Chapter Eighteen #3
What had that look meant? Or had he just been annoyed she’d tripped? She hurried to keep up with him, still a little afraid she’d get separated in the crowd, for Oxford Street, although nothing like the Rookery of St Giles, was a busy thoroughfare.
She’d accompanied Aunt Fanny and Mattie here many times and the cheerful shop fronts proclaiming the wares on sale and the names of the proprietors made her feel a little bit at home.
Not that if she’d gone inside any of the shops the proprietors would have been happy.
They’d probably have shouted for the constable to come and remove her.
The thought made her want to laugh. And dare to try it.
Although being arrested by an officious constable might delay her return to Grosvenor Square and Cecilia somewhat.
Another time, perhaps, if she were lucky and Gabriel forgave her forward outburst.
They turned off Oxford Street and into New Bond Street where Aunt Fanny frequented the shop of Mesdames Powley and Harmsworth for her gowns.
Fresh laughter had to be controlled as her imagination ran riot at what these two arbiters of fashion would think if they could see her now, in holey boots and a dirty coat and trousers.
What any of the fine ladies they were passing on the street would think if they knew she was a young lady who’d been to the same ball as they had.
Who would most likely have to attend further balls and soirees in their company.
And who at present looked very much like a scruffy, dirty-faced urchin.
What fun it would be to see Aunt Fanny and Mattie and have them unable to recognize her. A little risky, perhaps, but fun, nevertheless.
The enjoyment of her own appearance was somewhat helped by the cleanliness of the shop windows in which she was afforded numerous distorted reflections of herself as she hurried behind Gabriel.
She had to admit that she made a good boy, and now she wasn’t so scared, and had got used to the smell, she was finding the freedom of trousers, despite their itchiness, invigorating.
How unfair was it that she couldn’t wear them more often. Although…what was to stop her?
Only the fact that she’d dreadfully embarrassed herself with Gabriel.
With her frightening adventure safely behind her, it was now taking on the proportions of something to be proud of.
So the longing to repeat the experience was not unexpected.
Might Gabriel be persuaded to take her there again?
Could she overcome her embarrassment? Might he allow her the freedom of London in boyish disguise?
She would just have to conquer her embarrassment and ask him.
But no, he seemed most preoccupied at the moment and still disinclined to conversation.
Not that she was certain she could look him in the eye, with that ham-fisted proposal looming between them like a solid brick wall.
A proposal made so unconventionally by a lady to a gentleman.
Aunt Fanny would die of shock if she found out.
This also made her want to laugh. Shocking Aunt Fanny was more desirable than she’d expected.
From New Bond Street, Gabriel turned into Brook Street and within minutes, they were back in the hurly burly of Three Kings Yard.
He pushed open the door to his rented room and mounted the stairs two at a time, as though he’d forgotten she was trying to keep up with him.
Phoebe ran up them behind him, her face now pink with exertion rather than embarrassment.
Cecilia must have heard their footsteps on the stairs, for her book lay closed on the table, a blue velvet ribbon marking where she’d reached in her reading.
“I thought you were never coming back,” was the first thing she said, a little accusingly, as Phoebe closed the door behind them.
“Or that something dreadful had happened to you. Having seen the inside of St Giles I feared that was a distinct possibility. I was trying to decide what I should say to Mama about where you’d got to, and how I was going to explain to your aunt, Phoebe, that I’d allowed my brother to lose you.
I’m more than glad to see you both back in one piece. ”
She could have been a little more forthcoming about what St Giles was like before they left, as a warning. Phoebe shot her a frown and pulled off the woolen cap which had been making her head both hot and itchy. Her hair tumbled down her back again in something of a tangle.
Gabriel was already turning back to the door. “Take care of her, Cissy. I’m away now on other business.”
And he was gone, and hadn’t even wished her goodbye, or thanked her for coming with him. Was he as embarrassed as she was? Might he be so shocked he didn’t want to see her again?
Phoebe stood in the center of the room, one hand on the table, bereft.
“Well,” Cecilia said, standing up. “I suppose we’d better get you back into your gown and sort out your hair.
If you go in looking like that even my mother might notice.
” She picked up Phoebe’s gown from where she’d left it lying on the wooden chest. “Come on, then. And we’ll have to wash your face. ”