Chapter Fourteen
In a rare occurrence, Bridget’s mother, the Baroness Greenridge, invited the three cousins to join her in attending a gala at Vauxhall Gardens four nights later.
Apparently, the Regent was expected to be in attendance.
Though Ralston argued against the impropriety of taking young ladies to such a potentially scandalous venue, Lady Greenridge laughed off the concern, stating that most of the gardens were perfectly proper.
As long as the girls stayed near the main stage and didn’t wander down any of the dark walks or slip into any of the other little wildernesses unaccompanied, there was nothing to worry about.
Ralston clearly didn’t like it, but their aunt—ever the rebellious hoyden—heard nothing against the idea and swept the young women up in her carriage for a night of questionable revelry.
Vauxhall Gardens was one of the few entertainments in town that allowed and promoted the mingling of folks from all classes and means.
An affordable entrance fee made it easy for anyone to enjoy the many attractions found within.
Though the elaborate suppers were an extra fee and could be quite costly, the art, fascinating architecture, music, and other performances were available to all who entered the gates to stroll along the many lanes.
Bridget was nearly bouncing in her seat at the prospect of such a thrilling evening. Even Lydia, who didn’t typically enjoy large social gatherings, confessed that she was looking forward to seeing the notorious gardens in person.
Eleanor had a very different reason for the trembling in her belly and the flush to her skin.
Earlier that day, she’d secreted a note to the Viscount Waring advising him to meet her near a particular feature in the park just after the sun set.
When she sent the message, she’d felt confident and assured of her purpose. His words from the garden had stayed with her, folding and twisting through her mind until she couldn’t quite rationalize not helping him. It was a simple request, after all.
If he’d been telling the truth—and she was inclined to believe he was—about his friend being in danger, it felt terribly selfish to withhold whatever information she might have that could help him.
It was just a story; a family legend. She struggled to justify a significant reason not to share it.
In truth, she doubted it would help much, but after considering it from all angles, she decided to send Waring the note.
And though she hadn’t received a reply, she was fairly certain he would be there.
And so it was that the three cousins entered Vauxhall Gardens a few steps behind Bridget’s mother, each of them full of anticipation for very different reasons.
They barely made it through the main gate before Lady Greenridge glanced back at them to say, “I must pay my respects to Prinny. Go on and enjoy your evening, girls. Don’t get into too much trouble,” she added with a wiggle of her fingers. And then she disappeared.
“And that’s the last we shall see of her until it is time to leave,” Bridget muttered wryly.
The baroness was somewhat notorious for being significantly lacking in propriety and good sense.
She and Bridget’s father both preferred to socialize in fast sets of the demimonde.
That Lady Greenridge was one of the illustrious Fairchilds was likely the only reason the couple hadn’t been ostracized from polite society.
Not many would dare to completely shun them, though rampant gossip was fair game.
For these reasons, Bridget’s parents were not often seen accompanying the younger generation of Fairchilds to social events.
Their reputation could easily be an obstacle to Bridget’s own success.
Though Ralston was an utter stick-in-the-mud, his superior nobility and unquestionable propriety made him the best choice as escort by far.
Tonight, however, was a different sort of entertainment. The freedom Vauxhall allowed was not be underestimated.
Eleanor, Lydia, and Bridget were quite accustomed to the baroness’s reckless behavior and had learned long ago to handle themselves without chaperonage when necessary.
Linking arms, they continued through the mass of people, their expressions displaying a mix of emotions ranging from awe, delight, curiosity, and subtle wariness.
Bridget bounced on her toes as her sparkling gaze darted about them. “There’s so much to explore. I want to see everything.”
“Did you know that when night falls, the park becomes illuminated with approximately fifteen thousand lamps?” Lydia asked as they merged with the rest of a growing crowd flowing along the grand walk and could already hear soft strains of music from the orchestra not far away.
“How interesting,” Eleanor replied, accustomed to Lydia’s love for random facts.
“Shall we start with the rotunda?” Lydia asked. “Or perhaps we could try to view the many paintings in the supper boxes before they fill up. I’d love to see the works by Hayman. I understand they’re quite dramatic.”
“We could take a stroll along the Dark Walk,” Bridget suggested in a dramatic whisper.
Lydia gave a snorting laugh, clearly not taking the suggestion seriously. “Right. And put ourselves at risk of encountering any manner of cads and scoundrels.”
“Cads and scoundrels don’t scare me,” Bridget retorted with a shrug. “I’ve encountered far too many in my life to view them with too great of concern.”
Lord and Lady Greenridge frequently hosted parties for their wild set and Bridget’s home was often occupied by one or more of her parents’ lovers.
They tended to forget that their only child was still a young, unmarried girl.
The many times she’d had to double the locks on her door to protect against the drunken wanderings of her parents’ guests was not amusing.
Lydia rolled her eyes. “I’ve no interest in the licentious behaviors that take place along the Dark Walk.”
“Yes,” Bridget drawled in amusement. “We know. Only lofty, intellectual pursuits for our Lydia.” She leaned forward to speak around Eleanor who strolled between them. “Someday, cuz, I’m going to laugh when you find yourself yearning for darkness like the rest of us.”
While Lydia snorted in disbelief. Eleanor frowned. “I don’t yearn for darkness.”
“Really?” Bridget teased.
“Of course you don’t,” Lydia noted with a firm nod and a sly glance. “That’s exactly why you arranged to meet with the viscount after the sun goes down.”
“Perhaps you’ve decided he’s worth coveting, after all?” Bridget queried with a sly grin.
Eleanor blushed. She’d decided to tell her cousins about the assignation she planned.
Mainly because she knew she’d never manage to meet with the viscount alone without their assistance.
And she certainly couldn’t meet with him out in the open where people would notice.
There had already been gossip about them being seen talking in Hyde Park and then there was that scene yesterday at her home.
The more rumor and speculation that became attached to them, the worse it would be for her when he got what he wanted and turned his attention elsewhere.
“I told you why I’m meeting with the man. And we’ll be nowhere near the Dark Walk.”
“I imagine there are darkened corners to be found all over the park,” Bridget noted. “And I suspect Waring knows exactly how to find them.”
Though something deep inside her tingled at the thought, Eleanor quickly shook her head. “Don’t create any fantasies about the man. I told you what he wants from me.”
“And I told you that I saw something in his eyes, dear cousin,” Bridget insisted. “The viscount desires you.”
With her stomach clenching, Eleanor retorted, “If he does, he’ll get over it soon enough, I’m sure.”
“But will you?” the other woman whispered.
Choosing to ignore the ridiculous comment, Eleanor suggested brightly, “Why don’t we stroll toward the Hermitage? We shall pass by the Chinese temples and the supper boxes along the way.”
Lydia agreed with a nod. “Perfect. As long as we stay together—”
Eleanor gave a gentle scoff. “When have we ever managed to stay together through an entire evening?”
Despite their absolute loyalty to each other and the depth of their companionship, the three women were decidedly different in manner and interest. Bridget enjoyed socializing and approached flirtation as if it were an art to be cultivated.
Lydia preferred scholarly pursuits. And Eleanor simply preferred to be left alone.
As committed as they were to their friendship, they respected each other’s differences. And that often led to them parting ways on many occasions.
“Well, don’t worry, we shan’t leave you alone with the viscount,” Lydia replied.
Bridget immediately interjected. “Of course we will. But we won’t be very far,” she added when Lydia would’ve countered her.
Eleanor laughed. The frequent arguments between her cousins were mostly in fun. They enjoyed needling each other, but when it came down to it, they were the staunchest of allies.
Though Eleanor enjoyed exploring the Gardens with her cousins and remained constantly entertained by Lydia’s very informative comments and Bridget’s utterly irreverent ones, she was intently aware of the passing of time.
And as the late-night sun lowered toward the horizon and the sky shifted into shades of mauve and lavender, her tension and expectation darkened along with it.
Without any words needing to be spoken, the three silently agreed to start walking toward the Cascade where a grand display occurred once darkness fell each night. The easy conversation that had flowed between the women faded into thoughtful silence.
Eleanor tried to convince herself there was no reason to feel so twisted and tied up inside.
She’d spoken to Waring a few times now so he wasn’t a complete stranger.
They were just meeting so she could tell him the little she knew of the necklace.
The topic certainly wasn’t personal or intimate in nature and their interest in each other was purely incidental.
Yet, she couldn’t quite shake Bridget’s earlier words. Was it yearning that created this feeling that coursed through her at the thought of standing face to face with the viscount again?
Was it yearning that tightened her belly and sent her heart racing whenever she met the sparkle of his blue-green eyes? Was it yearning that made her feel more alive in his presence as much as it caused her to dread the day his interest would inevitably wane?
Perhaps she did covet the man.
The ringing peel of a bell pulled her abruptly from her thoughts.
With a blink, Eleanor glanced around to see that night had fully fallen while she’d been lost in her mind.
They’d nearly reached the Cascade and were part of a larger flow of people heading in the same direction.
As the bell finished, even more people joined the pilgrimage, some of them running in their haste to ensure they didn’t miss the display.
She’d heard that the mechanical creation that imitated the sights and sounds of a waterfall and storm was a popular attraction. She hadn’t realized it was this popular.
They reached the edge of a growing crowd which waited in front of a tall structure set along the path with the forest spreading out behind it.
Though the display had been covered by a curtain earlier in the evening, it now revealed an illuminated pastoral landscape with a little house and watermill.
Built in multiple layers to create depth with moving mechanical parts, the illusion of water appeared to be flowing down a hill, through the wheel of the mill to foam at the bottom.
The whole thing was accompanied by the sounds of a proper waterfall.
As everyone, including her cousins gasped at the lovely and wonderous sight, Eleanor sent her gaze out over the crowd, seeking a glimpse of the viscount. She hadn’t expected there to be such a crush and her nerves drew taut with each passing second.
Perhaps he hadn’t come.
The possibility offered both relief and disappointment as she struggled to acknowledge what the man made her feel.
Then, just when she might’ve convinced herself he wasn’t there, she spotted him.
He stood, not in the crowd, but near the edge of the attraction itself where the concealing curtain was tied back with heavy ropes.
At first glance, he appeared utterly unconcerned as he leaned a shoulder against the trunk of a tree.
But it took only a moment for Eleanor to realize that despite the density of the crowd, he’d somehow spotted her and was staring directly at her.
An intense thrill of awareness raced through her bloodstream, creating an effect that was both hot and chilled at the same time, as if her nerves couldn’t quite decide what to feel.
Her skin flushed warm while her breath seemed to freeze in her lungs.
Her belly swirled with heat but her fingers and toes went instantly numb and tingly.
As she stared back at him, seared to the bone and frozen in place, his mouth curved in an easy smile and he gave a short nod. Then he stepped back into the darkness around him and disappeared behind the Cascade.
The subtle nudge of Bridget’s elbow drew Eleanor’s attention. Her cousin lifted her brows and tipped her head in the direction where Lord Waring had been standing.
“Now or never,” she murmured.
“We’ll be right here,” Lydia assured. “But you don’t have to do this. You can always meet somewhere less…”
“Exciting?” Bridget interjected. “Not a chance. If you don’t go, I will,” she urged.
Even though Eleanor knew her cousin would do no such thing, the words managed to propel her into motion.
A few steps took her away from the comfort of her cousins.
Several more brought her to the edge of the crowd still staring at the wonderous display in rapt attention.
No one even noticed her passing. For the first time ever since entering society, she felt invisible amongst them.
The thought brought an odd smile to her lips as she slipped quickly past the Cascade and into the shadowed wood behind it.