Pascale Auber & the Ruritanian Riddle

XL At the Theatre - 2

When I was a child, we had sat in the second balcony. Our seats were not terrible, by any means – there are no terrible seats at the Aosta – but they were relatively inexpensive. The box Theo had booked, on the other hand, was one of the finest in the theatre. When the white-gloved fingers of the obsequious little usher parted the red velvet curtain at the doorway, I very nearly gasped.

I had always assumed that, because of their position on the wings of the theatre, boxes had a poor view of the stage. I can now report that this assumption is completely incorrect. The stage lies before you like your personal domain – all the more so, when we entered, for most of the seats below us were still empty. Even after dallying at the cafe (Theo had bought me a hot chocolate, and himself a coffee drowned in whipped cream, and we split an enormous pain au chocolat) we were still rather early; so early that the stage curtain had not yet been closed to permit the preparations before the first act. Indeed, as I lowered myself onto my blue velvet seat – it was like sitting on a marshmallow-covered cloud – the musicians began streaming into the orchestra pit.

I stood again, one hand on the smooth, dark wood of the railing, looking for Blaise among the soberly-clad musicians. He looked up for an instant, trombone in one hand, as he placed his music on a black wire stand. I waved. He smiled, then frowned, and took his seat. I sunk back into mine, delighting at the gilt decoration that marked both the inside and the outside of the box structure itself.

As the curtains were finally pulled closed and orchestra began to tune up, Theo turned to me, his eyes sparkling. "Well, Miss Auber, do the seats meet with your approval?"

I could feel my smile stretch my cheeks. "Most assuredly so, Mr. von Hentzau! I feel like a queen!"

"Well, I do believe Her Majesty prefers that box," he gestured across the theatre to the same box on the opposite side, "But this is quite as good, and besides, it allows you to see your brother."

I got over my surprise at his knowledge of the queen's preferences quickly. Presumably this was something he might have learned from his half-brother, the king of Ruritania.  "One would think you had set this up so that he might watch us, rather than the reverse" I laughed.

"Well, we bear watching!" Theo retorted, raising an eyebrow. "If we were not out in such a public place, he would be well within his rights to chaperone us."

I want to work in cryptography. The only way I will achieve that goal is to impress my boss. The only way to do that is to follow his orders - in this case, to endear myself to one Theo von Hentzau. I opened my eyes wide, smiled up at him and, quite literally, batted my eyelashes. "And I suppose you think we need a chaperon, Mr. von Hentzau?"

His smile was gentle as he leaned in towards me. "But of course, Miss Auber," he murmured.

His hand came up to caress my cheek, and I leaned in further, towards the gentle touch. My own gloved hand wandered, searching for somewhere to land, and ended up on the knee of his trousers. He bent his head towards mine, and I looked up at him, surprised. My heart fluttered near the base of my throat. 

Under other circumstances, I might have allowed him to kiss me. This close to him, his intoxicating scent - the cardamom now overlain by chocolate and coffee - invaded my senses and drew me inwards, a siren call promising a certain, quiet happiness if I were simply to lean into his solid frame. I felt oddly warm, and pulled back slightly.

This was too much, too fast; this was not a true courtship, and there was no impending engagement to render a public kiss socially acceptable. We were on display to any of the patrons who were starting to crowd into the theatre. Orders or no orders, quiet happiness or not, I simply could not allow him to kiss me. I had to think quickly.

I continued to look up at Theo, my lips parting slightly. Then I said, "My brother can see us, Mr. von Hentzau."

Theo pulled back as if stung, folding his hands in his lap like a child. I glanced down at the orchestra pit; Blaise was tuning his trombone and ignoring us. I settled back in my chair, feeling relieved, but oddly unsatisfied. There was no time to reflect on the feeling, however, as the houselights were extinguished and the show began.

You have no idea how much agony was provoked by the fact that there are multiple acceptable spellings of 'chaperone'.  Should I go for that somewhat old-fashioned, masculine version without the 'e' or stick with the modern-looking, now-standard, but rather feminine version with the 'e' . . . and then, should I stick with the same spelling for the verb or not?!

Do you think I made the right choices?