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‘Goodness! That would be remarkable. That lady operates a very fine mesh that allows few to slip through. Just being seen attending will be the most valuable imprimatur for dear Charlotte, particularly given her irregular parentage.’

Leonora was surprised to hear that one woman could have so much sway, but she advised caution. ‘Lord Dearlove may have been swaggering a trifle. I don’t know if he’ll be successful.’

Lady Bucklebury’s paper-thin hands clapped together with delight. ‘Oh, I think that young charmer may well succeed. From what I hear he’s somewhat more than a favourite with the Duchess who, like Lady Melbourne, believes in keeping her enemies close but her lovers closer. She intends him to be affianced to her daughter, you know.’

Leonora looked at Mrs Priddy for clarification of what she thought Lady Bucklebury meant, but only Nanny P’s widening of eyes revealed that she thought this a little irregular. Lady Bucklebury struggled to her feet and Mrs Priddy hurried to offer an arm in support. Together they walked to the door and the Countess turned to say to Leonora, ‘I’m just off to dress for dinner. I hope to see you two young women in an hour or so.’

The next morning was cloudless and still. Leonora climbed out of bed, opened her curtains and surveyed the brightening view. She hoped the sky was as blue over Hasterleigh. She wondered what was happening with Curate Fopling and Little Grace and whether he had accepted the living at the neighbouring parish; she wondered about the Mildmays and their foreboding over their beloved Charlotte; she wondered if Silas Sproat was being careful not to trespass. Most of all, Leonora wondered what was happening at Rokeby Abbey, desperate to know how things were with the Earl.

She dressed for the day in one of her refurbished gowns of sprigged cotton and was admiring her handiwork in the looking glass when she heard a knock at the door, and Charlotte entered. ‘Good morning, Leonora, are you ready to go downstairs for breakfast?’

‘Good morning, Lottie. You look more cheerful.’

‘I’ve remembered what you said, to treat this as an adventure, not see it as a test of my worthiness to be someone’s wife.’

Charlotte looked particularly pretty in one of her new morning gowns made by Mrs Marmery in French cambric in a pale cerulean blue. The young women linked arms and descended the stairs to find, to their surprise and some dismay, Lady Bucklebury already there, her lace cap sightly awry. ‘Good morning, ma’am,’ both said in unison.

‘Oh, my dears, you do look charming. I myself feel less than charming this morning; sleep eludes me.’

‘Oh, Lady Bucklebury, I’m sorry to hear that. I hope my playing the piano-forte in the evening did not keep you from your bed too long.’

‘No. In fact, it’s quite diverting for such an ancient woman as me having two young women unsettling the stale air in this old house. Now sit down and have some coffee.’

Leonora and Charlotte were in the middle of their second cups when Lady Bucklebury said, ‘On a day as bright as this you should go to Mr Barker’s Panorama in Cranbourn Street. They’ve just changed the view from the Main Circle.’

Charlotte’s face flushed with excitement. ‘I’ve just been reading about this in my guidebook. It’s the best in the world, and visitors feel they’ve been transported into the scene of battle or are actually walking in the landscape. Some more sensitive viewers even feel dizzy or faint. I’d love to go!’

Mrs Priddy had just come into the room and greeted everyone before helping herself to a pastry and sitting down. The Countess looked pleased with Charlotte’s reaction. ‘Good. That will keep you occupied for half the day. But I would like you to be chaperoned by Mrs Priddy as the viewing platforms and the passages to get there are very dimly lit, encouraging all kinds of impertinent behaviour.’

She looked across at Mrs Priddy who nodded. ‘I’ve only seen a small panorama of the view of London when I was young. I think it was shown in a shed in Castle Street to the east of the city. This sounds a most superior experience.’

Lady Bucklebury smiled. ‘Well, you need good light to see the panorama at its best. Today’s weather is set fair. Apparently a new panorama has just been installed. I’ve been told it depicts some battle scene, so I hope it’s not too gruesome.’ She got to her feet and Leonora and Mrs Priddy offered an arm each to help her walk slowly up the stairs to the drawing room. ‘I think I need a little rest,’ she said as she arrived in the room and settled on the sofa next to the fire, already blazing. ‘Now my dears, shall I ask for a chaise to take you there?’

Mrs Priddy was the first to answer. ‘Goodness no, my lady, we are all country women and used to walking. It’s barely a mile after all. But thank you.’ She inclined her head.

It was just after noon when all three women set off to walk to the Leicester Square end of Cranbourn Street where the entrance to the Panorama was situated. In order to avoid the bustle of Bond Street they took a detour through Grosvenor Square. Leonora loved the open gardens and grandeur of the Square with its expanse of sky, grass and trees providing a microcosm of countryside that reminded her of home. As they turned left to walk past the grand façades of the eastern terrace, they noticed a large coach drawn up outside the biggest mansion, its team of magnificent black horses steaming in the afternoon light.

The women approached as shutters were opened and the front door left ajar while luggage and chests were unloaded into the house. Leonora gave a gasp as she recognised the crest on the side of the door of the carriage. She turned to Nanny P, her heart thumping. ‘That’s the Earl’s coach. I thought he never came to Town.’

They hurried past and Mrs Priddy took her arm. ‘’Tis true Lord Rokeby has a house in Grosvenor Square but we don’t know that this house is his. He could have lent his coach to someone else? He could have lent his house to another. We’ll wait to hear what Lady Bucklebury knows before we jump to conclusions.’ She squeezed Leonora’s arm in reassurance; Nanny P knew this young woman well enough to know how turbulent her feelings were about Lord Rokeby, feelings she had not yet managed to fully understand.

Soon they were walking through Berkeley Square where Rufus and Livia Dearlove lived at no. 2. Charlotte pointed out the large house in the corner. ‘I wonder if his lordship has managed to obtain those invitations for us?’

London was still a novelty filled with thrilling and startling sights. Leonora and Charlotte’s eyes were continually caught by the passing show: a dandy in his yellow coat and exaggerated silhouette; young women in enormous bonnets piled with fruit or billowing feathers; fashionable Corinthians driving smart curricles far too fast down Piccadilly, standing to urge their purebred horses on, a long looping whip in hand, a beaver hat pulled low, and the capes on their coats fluttering in the wind. Leonora found the effortless superiority of such men born to power and wealth shamefully attractive.

But the contrasts Leonora and Charlotte found in their first acquaintance with life in London also shocked them: the extravagant splendours of the rich were but the cream on the top of a society where there was also poverty, unimagined by them in their country existence. They had stared in horror at the half-feral children in rags who scavenged with stray dogs for scraps of food, or begged a farthing from passers-by. In the country, most families had a strip of land on which they could grow a few potatoes or root crops, and there was usually a rabbit or bird to be caught for the pot. Their own village was a community in which most of the landowners looked after their tenants, and Reverend and Mrs Mildmay too were diligent in collecting and distributing alms to the poor.

As they walked towards Leicester Square, Charlotte grasped Mrs Priddy’s arm, distressed by the sight of wounded ex-soldiers, destitute and disfigured, congregated in small bands in a churchyard. ‘Where do these heroes who have fought for their country find comfort and food?’ Her voice was urgent.

Mrs Priddy responded with sympathy, ‘It is part of the ongoing suffering of wars. The wounded return too often to find themselves homeless and unable to work.’

Charlotte’s voice was quiet. ‘I wish Lord Rokeby had not settled so much money on me and instead would set up homes and employment for the soldiers who came back wounded from the war.’

Soon they were crossing Leicester Square and queuing up by a small door at the beginning of Cranbourn Street. The tall brick rotunda that housed the Panorama loomed above them. Now that the war had curtailed travel even for the rich who had foregone their Grand Tours, this was the only way to experience the thrill of foreign lands. The excitement was palpable.

The eager customers were informed that in the main gallery, or ‘Large Circle’ as Mr Barker liked to call it, would be displayed a view of the Battle of Vitoria, the decisive victory the previous year when the Marquess of Wellington had broken the back of the French army in the Peninsular War. The name alone inspired a surge of patriotic pride in English breasts and Leonora and Charlotte joined the excited procession through the dimly lit corridor and up the stairs to the first viewing platform.

Here the emergence from dark to dazzling light was a shock to the senses. Everyone seemed disorientated for a moment. Charlotte exclaimed, ‘Look! It’s as if we’re actually there, watching from a hilltop.’ The windowless viewing platform was intentionally kept dark so as to better show the spectacle on the canvas before them, bathed in the natural light flooding down from the glass-domed roof.