They had rented a smart little flat in a house in Margaret Street close to Oxford Circus where the flower-sellers sold their blooms beneath their red umbrellas. Toby had wanted them to live in the West End and although Sophy had felt a huge wrench at leaving her little attic room up among the rooftops she’d known the two of them couldn’t live there. And the West End was a fascinating place, from the massive shops in Oxford Street, such as Marshall & Snelgrove and Swears & Wells, to the colourful and slightly disreputable area of Soho, which drew artisans and artistes of all kinds, unlike the seedy Seven Dials rookery across the Charing Cross Road.
It was the area around Leicester Square which most bustled with life, however, especially since the building of Shaftesbury Avenue in the 1880s had removed some of the more dire slums. New theatres were being erected, small five-or six-hundred seaters which were already gaining a reputation as places where ‘the play was the thing’, rather than the conceit of being seen in one of the more splendid venues. Not that the new theatres could match ones like the Alhambra and Empire in most people’s eyes – two great variety theatres which were essentially male resorts. Here young bloods descended in droves from the universities, Boat Race nights being legendary, and many was the ruse employed to regain admittance after being expelled for being too rowdy or offensive. As many of the young men were more than a little intoxicated, they weren’t aware of the top-hatted bouncers who politely but firmly escorted them from the premises, patting them in a fatherly manner on the back, leaving a white chalk-mark as a signal that they weren’t to be readmitted that evening.
But it was after the shows that the West End really came into its own. The supper clubs stayed open until well past midnight, but it was the less sophisticated cock-and-hen clubs such as the Red Beer Club, whose weekly dances frequently ended in high jinks in Soho Square as dawn broke, which catered for the university crowd. Some of these Hooray Henrys, used to a bevy of servants from babyhood and with more money than sense, could be dangerous to a young girl on her own, especially when showing off to their peers. Toby had already warned Sophy never to venture out alone but she wouldn’t have done so anyway. She knew full well by this time that, due to the career she had chosen, many of these young men considered all actresses unconventional at best, and little more than high-class whores at worst. Cat had already been the victim of a series of obscene postcards from an ‘admirer’, and an actress they knew had been accosted by a man who had followed her home from the theatre. When she had refused to kiss him, he had accused her of being ‘a female cad’ who needed to be taught a lesson. It was only the girl’s landlady, on hearing her screams, who had prevented the man from forcing himself upon her. And Sophy knew from Augustus, who still inspected any letters care of the theatre which the actresses received, that some of her mail was too ‘passionate’ to be considered suitable for her to read.
She did find this alarming when she thought about it, but had always felt safe both at the Lincoln and when on tour with Mr Gregory’s touring company, due to the safeguards he had put in place for his female employees. But now she would have Toby to protect her. She was a respectable married woman.
He had left Rosalind and was making his way towards her, smiling the smile that turned the blue-grey eyes liquid. ‘Happy?’ he murmured.
She nodded. In this moment, when he looked at her like that, she was the happiest woman alive, she told herself, sending up a swift prayer of thankfulness for all that was hers. ‘Are you?’
‘Of course.’ He gathered her into his arms, careless of onlookers, whispering in her ear, ‘And I’ll be happier still when it’s just the two of us tonight.’
She blushed, and he laughed, hugging her again. ‘My beautiful, innocent, radiant wife. I adore you, do you know that? From the top of your head to the soles of your dainty feet, I adore you. We’re going to take the theatre world by storm, you and I. Mr Toby Shawe and the beautiful Mrs Shawe. We can’t fail.’ Glancing at his watch, he added, ‘But for now it’s work for both of us, my sweet. I’ll come and pick you up from the Lincoln tonight, so wait for me. It’s a pity you’re not closer to home but it won’t be long.’