EXTENDED EPILOGUE

Five years later.

It was chaos in the general dressing room backstage. Players were a superstitious bunch, and all manner of ritual and routine were taking place to calm nerves and provoke good omens. Every possible item of clothing or prop was skewered about the floor. The boisterous noise of players arguing and directors giving hurried instructions mingled with the ebullient sound of nervous players rehearsing their lines for one last time ahead of the night’s performance.

It was a familiar sight to Diana. The first performance was always a thing of heady madness. This was an especially mad evening because it was the first of a new theatre. They had decided to call it the “Blue Moonflower Theatre.” Blue moonflowers were the centrepiece of the first bouquet that Levi had sent to her after her first performance and had a special meaning to them both. For an opening night, they had done excellently well at the gate. It was packed to the rafters. A line around the street meant they had to turn away half as many punters as they accepted. If all went well tonight, the show would be sold out for the rest of the month. Such was the appetite for this performance.

Levi and Diana had made a point of treating the Moonflower as a theatre to cater to all, whether princely or penniless. If you could cover the fare for at least the standing section, you would not be turned away from the Blue Moonflower. The Ton had taken an interest in the show particularly on account of the story and scandal that had followed their marriage. Some saw it as a storybook romance of love conquering all. Others saw it as an act of Machiavellian wonder on Diana’s part to ensnare the poor Lord Gatton. There were many other renditions being told of their romance, but all it had done was drum the interest in the show to a manic high.

Diana, for her part, was scarily calm. She had been a performer since she was a little girl, and never before had she let herself be overwhelmed by a performance. What gave her a deeper, abiding confidence was the love she had for her husband. She knew without any lingering doubt that even if the show failed completely, he would be at her side, surrounding her with his steadfast love. In him was her confidence, for there could be no applause or acclaim as exciting as his smile.

“I am very nervous over here, Diana,” said Lydia, appearing at her shoulder.

Lydia had been the first person Diana hired for the theatre when they began to find talents. She was the best and most experienced singer she knew and, not to mention, a peerless friend.

She glanced back at her. “Just breathe with me, Lydia. You’ve done this a hundred times before.”

“Not like this. Did you see how many people are out there? I have never seen so many people in one place.”

“If you can perform for ten people, then you can perform for ten thousand. Just don’t look beyond the first row, and you will be fine, same as always.”

Lydia blew out an exasperated breath. “Are you sure, Diana?”

“Absolutely. Now, drink some water and get a touch of powder on your cheeks. You are a special talent.”

Mr. Maxwell, who had once been the Earl of Exeter’s steward, made his way about the dressing room, checking that everything was almost in place. Levi’s idea to make him the director of the production was a stroke of genius. The man was a perfectionist in every sense of the word and had turned their motley troupe into acting, singing machine of the most professional order. At the sight of him, players picked their costumes and props from the floor and began to look alive with purpose. He had that rare capacity to inspire excellence simply through his bearing.

“How are we looking, Mr. Maxwell?” she asked as he approached her.

He clasped his hands at the navel and nodded, satisfied. “The audience is seated and ready. The lighting is also ready, and the acoustics at sound check were marvellous. We are, if I say so carefully, ready for a rollicking good concert.”

Diana nodded and added a final flourish to her arched brow. She glanced about the room at her fellow players and called them to order.

“Everyone,” she announced.

The noise dimmed to a faint murmur.

“Thank you all for working so hard to get us this far in such a short space of time. This is opening night. There will be mistakes. There will be inefficiencies. But if I have learned one thing about you all these last nine months, it is that you are smart, you are resilient, and above all, you are talented. There is nothing you will see, say, or do on that stage that you haven’t seen, said, or done before. I want you all to express yourself with all the freedom that you carry within. Try not to worry about how many people there are in the audience. If they don’t like this show, they will like another of ours. But this, the Blue Moonflower Theatre, will be a place for joy. I want you to enjoy yourselves on that stage every bit as much as the audience. That is why we do what we do, to find freedom on that stage. Not fear.”

“That’s right,” called a voice from the back of the dressing room.

There were other murmurs of agreement and encouragement, and Lydia seized the moment to launch a full-scale cheer.

“Long live the Blue Moonflower!”

The dozens of players answered as one. “Long live the Blue Moonflower!”

Eliza stepped into the dressing room, and the applause rang out in another wave.

“Cheers to our wonderful playwright!” Lydia said, and the crew cheered Eliza on with full gusto.

All the nervousness had dissipated, and now there was only excitement.

Eliza looked particularly radiant as she waved away their applause. Diana knew this was on account of her own budding love story which was every bit as fascinating as her and Levi’s.

The play ‘Love at the Opera’ was written by Eliza under the pen name E.B. Brook and was loosely inspired by Levi and Diana’s story. The titular character Maria was an opera singer who is rescued from her evil stage manager by a young gentleman with whom she falls in love. As the lead, the success of the show would largely rest on Diana’s shoulders, but she felt no tension.

There was an urgent buzz of electricity in the room, and Diana knew with no doubt in her mind that it would be a good performance. A heartfelt one.

She retreated to her private dressing and sat alone for a few moments, taking in deep breaths. She remembered her mother’s words: “You are the very best of me, Diana. I know you can be great. You have everything you need to succeed, and with time, you will be an even better singer than I could ever have been. That is my great commission: to make your life better than mine ever was.”

Her mother was making good on her great commission, and her life was falling into place. Today the world would see just how much.

The last bell rang, and they could hear the audience quieten outside.

“Places, everyone,” called Mr. Maxwell. “We go live in two minutes.”

“Places,” the players echoed as everyone took up their positions.

Diana mounted the stage and struck her opening pose behind the curtain. She drew in a deep breath and as the curtains rose, she began to sing.

She sang slowly at first, gently, but soon she was at work, feeling something she had almost forgotten. She felt the knot in her stomach loosen as she sang with mourn-broken, elegiac energy. Channelling every pain, every lamentation, every act of scorn that had been levelled against her into an explosion of the emotive song. In her head, Diana saw her mother nodding, enchanted and impressed as she sang with scattered intricacy, throwing cascades of blessed sound at the audience. She managed to steal a look at the first row. They were all spellbound, every one a prisoner to her moment on stage. She could feel Lydia alongside her on stage, staring at her with wondrous awe as she sang. She left nothing in reserve and gave her all to the song so all of London, the Ton, and the tawdry alike could see who she was and what she was all about.

Her verse came to an end, and she felt liberated. Her voice had danced in power, and from the suspended moment of awed silence, she heard Lydia’s voice erupt for the second verse. Clean and clear as she took over the song. It was beautiful, pained, and powerful. Diana was so delighted she almost forgot to join her at the crescendo of his note, but she caught herself in time, and they sang with no restraint.

There is a kind of understanding that can be found in music, and at that moment, Diana felt like she could look beyond the mask of adolescent display that Lydia often wore to the truth in her heart. The things that were eternal in her. When they stopped playing, the theatre was still. Then, there was an explosion of applause, and Diana knew that, without a doubt, it was going to be a performance to remember.

The show followed in that vein and came to an ending, greeted with rapturous applause. Every patron was on their feet, and together, the troupe bowed, basking in the celebration of their audience.

The curtain fell, and there were shouts of excitement and congratulations all around.

Diana turned to Lydia. “That was the best I have ever heard you sing. You were brilliant.”

Lydia pointed a finger at her, shaking her head. “Don’t you dare make this about me. You were simply magnificent. That is the best performance I have ever seen anywhere. Word of this will spread, and this concert will go to the very top!”

“I do hope so,” Diana said shyly.

“Believe it, Diana. That was incredible.”

She retreated to her private dressing room and unlocked the door. At her dressing table was a beautiful bouquet formed entirely of blue moonflowers. She beamed as she plucked the note from the centre of the flowers.

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, the world would be my garden, and we would roam it endlessly. Congratulations on your first night. – Cee.

She felt the soft brush of wind from the door opening and glanced over her shoulder.

Levi stood in the doorframe with their four-year-old son Harry in his arms. Their smiles were almost identical, and they both looked at her with all the pride and affection in the world.

She ran to them, and they came together in an embrace. This was it. Everything she had ever dreamed of, living happily ever after.

The flowers made her think of the first time she had seen him in the royal box all those years ago. Watching her as though she was the only one on stage. Her heart felt so full, it might burst.

Jasper, Levi’s footman, appeared at the door, and their son Harry ran into his arms. Jasper lifted him off his feet and spun him around with Harry laughing all the while. Jasper and Henry stood just outside the door, giving Levi and Diana the chance to talk without being heard.

Levi leaned in close to her. “Is this the same dressing gown you wore the first day we met?”

She grinned. “Perhaps it is.”

He pinched her bottom softly. “You naughty lady. Teasing your husband in such a way.”

“I wondered if you would notice,” she remarked, pulling the dressing gown tightly about her shoulders.

“How could I forget? I watched you like the hawk watches the sparrow. The image of you in that gown is still etched in my mind.”

She laughed. “A keen memory you have, Lord Gatton.”

“Do you know what else I remember?”

Diana leaned in intently and spoke at a whisper. “What else?”

“The first time we kissed, in the garden.”

Diana’s breath caught in her throat, and she glanced over her shoulder at Jasper and Harry.

Levi took her cue as though reading her mind. “Jasper, please take Harry up to the carriage. We’ll be up with you shortly.”

Jasper bowed and gave a proud smile. “Of course, my Lord.”

“Good man,” Levi said, “And Jasper?”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Shut the door behind you, please.”

He bowed again. “Of course, my Lord.”

Levi wrapped his arms around her neck and kissed her. Five years of marriage had done nothing to diminish her craving for his touch. When it was just the two of them alone like this, nothing could ever feel wrong. They were free birds in the sky.

“You’re stuck with me forever, you know,” she said, smiling up at him.

He grinned. “Never has there been a happier prisoner.”

Diana’s mouth quirked, and she stroked her fingertips over his chest. “This theatre. We are going to make a great success of it. I can feel it.”

“I was in the audience. I heard the applause. I saw the looks on their faces.”

She leaned forward. “Thank you, Levi. This wouldn’t have been possible without you.”

Levi pulled her forward with a strong hand. “And it most certainly would not have been possible without you.”

Their noses touched, and she took in a deep breath. “I love you, Levi.”

“I love you more, Diana,” he said and pressed his lips to hers.

And they both knew that everything in their world would turn out all right.

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