“What is over there?” she asked, looking left.
“The Rotunda. It’s quite a magnificent building,” Lord Mercer told her, “and next to it is the Pillared Saloon. Just past them are the Chinese Temples and the Arcade. Later, we shall—”
“And on the other side?” she asked, scanning to the right of the promenade.
“There are many delights over there,” Lord Mercer said.
Her aunt coughed behind them.
“That is to say, in the area called the Grove, the building that looks like a bejeweled crown is the Gothic Orchestra. Can you see the musicians on the upper level? Behind it is the Turkish Tent. Dancing occurs under the covered area between that and the supper boxes beyond. There are more supper boxes by the—”
“Where is the Cascade? I have heard much about its false waterfall.” Miranda wanted to start running hither and yon to see everything.
“It’s up this walkway, on the left in a copse of trees. You’ll hear a bell strike at ten o’clock after the first concert, and then a surge of humanity will direct you toward the entertainment of the Cascade.”
She turned to him at the sound of sarcasm in his voice.
“I take it you have seen it and are unamused.”
Lord Mercer shrugged. “Don’t let me spoil it for you. Yes, I have seen it, and it is splendid the first half a dozen times to be sure. It’s not worth getting crushed in a veritable stampede, but we’ll make sure you get to see it safely by being in that area before the bell strikes.”
She couldn’t contain her enthusiasm and clapped her hands together.
“What shall we do next? I want to see the Triumphal Arches and the fireworks tower—”
“And the fireworks, too,” he said teasingly.
“Yes, of course the fireworks! What’s the point of the tower elsewise?” She laughed. “And the Octagon Rooms and Handel’s Piazza and what’s the other one?”
“The Gothic Piazza.”
But she had to quell her excitement until after they’d dined. Lord Mercer told her it was simply how things were done at Vauxhall. After crossing the Grove, they found their assigned supper box within the gardens’ colonnades.
“And we have our own private painting.” Miranda marveled at the work of art painted on the back wall of their box.
“There’s one in each,” Lord Mercer told her. “Take note of it, and you’ll know which table to return to during the evening. Each one is by Francis Hayman. He was the artistic director for Vauxhall for a time in the last century. He also painted the Shakespearean scenes in the Prince’s Pavilion.” He pointed to the building next to the proprietor’s house through which they’d entered.
“And the four huge victory paintings in the Pillared Saloon.” He gestured toward the area on the other side of the Grand Walk next to the Rotunda.
“How ingenious to have a different painting in each box. Don’t you think?” Miranda asked her aunt.
“I have seen them before.” Aunt Lucinda leaned forward and took a closer look. “The milkmaids,” she added.
Miranda nodded. “Very pretty milkmaids. It seems to be a May Day celebration.”
Waiters moved quickly between the tables and the kitchens. Their meal consisted of carved cold meats and various salads of vegetables and fruit. Lord Mercer lifted his glass of wine to salute the start of a fine evening. Miranda joined in, but her aunt examined the food on her plate and shook her head.
“The ham slices are even thinner if possible than when I came here at Miranda’s age.”
They all laughed, but soon an expectant hush fell over the diners. Most knew what was to come. Even Miranda knew what would happen while they were dining at dusk.
“I can hardly wait,” she said.
“Any minute,” the baron promised.
As if his words had caused it to happen, a shrill whistle cut through the other sounds in the gardens. Lamp-lighters hurried to their stations throughout the Grove.
Miranda held her breath. The second whistle signaled the lighting of the cotton-wool fuses. In the gathering darkness, the flames could be seen traveling all around the gardens from one oil-lamp to another. In the span of two heartbeats, thousands of lamps flared to life in an array of colors including the one hanging from the ceiling in their own supper box.
