Chapter 13
The inky curls of the water slipped around the boat as Thea stood at the bow, watching the pier approach.
Ranelagh gardens stretched up from the river, formal walks and hedges leading the way to the rotunda at its heart.
In the same way that George had insisted that Thea attend tonight’s masquerade, he had also insisted that they arrive by boat. More impressive, he thought.
For George, tonight was about networks, impressing the King and maintaining the fragile relationship with Knatchbull. It seemed to have become an obsession for him, and tonight was the perfect place to play politics.
For Thea, tonight was about getting home as soon as was politely possible.
As social events went, Thea didn’t mind a masquerade.
She enjoyed the anonymity of the mask and the costume.
Unlike others who liked everyone to know who was behind their outrageous outfit, Thea enjoyed the opportunity to blend in and be someone else.
It gave her confidence, just like the lectures.
She would be seen with George for the look of the thing and then would lose herself in the crowd in her costume.
No doubt she would watch George cavorting with any number of ladies in the room.
This was now the only event which stood between her and travel back to Hawkdean, and she itched to get out of the city. Frankie was already there and according to Annie was settling in well. She had already caused a ruckus in the gardening team by the sound of it – and Thea was delighted.
George stepped off the boat first, spreading his arms to show those waiting on the pier the grandeur of his craft.
Thea recognised a group of his fellow MPs.
When George noticed them, he stopped and theatrically offered Thea a hand down, gesturing at his wife’s outfit almost lecherously.
Thea was dressed as Diana, the goddess of hunting.
She had hoped it would mean she could bring Musket for sensible company but then she had considered the havoc he might wreak in a room full of people he did not yet like.
Her dress was an anthracite grey. It was slimmer than any that would be usually acceptable in today’s fashions – she maintained a hoop petticoat but had foregone the large bustle at the back.
She wore a wool cloak as it was cold, and over it a satin scarf of rich, emerald green, stars and moons in her hair, a thick leather belt and a quiver of arrows, and a bow slung diagonally over her back.
Her mask was simple but full, covering her whole face with a jewelled and structured velvet.
The whole ensemble made her feel unusually confident.
It meant she could smile and pose a little for George’s benefit.
Once down he dropped her hand and made for the party of gentlemen.
She supposed that was her duty complete.
Looking around, she noticed a fawn with furry legs, a bright pink shirt and a patterned waistcoat hanging back a little from the crowd.
‘Dr Speckle?’
He trotted over and bowed. ‘Your Grace. I do wish you would call me Kit. It seems more appropriate when you have seen my furry legs.’ He held one out towards her, making her chuckle.
‘A fair request, Kit,’ she said. ‘Are you pleased to be here?’
‘Tolerably,’ he said. ‘I am pleased to see you and others. Herbert is still not greatly in the way of speaking to me, but I am sure he will come around. It is nice, however, to see all classes welcome at an event of the King – it is quite the novelty.’
‘Goodness, look at everyone,’ said a loud and whiny female voice from their left. An overly large nymph and an Egyptian queen strode from the pier and past them on the way to the rotunda.
‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ said the queen, clearly in awe.
‘It is not,’ said the nymph, arms pumping as she walked. ‘Anyone could be here. I shan’t know if I am talking to a lord or a lady or one of the… others. Even as lowly as a physician or a lawyer. It is quite disconcerting. One never has any idea what they might do.’
‘I think you may have to get used to it,’ said the queen. ‘It is quite the fashion now to have everybody in one place.’
Thea looked at Speckle kindly. ‘Quite the novelty for everyone,’ she said, but he didn’t look concerned.
‘Shall we make our way up?’
They followed the nymph, the queen, and George and his party up the slight incline to the reveries happening by the rotunda.
The ovoid building glowed like a lantern, light from thousands of candles flickering in its hundreds of arched windows.
The sound of the orchestra emanated from the open windows and was distorted by the gentle breeze, flowing over the well-kept trees, hedges and dining booths of the garden.
Thea and Speckle took a glass of punch each and surveyed the crowds by the Chinese pavilion.
There were warriors and jesters, nuns and wenches, dominoes and mythical creatures galore.
The intricacy of the costumes was staggering.
Some preferred full-face anonymity, some preferred to be known and revered.
‘Well, aren’t you a vision,’ said a breathy voice into Thea’s ear. ‘If you’d been dressed like that at your party I might have reconsidered my opinion on that kiss.’
Thea whirled around and gave Harriet a stern look, which she then realised was lost in the mask. ‘What are you?’ she asked.
Harriet twirled around, arms out, a light-yellow dress with hearts and flowers trying its best to encapsulate her voluptuous figure. There was a large scallop shell stuck to her side. And a little cupid on her head. ‘Guess,’ she said.
‘Venus, goddess of love,’ said Speckle, smiling.
‘Exactly!’ said Harriet. She nudged Thea in the ribs. ‘Thought I’d bring a little irony to the party, don’t you know. Thought about coming naked on the top half like the paintings but January’s a bit chilly for that.’
‘Quite,’ said Thea, ‘and there’s enough lewd activity goes on at masquerades without you being half dressed.’
‘Some are calling for them to be banned,’ said Speckle. ‘One can’t tell who is a man and who is a woman, so I believe it has led to a few,’ he paused, considering his words. ‘Misunderstandings, in the past.’
Thea and Harriet both stared at him.
‘Jolly good,’ said Harriet, grabbing both their elbows. ‘In we go!’
The high, arched doorway loomed above them as they entered the cavernous space.
Despite the fact that she experienced a good few spectacular buildings, the rotunda always made Thea catch her breath.
She knew it was one hundred and fifty feet wide; the fact stuck in her head from the time she had spent listening to the architect at one of her last visits, but objectively the room was huge.
Around the edge of the circular space were three, tiered galleries stacked on top of one another.
In the lowest, private dining niches were filled with raucous revellers enjoying the fayre liberally provided for equally liberal pounds.
The second tier held a viewing gallery, filled by costumed groups held back by the balustrades, occasionally shouting encouragement or obscenities at the dancers below.
The third tier, with its tall, windowed arches was a mystery to Thea, she had never been up and could only guess at what went on in a more private space.
Towards the centre back stood a platform on which the large orchestra played.
The velvety sounds filled the room and gave life to the dancers who strode, trotted, skipped and wheeled around the ample space.
At the centre of the room stood a huge plinth, four columns at its corners holding up the domed roof.
On the plinth was a massive fireplace, the heat the flames radiated welcome on Thea’s chilled skin as she made her way through the crowd.
She was just about to ask whether they would dance or eat first when a commotion began in the door behind them. They turned to find the crowd parting in alarm, a man moving at quite an unlikely velocity through them. Speckle twitched alert.
When the man neared them at quite alarming speed Thea saw that he had tiny wheels attached to his shoes. They propelled him across the smooth floor of the space, the look on his face suggesting faster than even he had imagined. Not only that, but he was trying to play the violin at the same time.
‘There are no brakes, are there?’ asked Harriet, as the man careered around, first to the left and then to the right, alarmed dancers scattering before him as he went. Thea and Speckle shook their heads in unison.
‘Uh oh, he’s headed towards…’ said Thea, but it was too late.
The man’s arms flailed, and legs lifted and he careered into the huge mirror at the opposite side of the room, shattering it to smithereens.
The shards of it mixed with the pieces of his broken violin on the floor. And bits of himself, Thea noted.
‘I am perhaps required, Your Grace, Mrs Henry,’ Speckle said as he bowed to them both before jogging over to the casualty. A crowd gathered and peered at the scene, always pleased to have an exciting diversion, even if it were covered in blood.
As soon as it had been ascertained that the man was alive and would live to roll another day, the party returned to full swing.
It wasn’t long before Harriet was off, dancing with a highwayman whose identity was fully concealed by a black scarf covering the head and neck under a tricorn hat and a satin eye mask.
There was enough cleavage apparent for Thea to be exceptionally happy for Harriet and expected that Harriet was even more so for herself.
Around the central table, lit by candles hanging in glass globes, a domino with black and white costume and alternating mask approached her, stood back reverently and gave a deep bow before holding out its hand.
She accepted and they danced, joining the semi-organised mass of bodies circling the fire.
While not always one for dancing, the freeness of it made her smile and she allowed herself to be swept along.
Who was her anonymous friend? It had to be someone who could afford an outfit and a ticket, but whether a draper or a duke she could not know.
Thankfully, whoever it was, was respectful and bowed deeply once more on the conclusion of the dance before slipping away into the crowd.
Chuckling, Thea circled the room to find that Speckle had concluded his bandaging and had commandeered a dining niche with Harriet’s ‘Venus’ and the goddess Athena.
Athena was draped in what appeared to be a sheet but artfully stitched into a Greek style with a wide, shining breastplate complete with ample breasts, a Corinthian helmet and a sash.
A spear and round shield bearing coiled snakes leant on the wall behind her.
It was only when the server brought cold meats, pickles and bread that she realised Athena’s thank you came in the voice of her children’s tutor.
She was quite pleased he couldn’t see her wide eyes behind her mask.
‘Good lord, you look fabulous Mr Fenwick,’ she exclaimed as she sat next to him. ‘I would never have known it was you!
Athena placed a hand on Thea’s arm. ‘I’d love to disagree with you, but don’t I?
’ said Fenwick with uncharacteristic confidence.
‘Look at these boots!’ He pulled back the sheet and poked out a leg under the table, revealing a short leather boot with strapping that made its way all the way up to the top of his calf.
Thea snorted. ‘They suit you.’ She tucked into the fayre and the wine, becoming aware of how ravenous she was.
As they chatted and ate, her eyes wandered back to the dance floor.
Monks, sultans, nuns and Cossacks all flowed around the space together, but it was a pirate that caught her eye.
A fitted, rich burgundy waistcoat contained a shirt of puffed sleeves and black breeches were finished with tall leather boots.
A tricorn hat melded seamlessly with a gun-metal grey, full face mask with an eye patch painted over it.
A leather belt held what looked like a real pistol, but the cutlass may have been a prop.
The costume was striking, but that wasn’t all that caught Thea’s attention.
There was something familiar about the gait – unusually graceful for a man, the poised, upright form and the way he glided with his partner, hand on her waist. As the dance ended the pirate bowed thanks and the two of them parted.
Then he picked a pocket watch out from the waistcoat, flicked it open and ran a finger across the back.