Earlier, when Minnie had come into the parlour to announce that the carriage of a family called Hartley was waiting outside, Belinda and Rose had stared at each other in surprise. Neither had given the zoo outing a single thought since the tumult of the previous afternoon.
Rose suggested that Belinda ought to keep the engagement if she at all wanted to, insisting she would not be needed at home for the next few hours. Still, Belinda had felt guilty as she donned her pelisse. Now, as she sat in the carriage, she wondered if she was being courageous in venturing out with newfriends, or cowardly for fleeing Hertford Street right when Mr Alwyn was expected to arrive there.
At a pause in Mrs Hartley’s prattle, Lindy realized a question had just been asked of her.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your aunt is so lovely,” Mrs Hartley began again. “She must have been the belle of the season when she first appeared! How ever did your uncle charm her to the altar? Surely he cannot be as handsome as she!”
Thinking the praise a bit sharp, Lindy gave a breathy laugh and answered, “Oh! Well, Uncle George is a very fine fellow, but yes, Aunt Rose is certainly the more comely of the two.”
“Mamma,” Dora tutted. “I am sure you do not mean to slight the man, especially as he is unwell.”
“Where is the slight in saying that his wife, who is well past her first bloom, is still beautiful?”
Offering a small smile in response, Belinda was thankful when Mrs Hartley launched into another subject, and pried no further into the history of Mr and Mrs Caspar’s courtship.
She herself was fourteen before Nell told her in a whisper that Aunt Rose had been an actress in London. Thinking it would be disrespectful to ask questions about the matter, Lindy had learned nothing more about it except for a few snippets that she overheard from her parents’ conversations. ‘There was nothing improper about it, regardless of what some might say or want to believe about actresses,’ her mother had once said.
And why are actresses so ill-regarded?Belinda wondered for possibly the hundredth time in her life.If their work uponthe stage is thought unseemly, why do even lords and ladies flock to theatres and pay to see it?
The carriage rolled into the yard at Regent’s Park, and Mrs Hartley’s chatter stopped. When the footman swung open the door, she went through it in a flash, her feet crunching across the gravel even before the younger ladies had collected their reticules.
“This way, girls!” Her voice was shrill as she bustled towards the admission gate at remarkable speed.
“Goodness, she is delighted to be here.” There was a touch of embarrassment in Dora’s voice as she and Belinda disembarked. “I am so thankful you agreed to come along with us, Miss Everson. Had you not, I could not enjoy myself nearly as much.”
“I was so pleased to be invited,” Lindy said, which was true even though she had forgotten about the invitation afterwards.
Dora held her hand out shyly as if to be led forward, and Belinda grasped it without hesitance.
“Don’t dilly-dally – we’ve much to do!” Mrs Hartley cried over her shoulder from the front gate. With a flourish, she produced the written order from her reticule, holding it out for the gatekeeper’s examination.
I might prove useful to Miss Hartley today, especially if her mother intends to spend the morning ever ahead of us,Lindy thought as she held her friend’s arm snugly against her side, heading into the gardens.
Directly ahead, several guests were standing, peering into a wrought-iron enclosure. Reaching it, Belinda saw a very large bird was inside, perched on a leafy branch. For Miss Hartley’sbenefit she read aloud a sign which was affixed to the ornate aviary.
“’Doctor Brookes’, A Griffon Vulture.”
“‘Doctor’, is it?” Dora simpered.
Seeing how the bird’s fluffy brown plumage contrasted with its scrawny neck and downy head, Lindy whispered, “He looks more like a bald man in a bear coat to me.”
Laughing, Dora pressed her face against the bars and squinted determinedly at the vulture, making Belinda wonder again what might be wrong with her eyes that a pair of spectacles could not fix.
“Oh, my!” Miss Hartley cried as the bird upreared its wings before resettling itself. “He’s a big fellow, isn’t he?”
Mrs Hartley hooted with laughter. “Indeed! No pot in the kitchen could hold him, though he looks half-plucked for it!”
Chuckling, Belinda was grateful that not every utterance from the woman’s mouth required patience.
However, Mrs Hartley then strode off without a glance backward, saying, “Come, girls! I believe the birds from the Americas are this way!”
Nettled anew, Lindy felt little obligation to hurry after her.
At least I can ensure that her daughter has no trouble keeping up withme.
As she reached for Miss Hartley’s hand, a thought streaked through her mind like a meteor in the night sky.
