Lizzy arrived at the Opera by herself and in good time. She wore something more conservative this time, a respectable floor-length dress that was not as clingy.

More noticeably than last time, people were discreetly checking her out and whispering. She had the ability to disregard white noise from people who didn't matter so she did not pay attention to them.

She went to the stairs where the boxes where and recalled the last time she was walking up these same set of stairs. Her arm was interlinked through Darcy's and she remembered her feelings of excitement.

She went to the box and there was already a table for one set for her. And a glass of champagne.

She smiled. Darcy is so thoughtful.

She lifted the single cloche on the table and it was a meal, or close to the meal they had from one of their fencing nights.

She'd read about the ridiculously rich flying their favourite meals across the Atlantic. It was so extravagant and wasteful. She'll have to ask him about this meal afterwards.

She crossed her fingers that he had ordered her meal from some south London restaurant, and had not flown it in.

XXX

During intermission, she left the safety of the box to go down to the bar. Some people were looking at her oddly.

She went to the ladies. She heard a couple of women enter while she was still in the stall.

"Who is that woman in the Darcy box?", asked one.

The second woman started giggling.

After a pause, she said slowly and conspiratorially, "According to Hamish, she is Darcy's latest whore. The twins tried to get him to do a threesome with them at Hamish's party, but he refused."

"No! For shame!" said the first one, "surely he can do so much better. The slut looks absolutely uncouth compared to the twins. She must give him blow jobs on call. What ever is she wearing to the opera? Some Marks and Spencer cast-off?"

The second woman giggled at this and added laughingly, "Apparently, he's been whoring with her in Scotland - up and down the east coast, west coast and the islands. They've been everywhere! Hamish even lent his plane to them. What an awful downgrade for Darcy. She must be charging him a lot! Or he's awfully desperate!"

At this, the first nodded.

After a silence, the first spoke again, "I've never seen her before. Must ask the Scotch relatives."

"No, no," the second corrected, "Percy's sister says she's from the antipodes. You don't want to listen to her when she opens her mouth - she is Ors-trel-yan, or from Nyoo Zee-land."

The second added this sniffly, enunciating and mocking each syllable with a false accent from each country, then said "Gidday mate - want a root?"

The other joined in.

"Well, well, well...if she's from New Zealand, she must want six with her jangles on!" the first trilled.

The second laughed uproariously. Then said, "Poor Darcy, he's being led by his balls. Mark my words, this will all end in tears."

While the first concluded "With his fortune halved!"

The two women laughed at poor Darcy's fate and left.

Lizzy stopped breathing and angry tears threatened.

She hated the British class system with a passion.

XXX

Darcy sent her a text the following morning: "Did you enjoy the Don? How was the Commendatore scene?"

He noted the texts from her stopped after the intermission.

She stared at his text. A bit reluctant on what to write.

She had always been brutally honest with her views to him. This time she felt like a fish out of water. She was like Dorothy, ex-Kansas, in the mean, exclusive rarefied world of Darcy and his circle.

"Cocktail from the bar didn't agree with me. Recuperating in bed. With throw bucket." And added a vomit emoji.

Immediately he responded with a sad emoji and added "We'll go see it another time."

She never replied. Hoping that her excuse was sufficient for her silence.