‘It came just before we left. I took it directly from the hall table and I don’t think Aunt or Uncle noticed.’
‘Mrs Mary Smith,’ Phoebe frowned, just as the carriage door was yanked open.
‘Hurry up, you two! Or we’ll miss the picnic!’ Matilda danced, whirling around in front of the gated entrance to The Grand Georgian Hotel.
‘Hush now, dear,’ their aunt fussed. ‘There’s plenty of time! And do tie your pelisse, though it is so unseasonably warm I do believe we may be able to promenade without… What do you think, dearest?’ she asked Uncle Higglestone, who was still immersed in a smuggled copy of theBath Chronicle and Weekly Gazette.
‘Oh, yes, quite, quite,’ he mumbled absent-mindedly. ‘Though perhaps we’d best not throw all caution to the wind, lest the girls wish to see the fireworks, or Merlin Swing?’
‘Ooh, yes! I wish to see all of it!’ Matilda grinned, her eyes wide with excitement.
‘Maybe a walk to the lantern boats after supper, too?’ Phoebe smiled, glancing at the busy entrance to the dusky garden.
Josephine had read the Bath’s Royal Pleasure Gardens pamphlet aloud numerous times over the past few days, so Phoebe could readily understand Matilda’s excitement. The gardens were unlike anywhere any of them had ever been before, with entertainers, a bandstand, a Grecian Temple, an assortment of classical ruins, and numerous lantern-lit nooks and pathways.
‘A walk to the lantern boats after supper sounds very agreeable.’ Her aunt nodded approvingly. ‘Now, then, girls,’ she said, regrouping their small party inside the entrance. ‘While the picnic is by invitation only, the gardens themselves remainpublic, and there is always the chance of crossing paths with anundesirable.’
She enunciated the last word very carefully while shaking out her new ivory parasol and giving the busy gardens one of her suspicious looks.
‘Don’t worry, Aunt,’ Matilda placated, ‘Phoebe is an old hand when it comes to undesirables, did you know she once fought?—’
‘Where is the picnic, exactly?’ Phoebe interjected, taking hold of her sister’s arm and propelling her swiftly towards a miniature ruin with water cascading over its cracked walls.
‘Have you seen this?’
‘But I was just––’
‘Matilda!’ Phoebe remonstrated as soon as they were out of earshot. ‘How many times do I have to remind you? There must be no mention of highwaymen, duels, trousers, card games, wig powder, or anything else vaguely incriminating!’
‘That list is too long!’ Matilda returned, scowling.
‘Oh, it’ssopretty,’ Sophie chimed in loudly, peering closely at the ruin. ‘... Or devil’s brew, or questions about what men are born with,’ she added under her breath, making Matilda scowl even harder.
‘I don’t see why…,’ she objected.
‘Well, if it isn’t the intrepid pirates!’ a new jovial voice exclaimed. ‘Although, there appears to be no swordplay among you this evening, only a host of delightful young ladies ready to enjoy the Sydney Gardens spring picnic. What a happy coincidence! Captain Elliot Damerel at your service, Miss Fairfax and Miss…’
‘Fairfax – they’re all Fairfaxes!’ Aunt Higglestone beamed, bustling forward.
‘Good evening, Captain, and Viscount Damerel, too! What a pleasure! I do recall your mentioning you might be here this eve, and it is delightful to make your further acquaintances. May I present Miss Phoebe Fairfax, Miss Sophie Fairfax, Miss Josephine Fairfax, and Miss Matilda Fairfax, my wonderful nieces!’
Phoebe straightened instantly, relieved to find herself behind a wall of excitable sisters, amid the clamour of greetings. She inhaled deeply. To cross paths with the viscount at the modiste’s and Assembly Ball was unlucky enough, but to run into him again at a garden picnic felt an injustice of the highest order.
She raised her eyes reluctantly, taking in the brothers’ gleaming Hessian boots, spotless pantaloons and fitted coats of superfine cloth before reaching their faces – one filled with mirth, the other seemingly devoid of anything at all. The viscount regarded her directly, and she felt a brief rise of agitation, wondering what part of a spring family picnic a disdainful viscount could possibly find of interest.
‘And of course, you remember Mr Higglestone? From the races?’
Clearly, neither had any such recollection of the owlish Uncle Higglestone, who’d found himself on the receiving end of one of Aunt Higglestone’s sharpest prods, but were too polite to say so.
‘But of course! It is a pleasure to meet you again, Mr Higglestone, andallthe very fair Miss Fairfaxes too,’ the captain responded.
Phoebe watched the pleasantries being exchanged, feeling as though her stomach was already aboard the Merlin Swing. Even if the viscount hadn’t seen through her disguise at the Assembly Ball, it was clear he still thought her a hoydenish miss – while the captain was a prime suspect for Aurelia’sspot of bother.
‘We have a party bent on pleasure this evening, Viscount,’ her aunt continued delightedly. ‘Why don’t you accompany us for a short while?’
Furiously, Phoebe trod on Sophie’s boot, but her sister appeared to be entirely transfixed by the captain.
‘That is kind, but—’ the viscount began.
