To where the Royal Stables rear their dome.
Majestic edifice, with graceful pride,
Towering above each structure by its side.
–Brighton. A Poemby Mary Lloyd, 1809
THEY WENT UP THE STEYNE, past the Pavilion and took a left onto Church Street. James wondered if Prinny were watching, but he was probably resting for the evening’s assembly. The prince was hampered by the modest size of his Brighton home, which was why the Castle Hotel’s assembly rooms had come in so handy and why Prinny intended to take it over and expand his Pavilion to far larger proportions.
Also, with Nash’s help, it would better match the more fanciful, oriental style of the stables. After all, the stables were nearly bigger than the main house, and the prince’s horses lived better than he did — or at least, that was the joke among the townspeople, as James heard in the tavern on his first night.
In fact, all talk was of the prince’s expansion plans and its great cost.
“I can see the preparations are underway for tonight,” Miss Talbot pointed with her parasol across the extensive lawn.
Given the fine weather, the Regent’s party would be held entirely outside on the west grounds of the Pavilion, with lanterns and tables, musicians, and even a makeshift dance floor.
White tents had been raised and servants were scurrying in and out. The First Yeoman of Confectionery, the Clerk Comptroller of the Kitchen, the Head Table Decker, and many more would be bringing their expertise outdoors to make everything run smoothly.
It was a rehearsal for the main play, the masquerade ball that would be the Prince Regent’s birthday party the following week. James had hoped to be back in London by then, but now, he simply didn’t know.
“The stables seem to be as busy as the Pavilion,” his companion pointed out, and he wrenched his attention back from the night’s impending party to where people were milling around the doorways of the largest stables James had ever known.
“Prinny has a passion for horses. Here, unlike in London, he had room to build the stables of his dreams.”
“Of any pampered horse’s dream, by the look of it,” Miss Talbot said upon entering the large roundhouse.
“If one had to be a horse,” James agreed, “this would be the place.”
Both speechless, they walked to the center of the massive circular building where grooms were leading some horses out to the open courtyard through one archway and some to the rectangular Riding House for exercise through another while other horses were being brought back inside.
But before one could examine anything at eye level, one felt compelled to look up, drawn by the rays of light streaming down onto the dirt-covered brick floor. Although James had seen the massive dome before, he whistled at the sight of it rising above them.
“I thought the outside was spectacular,” Miss Talbot remarked, referring to the building’s oriental-inspired exterior design, “but in here, it’s as grand as Saint Paul’s Cathedral.”
Her head was tilted back, giving him a glorious view of her pale, arched neck as she stared up at the many-windowed cupola through which cheery sunbeams entered.
“I had the royal tour a couple years back when it was first completed,” James told her. “Ask me anything.”
“The dimensions, I suppose, would be my first question.”
“Really? I thought you would ask me about the cost.”
“I’m not always concerned about money,” she said. “But tell me what it cost.”
“Over fifty thousand pounds!”
She clutched at her bosom, drawing James’s gaze to the swell of her breasts.
“It almost bankrupt Prinny at the time,” he added. “His father had to appeal to Parliament to clear the debts.”
“If only my brother could do the same,” she mused.
“If your brother were going to rule England one day as king, then I suppose he could.” James looked up. “The structure took five years to build and from where we’re standing to the top of the dome, it’s sixty-five feet high.”
“I said it was like a cathedral, and I was right.”
He nodded. “Instead of pews, there are sixty-one stalls, twenty-three for coach horses and thirty-eight for all the other saddle horses, including the prince’s prized hunters.”
