Draining the Humor (5)- a night at the opera

5-a night at the opera

The Arteberrys and the Hookwells set up a date for an outing.
Lucy had a supporting role in an upcoming London opera, and the couples decided the event would be a good occasion to socialize afterwards.
Orion arranged to get them a booth, but stepping up the stairs, a foot shot out of one of the private booths and Orion nearly tripped.
The curtains were drawn aside and Charles revealed himself. He smirked at the couple and Bri’s laugh erupted. Half the opera house turned to stare and hiss for silence. Bri hid her face in Orion’s shirt as he shrugged and stepped forward.
Bri took in Charles’ appearance. As always, he was appealing, though today he had dressed rather nicely for his wife’s show. Not like a sailor at all. He even had his longish hair pulled back, giving him an almost feminine look.
But there was someone there Bri recognized but could not name.
The muscular blonde man she had seen at Lucy’s piano a few weeks ago.
“Charles, we were heading to our booth,” Orion announced.
“Nonsense. You’re sitting with Amadeus and I. He is a bore in conversation. A good chap, but a bloody bore.”
Amadeus shrugged, apparently used to Charles’ bluntness.
“Have we met?” Bri interrupted, nodding to Amadeus.
Already, Charles was eyeing Orion. The earl looked away shyly and Bri squeezed his hand.
Amadeus answered gruffly, his voice thick with a German accent, “Ch’ay. Not formally. Amadeus Frunberg, my lady.”
“Brigid Hookwell,” she gave a small bow. “And this is my husband Lord Hookwell.”
Amadeus nodded in acknowledgement, apparently a man of few words.
Charles easily compensated for Amadeus’ silence.
“Lucy sings a love song and then exits. I’m considering doing the same, except I’d be beaten if I left early. Perhaps you two can bloody well entertain me during this thing.”
“You don’t like opera, Mr. Arteberry?” Bri asked.
“Charles does not like most things,” Orion spoke as he allowed his wife to sit first. “He can be quite harsh.”
“But that is what you like about me, isn’t it, my lord?”
Orion merely changed the topic. “What is the role your wife shall play?”
“A Queen reminiscing a young romance. Her lover died as a result of their copulating and because he was a commoner had his head whacked off. It’s tearful and lovely and all that mess. Brigid,” Charles snapped them out of their comfort zone by calling her by her first name. “I know my brother Stephen must have taken you to operas before. Did you ever fall asleep during one?”
“I think they sing too loud for me to go to sleep, Charles,” she returned the casual address. “Have you?”
“No, but I have had my cock sucked in one of these private booths. During a very long solo from a diva. I find people suck better when they are bored.”
Amadeus rolled his eyes and Bri took Orion’s hand.
Charles was as aggressive as she recalled. Orion’s emotions were not yet legible. He was staring ahead at the stage as the overture came swelling to its grand middle. His green eyes cleared a bit and he turned to look at Charles.
It was then Bri wondered how two creatures, so contrast in their ways, could have united even for one night of passion.
“Charles, will you behave for your wife’s sake?” Orion asked.
“I wonder if I ever have,” Charles challenged the earl.
Bri would be more comfortable talking to Charles and Orion about their ulterior motifs if Amadeus was not present. She looked the man over. He was rather strapping, but did not seem the type Charles would befriend. Charles’ brown eyes narrowed when he saw Bri surveying Amadeus. He quipped, “I see you like Germans, Brigid.”
Bri laughed. “As pleasant as you are, Charles. I believe my husband and I will go to our own booth now. He did pay good money for it, after all.”
She squeezed Orion’s hand and he stood, apparently agreeing. If he had not, he would contradict her. Sometimes he did, as he was not one to follow blindly, something Bri admired in him. But he was also submissive when he agreed with a thing. And right now their private booth sounded good. They would reunite with their friends later.
Charles watched with an annoyed expression as they left. Bri sensed he would follow and leave Amadeus alone. Perhaps then, the three of them could discuss things. But the overture was coming to an end and Bri doubted there would be time to discuss anything at all.
Orion gestured again, allowing Bri to sit first. She stared up at him when she was seated and tugged his hand affectionately. He sat beside her and they shared a quick kiss.
“No snogging during the overture,” came Charles’ snide voice.
They met with his mocking gaze as he seated himself to Orion’s left. Bri rolled her eyes at the sailor. At least he was not unappealing like Lawrence. He was more the type Orion should be with, physically. There was always something delicate about Charles’ face, as though he were sad beneath the difficult mask he wore. Bri knew that about two years prior, Charles and Lucy’s daughter Adelaide had gone missing. She guessed the missing child would have something to do with Charles’ melancholy.
Now he was smiling at Orion, genuinely it seemed. “I apologize for Amadeus. He is a family friend and we try to include him in our outings. He enjoys solitude at times. It shows in his response when I speak to him.”
“Perhaps your conversation does not stimulate him,” Orion’s deep voice contrasted Charles’ both in softness and depth.
Charles crooned, “Is someone critical of my conversational skills?”
“Not at all, Arteberry. I find you very engaging, when you choose to be.”
The two men exchanged mocking looks as the music stopped and all went silent. Bri wrapped her arm around her husband’s arm and rested her head on his shoulder.
As the opera opened and the singers demanded attention, all was peaceful. However, Bri was quickly lost to the plotline.
“Muffin,” she whispered. “Did you grab a program?”
“No, love. I’m sorry.”
Charles rolled his eyes, “Orion, your wife’s whisper is louder than her speaking voice!”
“I’m right here, Mr. Arteberry! If you have a complaint, you can direct it toward me.”
“Ah, but you are sitting way over there.”
“Children,” Orion spoke up softly, “Let’s be polite…”
With that Bri and Charles simmered down. However, Bri dwelt on Charles’ little insult. He had always been such a heel, but why could he not be upfront about it with her as he was with everyone else? Why could he not be a heel to her face? It had always been so, even when Bri was Stephen’s wife.
Stephen, your wife laughs like a man.
Bri was fuming when she heard Charles mumble something about a solo a little soprano had did. Something about it being “subtle.” Of course, he was being sarcastic. Bri rolled her eyes and whispered loudly “Orion, you’re right. Your lover doesn’t care for most things!”
“Orion, your wife is ‘whispering’ again,” Charles shot back.
“If you have complaints, I’m right here!” Bri exclaimed.
“She sounds quite angry, my lord! Did you bring her medicine?”
“Medicine! I don’t have medicine, you twat!”
“Brigid!” Orion looked at her.
By now, their voices were raised and someone pulled their curtain aside and thrust their head in. “Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
The three of them shut their mouths. Orion looked at his shoes, Bri folded her arms to pout and Charles grinned at both of them triumphantly.
Bri seethed as she stared at him, wanting to smack the smirk off his face. The thought that he had ever touched her innocent Orion made her stomach turn.
“You are a mite,” she hissed in a whisper. “A nasty, snarky little blood-sucking mite!”
Charles snorted and said nothing. He seemed quite proud to be insulted.
“Brigid, love, please…” Orion begged her for silence.
Surely someone would complain to them again if they kept arguing. But now Bri could not focus on the opera. She lifted her opera-glasses to view the performers better, but her mind was still elsewhere.
When she heard Charles mumble one more thing, she lost her temper.
“You be quiet, you! And don’t touch my husband!”
With that, Orion stood, threw back the side curtain and stepped out. Bri and Charles watched him before Bri felt her heart sink. She dropped the opera glasses and hurried after him down the stairs.
“Muffin!” she yelled. “Muffin! I’m sorry!”
He was not turning back around. He was returning to the booth with Amadeus, escaping Bri and Charles.
When she caught up with him, he was about to duck into the booth. All eyes in the audience were following them as the opera players continued valiantly on with their performance.
“I’m sorry, Rion! Come back.”
“Do not follow me, Brigid.”
“But—“
“You embarrass me. Argue with him but do it without me,” he spoke to her with a sideways glance, cold.
Then he disappeared into the booth with Amadeus. Bri hung her head and progressed back up the steps in shame. Eyes were still on her. When she returned to the booth with Charles, he was no longer grinning. Like her, he seemed shaken by Orion’s departure.
By the time Lucy appeared on the stage to sing her sad song, Bri and Charles had whispered their apologies. At the short intermission, she asked, “How long do you think he will be angry at me?”
“Hell hath no wrath like an insecure earl, my dear. But you know the bugger better than I…though if I remember correctly, he has a big heart.”
Bri had detected a hint of real sadness in Charles when Lucy was singing. Perhaps he was not completely without sentiment.
“I am going to run to the booth and apologize to him…”
“You had better run fast, my lady.”
“How long do I have?”
“Not long. The intermission is as long as your patience.”
She took the jibe in stride and then stood, ready to scurry to Orion to apologize.
© 2011 Luz Briar.