Chapter Sixteen
Robert had departedfor Birmingham in the north on business, planning to visit the iron works. He would be gone for over a week. Kate missed him although they’re reached a kind of polite truce. She liked to see him at breakfast or over the dinner table. She tried to fill in the lonely days, taking lessons on the harp and riding with friends in the park.
She attended another literary soiree at the Duchess of Devonshire’s house, where ladies of thetonread poetry. Mrs. Smedley read John Donne’s poem,The Broken Heart, in throbbing tones, her bosom swelling with emotion. Donne’s concept of love made Kate want to giggle. She did not accept ‘love as a ravenous pike’ or to ‘liken her heart to the small fish it feeds on.’
After the polite clapping died away, Lady Ellis leaned forward and tapped her on her arm. “I must say I wouldn’t mind if my husband fought for my honor, Lady St. Malin.”
Kate stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”
Lady Ellis’ raised her eyebrows. “Surely you’ve heard your husband fought Lord Southmore.”
“When was this?”
The lady’s eyes gleamed. “Some weeks ago. In the early hours of the morning on Hampstead Heath. He beat Southmore soundly.”
Kate remembered Robert’s bruised and cut cheek.
“He would not tell you, of course. Lord Southmore was laid up for some time with a broken rib and damage to his hands.”
A discussion followed about the Gothic novel published that year,An Arabian Tale, but Kate had yet to read it. As soon as it was polite to do so, she left.
She returned home, her mind in a muddle. Had Robert fought to defend her honor? Or had it been a matter of pride? Jealousy? She couldn’t be sure and was a little ashamed of herself for wishing Robert would plant Southmore a facer. Well he had, apparently, although she hadn’t asked him to, and it didn’t thrill her that he’d hurt the man because of her.
As the carriage negotiated the busy streets, she came to the opinion that it was possible to be lonelier in the city than the country. In Cornwall, the days had passed serenely, without the demands made of one in London. Perhaps she really wasn’t suited to city life.
Lady Moncrieff, who she had not met previously, had invited her to a costume party at Vauxhall Gardens the following Friday. She assured Kate that it would be perfectly acceptable for her to come alone. As Robert wasn’t expected home until the following day at the earliest, Kate accepted, with the hope that it would lift her spirits.
On Friday evening, dressed in lavender silk and wearing a lacy black mask, Kate traveled with Lady Moncrieff in her carriage. Vauxhall Gardens was situated over the Thames River, and many arrived by boat to pay their shilling entrance fee.
Kate found it remarkable with its chinoiserie buildings, pavilions, temples, and the wooded wildernesses of elm, sycamore, and lime. Couples dressed in finery strolled the romantic Druid walk and many romantic assignations took place among the trees.
The square was enclosed by walks and the western wall of the gardens with an orchestra housed in a building in the center. A statue of the composer, Handel by Louis Francois Roubiliac, took pride of place. Lady Moncrieff informed Kate that during his lifetime, Handel often visited the gardens.
In the grove, she and her hostess settled in a supper box which easily held the fifteen in their party. Each box had been defined by a different painting, none of which could be considered fine art.
While a supper of chicken and thin slices of ham was served, a hush fell over the crowd as a thousand oil lamps burst into light, casting the gardens in a fairy-like glow. Kate wished Robert was here to see it. She felt quite hollow attending this alone.
As the evening passed, with wine freely imbibed, the crowds in the grove grew rowdier. Kate grew dismayed when her party become a risqué affair. A gentleman drank from a lady’s slipper. Robert would never have approved. Another reason for him to find her lacking, she supposed. Well, she was here now and must make the best of the evening as it became too difficult to leave. After the guests in her box melted into the crowd, Kate sat alone, but for one other woman, she had only been introduced to that evening. She found it a struggle to engage her in conversation as the woman craned her neck to gaze at the crowd. Then a man approached and escorted the lady onto the dance floor. Left alone, Kate’s spine tingled with unease.
*
Robert arrived backat ten of the clock weary but pleased to have sorted out the problems at the iron works. There was now a good manager who Robert felt confident would prove worthy. A footman informed him her ladyship had not yet returned from Lady Moncrieff’s party at Vauxhall Gardens. Robert grew annoyed. Kate should be here awaiting his return. It appeared she hadn’t missed him. That it might be his fault just made him even edgier. He’d been like a bear of late, burdened with all this responsibility, and he hadn’t appreciated Kate keeping things from him. Although that, too, was most likely his fault. Not to mention, having to deal with his mother’s husband again, who set his teeth on edge.
Robert climbed the stairs with a hot bath in mind. Lady Moncrieff was not the sort of company he wished Kate to foster. While his valet drew the bath, Robert nursed a brandy in his dressing room. To be fair, Kate had not expected him home until tomorrow. He grudgingly admitted he’d missed her, more than he’d thought possible, and hoped that they might try to narrow the gulf that stretched between them, so wide, it seemed more difficult to cross than the Bay of Bengal.
He should join her. Vauxhall could be entertaining, and he’d rather she experienced it with him. Robert tossed back the brandy, leapt up, and instructed his valet to bring his evening clothes. He washed and changed while Soames went in search of a hackney.
Soon, Robert sat in a carriage rattling along the dark London streets.
He paid the jarvie at the entrance to the gardens. On his left, the Thames’ waters were lit by moonlight. “Wait for me and you’ll get double fare,” he said to the jarvie.
“Right you are, gov.”
Beneath a profusion of lamps, Robert strode down the wide avenue filled with noisy revelers. Lady Moncrieff would have taken a box in the grove.
*
An inebriated manasked Kate to dance. She’d just refused him when a better dressed gentleman in a deep purple mask lined with gold approached with the same intention. She accepted him for it was certainly better than sitting alone attracting unwanted attention. After the dance, she would respectfully bid goodnight to her hostess and hope that she might come with her. If not, Kate would find a hackney. There seemed to be many carriages for hire when they’d arrived. That is, if she was able to locate Lady Moncrieff among the people crowding the grove.
