Chapter 715: Between Moments

The middle-aged man standing on the left exudes authority, tall and upright in a navy blue plaid suit. His gray and white temples blend with the passing of time, and his piercing eyes seem to light up his entire face. The woman beside him on the right is poised and graceful, dressed in a long red lace evening gown. Her ancient Greek goddess-inspired design is both understated and elegant, exuding nobility and refinement. Her high bun emphasizes her delicate features, and the passage of time has only enhanced her beauty.

George Hall and Elizabeth Hall.

Together, they enter the room, their steps deliberate and composed, occasionally nodding politely to the crowd around them. Their calm presence forces the onlookers to avert their gazes, only to sneak peeks from the corner of their eyes. The conversation continues, filled with pleasantries, but the energy around them has shifted—distracted and distant.

When their footsteps halt next to Renly and John, their shadow briefly blocks John's view, interrupting his words. Reflexively, he looks up, meeting Elizabeth's gaze. She greets him with a warm smile, "How have you been, Mr. Codd? I caught your performance in Nicholas Nickleby last week—truly remarkable."

Nicholas Nickleby, based on the novel by Charles Dickens, is a beloved classic in the UK.

"It's my pleasure," John replies, expressing gratitude. "But honestly, I still believe Renly would be the perfect choice. At his age, it's hard to imagine anyone more suitable for the role. Nicholas, after all, is a young man in his early twenties."

Renly raises an eyebrow, intrigued by this information. He hadn't heard of the production, but instead of acknowledging George and Elizabeth, he turns to John. "When did rehearsals for this version begin?"

"Around March last year," John responds candidly, unaware of the tension simmering between the two parties. "I've been waiting for your response until the very last moment. So, don't tell me you still want to return to the stage. You turned down Nicholas Nickleby last year, and now you're claiming to be busy. Let me tell you, Renly, if you keep this up, your craft will be wasted."

That was before War in the Pacific aired. Renly had been idle, not yet involved in any major projects. Had he known about the Nickleby auditions, he likely would have been eager to join.

But why hadn't Renly heard of it?

Renly's gaze lingers on George and Elizabeth, who remain remarkably calm—almost too calm. "I think you're right. Dame Dench comes back to the West End every two years. Perhaps I should continue this fine tradition," he responds, deflecting John's concerns with ease.

George turns toward Elizabeth, his expression unchanging, "It's winter. Everyone is staying home, too lazy to even visit the theater. Only tourists are left. The so-called 'classics' are now little more than tourist attractions. There is no art, no creation. It's time for them to fade away. What do you think, Mr. Codd?"

This is a topic of heated debate in the art world and high society alike. They don't want to attend performances only to be surrounded by tourists who lack an understanding of theater. What they fear is not an audience expressing their views loudly, but rather one that doesn't care at all, and lacks basic theater etiquette.

Before John can respond, Renly steps in, "Modern society is always too impatient. It's quick to abandon traditional arts and cling to shallow trends and etiquette. On one hand, it resists progress, while on the other, it refuses to understand the true meaning of tradition. This is how art dies."

What appears to be a discussion about art is, in reality, a debate over rules. Beneath Renly's words lies a sharp edge.

Caught between the two sides, Eaton feels as though he's trapped in the middle. His gaze flickers between George and Renly, unsure of how to navigate this tension.

"Is it like a library?" Elizabeth interjects, bringing the conversation back on track. She had brought up Nicholas Nickleby to ease the social tension, but in her moment of distraction, she forgets John's invitation to Renly. She doesn't panic, however. "Young people today are so used to reading on their computers. The role of libraries is diminishing, and even paper books seem to be fading. Who knows what the future holds? Art should retain its true form. If it becomes nothing more than a commercial commodity, it should be sealed away, like a painting in a museum."

Renly responds quickly, "Then we should stop young people from entering museums, and when the older generation fades, art will fade with them."

His words hit their mark. George and Elizabeth exchange a tense glance. Renly's challenge is clear.

Elizabeth presses on, "The library won't die, even if everyone uses their phones to read. The status of art remains. Museums will continue to serve their purpose, but we must also recognize the new characteristics of art in the digital age."

Renly takes the conversation further, "Film is called the seventh art because it combines elements of various art forms: painting, drama, literature, and music. It's its own unique field. Whether for art or commerce, at its core, it's still a form of creative expression. Just like literature and drama, film should be accepted by 'traditionalists.'"

To sum it up:

Shameful film actors. Glorious film actors.

George's gaze intensifies, though he maintains an outwardly calm demeanor. "What about hunting? Should hunting also be eliminated by modern times, or is it keeping up with the times?"

Renly's response is sharp and immediate. "If it's for survival, hunting is part of nature's cycle. But if it's for display or social status, then hunting, like clothing, jewelry, and crowns, is just a tool for vanity. Honestly, there's no difference between hunting and film."

Renly stands his ground, his confidence unwavering under the pressure of George and Elizabeth's scrutiny.

Elizabeth feels George's muscles tense, but she knows better than to challenge him further. The spark of tension between her and Renly ignites a fire in her own chest, but she remains composed.

Renly's move was calculated. He knows they had carefully planned the timing to avoid crossing paths, but he had intentionally chosen the same moment to arrive, making their awkward position unavoidable. The "family scandal" of the Halls is now out in the open.

"Then perhaps you should skip the winter hunting," Elizabeth says with a smile, but there's an icy chill beneath her words. "It would be rather out of place."

Renly politely nods, his smile the perfect counter to her subtle threat. He doesn't need to speak to make his point clear: he has no interest in attending the winter hunt.

But before they can leave, Renly adds, "By the way, I'll be working in Hampshire. You're welcome to visit anytime for the latest updates on the hunt."

George's face darkens, his patience tested. Renly knows exactly how to provoke him. But it's not just George's temper on the line—it's the Hall family's social standing.

Elizabeth subtly signals George to remain calm before stepping forward with a forced smile. "Father and I must leave now. We have to attend the Hamiltons' private party." She pretends to embrace Renly affectionately, but whispers in his ear, "You should learn to behave more appropriately."

Renly smiles knowingly, "You should know your children better."

Elizabeth's subtle hint is clear: Renly should avoid their appearances. Renly's response is equally pointed. Had George and Elizabeth not prearranged the timing, they might have avoided an encounter altogether—but Renly made sure that wouldn't happen. He relished the game.

After a final exchange, George and Elizabeth turn to leave, the tension hanging in the air.