The Greatest Showman #1306 - Aristocratic Dinner

The sunset glow in the sky was burning recklessly, painting the atmosphere in hues of gold and crimson, while the sky itself revealed a clear shimmer that resembled ink slowly dripping into clear water, spreading in layers. The dark green bushes, light gray buildings, dark red wooden houses, and brown roads were all submerged in shadow, leaving only vague outlines that stretched toward the brilliant light.

In that moment, it was impossible to tell whether it was dawn or just before sunset. The ambiguity of time rendered the sounds around her meaningless, as if the heartbeats in her chest were the only music playing, in sync with the majestic stillness surrounding her. Everything halted—thoughts, words, all faded away—leaving only an overwhelming sense of awe as she absorbed the grandeur of the moment.

It was unimaginable that such a scene could be found in London. The tranquility and majesty often found in Jane Austen's works were embodied here, allowing one to glimpse the enduring beauty of the British Isles.

But this was not London, strictly speaking. It was a suburb of Greater London—or perhaps more accurately, the countryside.

For most, the countryside was seen as the domain of the poor. However, those who resided in the bustling cities knew that the truly wealthy often chose the quiet of the suburbs for their vacations, savoring space and peace that wealth could afford but could never entirely buy—freedom from the noise of the world.

Emma Fielding stood quietly, admiring the manor before her. Its design, rooted in classic British retro style, seemed older than the Victorian period itself. Every corner bore the marks of history, with traces of a noble tradition that had endured through the ages. Though Emma lacked the language to fully describe the architectural nuances, she could sense the legacy the manor held. Its presence alone conveyed a feeling of timeless elegance and aristocratic heritage.

She had heard of the growing trend of spending vacations in such estates. Not only did they offer tranquility and seclusion, but they allowed one to experience a life once enjoyed by the aristocracy, complete with distinguished butlers, professional servants, and all the trappings of high society. It was as though one could step back in time and truly embody the grandeur of days gone by.

Fifteen thousand pounds per night—that was the cost of experiencing such luxury, a price that covered both accommodation and service. Hosting an event, however, would require additional fees.

For the diminishing traditional aristocracy, this income helped sustain their extravagant lifestyles; for the rising new elite, it was an opportunity to bask in a gilded existence, one that enhanced their social stature and solidified their place in the upper echelons of society.

As the manager of the Almeida Theatre, Emma had exposure to many of London's high society, yet she never imagined she would find herself as a guest at one of these extravagant manor gatherings. This was not a rented venue but a private event hosted by the actual owner of the estate, Richard de Ville, the Earl of Oxford. Even receiving an invitation was an honor, and attending was an even greater privilege.

This was a special celebration for the anniversary of Les Miserables at the Almeida Theatre. Although as the theatre's manager, Emma might have been invited out of professional courtesy, the event was also tied to the Earl of Oxford's association with the London Drama Society, which sought to leverage the success of Les Miserables to further the revival of theater.

The Almeida Theatre had earned a reputation for being an innovative pioneer in the industry.

Even now, standing amidst the festivities, Emma's excitement still bubbled within her. The grandeur of the evening overwhelmed her, but she did her best to maintain composure.

She lifted her champagne glass and took a sip to calm her nerves. It was then that a familiar voice called out to her.

"It's best to watch your consumption, or you'll be the one to lose composure soon," said John Codd, his smile mild yet teasing. "You've been holding that glass for a while. Are you drinking or just showing it off?"

Emma, startled, looked at him and realized the glass had been empty for some time. She chuckled, embarrassed. "God, I thought I was hiding it better."

John's grin widened. "Don't worry, we're all just here for the spectacle. The others here are just like monsters—practiced in these grand affairs. It's normal to feel a little out of place."

With a sheepish laugh, Emma confessed, "I think I might need a glass of brandy myself. It's only helping to make me feel less nervous. I'll be fine if I don't show any flaws."

John nodded knowingly and explained, "This brandy trick was something Renly taught me. I never realized it had a purpose until now, I thought it was just a party gimmick."

Emma sighed. "I think I need that glass of brandy, too. I'm so thirsty, I'm practically drowning in this tension." She smiled. "Do you think Renly will be here tonight?"

John shrugged. "Who knows. But I did catch sight of the Halls in the garden earlier. Maybe it was accidental, or maybe it was arranged ahead of time."

"Isn't that just like ordinary families?" Emma commented thoughtfully. "The working-class parents often don't approve of their children becoming actors. They fight it harder than the aristocracy does. But they all end up dealing with it in their own ways."

John paused, considering, before nodding. "True."

Just then, two tall men approached, and John raised his glass of brandy in a subtle gesture. Emma followed suit with her champagne glass. The men exchanged brief pleasantries with them before parting ways.

"Both of them are here. Does that mean Renly will show up soon?" Emma said, turning back to John, only to realize her champagne was empty again. She sighed, wishing for that brandy.

John watched the two men walk away and muttered, "Maybe."

Later in the evening, Eaton-Door straightened his back and rubbed his shoulders, feeling the stiffness of the grand affair. "This isn't just a private event, is it? This feels like something far bigger," he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Andre Hamilton, ever the easygoing presence, chuckled. "Isn't that what you wanted? When you're energetic, you can dive into your work. When you're tired, you can just slip away. It's perfect for someone like you."

Eaton gave a weary look, surrendering to Andre's relentless teasing. "Sometimes, I miss Renly's quietness. Even Matthew would be better company than this."

As the two of them wandered toward the host of the evening, Richard de Ville, they exchanged a few words. Richard, always cordial, welcomed them warmly.

"You know, young people always bring life to these parties," Richard commented. "It's refreshing."

Andre responded with a smirk, "I bet all you care about is the drama. We're the ones bringing the youth in, aren't we?"

Richard chuckled. "You can't say that. Youth is essential to the future of theater."

Eaton, ever the practical one, smiled politely and added, "So, it's not just Renly's talent that draws you in, then?"

Richard winked. "Renly's talent is key, but yes, youth plays its part."

As the conversation continued, Andre couldn't resist poking fun. "If you're expecting Renly, I think you may be disappointed. He doesn't care for events like this, and neither do the Halls. You've got George and Elizabeth here, though—is that your doing?"

Richard feigned innocence. "If I told you it was all an accident, would you believe me?"

Andre laughed, "Does it matter? What matters is whether Renly and George believe it. And, of course, do you care?"

Richard sighed. "I do care, you know. I really like Renly."

As the evening unfolded, the drama of the event continued to evolve.