people in the audience sniffle. Even Teresa, whose English was limited, had tears glistening on her soft cheeks.
‘Do you think she sings well?’ he asked Magdalena. Her face was rigid; she was still angry about the incident in the foyer.
‘She has the sweetest voice,’ Magdalena commented, sharply. ‘But I can tell by the way she moves that she was afflicted with rickets as a child.’
Magdalena was sullen and barely spoke while they waited for the curtain to rise on the final act. Lavender
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