An Earl Out of Time (Time Into Time)

Lucian smiled that slow smile that made me want to grab him and kiss him senseless. ‘How do you know about that?’

‘It is famous. People took French horns and trumpets underneath to play music, didn’t… I mean, don’t they?’

‘Not so much now the novelty has worn off,’ James said. ‘But I agree, it is magical by water provided it is not raining. We can get Garrick to pick us up at the gates in the carriage afterwards.’

‘What should I wear?’

‘The blue and ribbons in your hair and around your neck as a choker, perhaps. No need to wear jewels and risk robbery,’ Lucian suggested. ‘If we have dinner at seven we can have supper there.’

‘Shaved ham?’ I had no idea what shaved ham was, exactly, but I knew that was what Vauxhall suppers were famous for.

‘Of course.’ James was grinning now. ‘You realise it is nothing out of the ordinary, simply ham sliced so thinly that they can make a vast profit by

it?’

‘If Cassie wants to experience Vauxhall, then she shall,’ Lucian said. ‘Shaved ham, arrack punch, disgracefully dark walks through the shrubbery and all.’

Was it my imagination, or was there heat in his gaze as he looked at me? The walks at Vauxhall were a maze of paths and grottos and poorly-lit glades, I had read. Very romantic and perfect for scandalous behaviour. I was beginning to feel a very definite need for some scandalous behaviour.

We talked about Vauxhall until Garrick returned with yet more negative information.

‘You are quite correct, sir,’ he told James. ‘Lord de Forrest has a suite of five rooms on the first floor of a very respectable house on Dover Street. I got into conversation with the housemaid.’ From his very lack of expression I assumed this had involved a fair amount of flirtation. ‘She is into all the rooms every day, cleaning, bringing coals and hot water. There would be nowhere to hide a cat, let alone a lady, by the sound of it, and all the rooms in the house are taken.’

James and Sir Clement took themselves off after they had agreed a time for the carriage to pick them up to take them to the Whitehall Stairs. Lucian had decided to give me the experience of a long trip by boat, going under Westminster Bridge and all the way to the Vauxhall Stairs.

I recognised the statue of Charles I that still stands at the northern end of Whitehall when we drove past, but behind it, where Trafalgar Square now lies, was a mass of unfamiliar buildings. I did recognise the Admiralty building though and, opposite as we turned sharply left along the northern side of the Banqueting House, the entrance to Horse Guards.

But when Garrick stopped the carriage and we got out we were amongst a narrow press of old buildings and Lucian led the way, not to the wide, high Embankment I was familiar with but what looked more like a harbour-side with wet stone steps leading down to the river.

‘Do we have to shout Oars!’ I queried.

‘Not with half a dozen boats already here,’ Lucian said, disappointing my fantasies. Perhaps I was thinking more of Samuel Pepys. He gestured to one of the larger boats, with two hefty men at the oars, and we climbed down cautiously. Lucian put me next to him in the stern and Sir Clement and James went in the bows, wrapping their cloaks around themselves to keep off the splashes.

‘The tide is coming in, which helps,’ Lucian observed. Even so, I was surprised at how fast we moved – and how chilly it was out on the water. I had thought Garrick had been making a fuss about finding me a heavy cloak, now I could see why.

But despite the chill it was romantic to be muffled up, huddled against Lucian with his arm around me as we passed upstream, the banks studded with pinpricks of lights from all the candles in windows and flambeaux and lanterns on the streets. Soon gas lights would spread across the entire city and this view of London would never be seen again. Except perhaps in the event of a massive power cut.

Chapter Twenty One

‘Here is Westminster Bridge. Hold tight, Cassie.’

The boatmen got the vessel straight and rowed hard for one of the arches. As we went under James burst into song and the sound bounced back, his words lost in the noise of the water rushing through the arches.

We all laughed and clapped and I turned to look at the Houses of Parliament – and of course, there was no Big Ben. In fact nothing very impressive at all, certainly not at night, just a huddle of old buildings. Now we were past Lambeth Palace the intensity of lights was dying down on both banks and it was almost as though we were in some country town, not the largest city on earth.

The men began to pull for the southern bank and the other water traffic increased, all of it, seemingly, full of laughing, chattering people on their way to Vauxhall and intent on starting the party early. We passed some vast warehouse-like buildings, then I saw the Vauxhall Steps, well-lit with lanterns and with a mass of boats jostling for position to set down their passengers.

When we finally bumped against the landing stage Lucian helped me out last, steering me around a group of young men who were talking loudly and passing a bottle between them.

‘Do not, whatever you do, go off on your own,’ he cautioned. ‘The company is very mixed indeed, the grounds are easy to get lost in and the lighting is deliberately poor. Bucks like that are out to kick up their heels and have sport. Snatching kisses, or worse, is part of their game.’

But the company was not as mixed as the smells. I thought I had become used to the odour of London streets – sweat and sewers and horses and coal smoke, and that was still present, but here partly submerged by perfume and cooking food and the scent of the river and trees.

The noise was heady too – music coming from a distance away, laughter, loud conversation, the press of a large number of people all determined to have a good time.

I was getting my eye in for social difference now, and I could see that the people passing through the narrow gates ran the gamut from Society ladies and gentlemen to humble clerks and shopkeepers. I clung to Lucian’s arm while he paid three shillings and sixpence each for us and guessed that was enough to keep out anyone who was not receiving a steady, respectable, wage.

My escort moved through the crowd with the air of men who were on familiar ground and we were soon past the worst of the crowd and into a more open space. Lucian showed a ticket to an attendant and we were ushered into a box, a wooden structure raised just above ground level and lit by lanterns. There was a table and chairs inside and, although it would probably look tawdry in daylight, at night it had all the glamour of a box at the theatre.