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However, in such a place, she could not be downcast for long. So entranced was she by Vauxhall Gardens, she turned to Henrietta and in a moment of unguarded enthusiasm said, ‘Are these not the Elysium fields?’

Her cousin disregarded such fancies as she hurried the party on. But Madeleine could not ignore the sensory richness that washed over her like a wave. In the distance, the orchestra could be heard, the unearthly sounds of horn and violins floating through the trees, calling her to dance. The crowds of happy people were as colourfully dressed and informal in their manners as if they were all on stage. Indeed, Madeleine thought everything so theatrical and Shakespearian that Prospero’s isle would be as this, and she was certain the Midsummer Night’s Dream she had seen at the theatre could not exceed in spectacle these enchanted revellers and the cursed wraiths flitting in and out of the shadows. She would happily have spent the evening exploring all the buildings and sights to be found in these acres of formal gardens, wooded walks and promenades, but they were hurried on to meet Lord Lockhart’s friend.

They found William Paget waiting for them by the Chinese Pavilion. He was a friendly looking young man, pleasingly made, with some expensive touches to his dress which advertised to Miss Lockhart and her mother that here was a young man of some fortune. In the folds of his immaculate white linen cravat nestled a diamond pin, the stone as large as a thrush’s egg. Edwin Lockhart introduced him, and the party walked the short distance to their supper box.

The enchantment continued even in this private space, where against the whole of the back wall was a painting of a shepherdess tending her sheep in the spreading shade of an oak tree. Among its branches lurked a curly-headed young man, a pipe in his hands. Could this be Pan, Madeleine wondered, or a village lad with romance on his mind?

So careful was she not to be accused of deflecting any attention from her cousin that Madeleine barely uttered a word to Mr Paget during the meal. When the last of the famous wafer-thin slices of ham had been consumed and Lord Lockhart suggested an expedition to the Fireworks Tower, she was relieved to get away from the stilted conversation. Miss Lockhart was unwilling to accompany them and suggested Mr Paget keep her company; her mother would act as chaperone.

So Lord Lockhart set out with his cousin on his arm. As they walked up the gravelled promenade under the triumphal arches, Madeleine felt the atmosphere change. The fairies of the enchanted wood had turned malevolent. From the gentility of the supper boxes, they were now walking through a crowd boisterous with alcohol and feral excitement. Miss Rose’s hold on her cousin’s arm tightened as a group of young men, bleary with ale, staggered laughing alongside them.

‘Don’t worry, this is good-humoured revelry and unlikely to turn nasty.’ Edwin Lockhart looked down at the small, slender figure, wide-eyed beside him, and felt an unfamiliar spasm of protectiveness.

‘I’m not worried,’ she said in a firm voice, ‘It’s just so interesting to see. As you say, all of life is here.’

‘Will you be warm enough? You haven’t even brought your shawl.’

‘It’s such a sultry night. It’s actually Hen’s shawl, although she told me not to call her that in public.’

Edwin Lockhart laughed. ‘I shall call her Hen whenever I like. She has such airs! And I knew she’d set her cap at Paget. He doesn’t stand a chance, poor sap. But he’s a good, kind type and Hen could not do much better.’

‘What about your mother’s antipathy to city money?’

‘Mama belongs in the last century. The old nobility cannot dominate for ever. Look at France. When she sees just how much money there is in the Paget coffers, I wager she’ll change her tune. Money is money and it buys freedom and pretty things, whether it’s the filthy lucre of trade or old money from tenant farmers’ back-breaking labour.’ He chuckled. ‘Anyway, Hen’s a little virago, she always gets her way.’

The actual fireworks display was spectacular enough, but Madeleine was sated with spectacle. She was more interested in the variety of shining faces turned skywards, gaping in wonder at cascades of brilliant stars falling out of the ink-black sky. The women’s faces were flushed and blurred with the heat, their elaborate hair confections unravelling in damp strands. The men were tousled and sweating, some had removed their jackets and neckcloths and rolled up their sleeves, revealing glistening throat muscles and broad forearms, a sight seen in the country on farmers and labourers, but in Town, this déshabillé shocked Madeleine with its exciting intimacy.

As the display came to an end, the crowd dispersed in noisy high humour to head back down the long walk to the Orchestra, dancing and the supper boxes. Lord Lockhart was scanning the crowd, his own colour heightened with the heat and the unloosed energy of the night. Madeleine wished so much to talk to someone. She held his sleeve. ‘Edwin, I have no brothers, and with my mother dead, I certainly can’t ask her about anything that matters. Can I ask you something that puzzles me?’

He was still distracted, as if looking for someone, but answered in an amiable voice, ‘Ask me anything, cousin.’

‘What is it men want in a wife? To hear your mother and Hen talk, it is prettiness, breeding and ideally a fortune.’ She looked up expectantly.

‘Oh, Maddie, you’re so serious. I don’t know what to say. I’ve never thought of it before.’ He met her eyes with a frown.

‘That’s because you do the choosing. And you are an eligible young man with a title, good looks and a fortune you are due to inherit. Women have to be chosen and it’s such a confusing thing. Will somebody who is not pretty, does not have noble parents, and certainly has no inheritance ever be able to marry?’

Lord Lockhart laughed in relief. ‘Oh, you’re worried about your own prospects. I thought you were asking me a deep philosophic question for which I have no answer. Well, of course you will attract someone. You’re clever – but don’t be too clever, mind. You’re amusing and kind.’ His face then brightened. ‘And in that dress you look really quite well. It makes your skin glow and your eyes take on a rather intriguing colour. What colour are they?’ He peered close, but it was too dark to see.

‘I think they’re grey, but they change in the light.’ Madeleine was not feeling much consoled by his words, kindly meant if clumsily said. She could not rely on clothes to make her more attractive as she only had this one gown and could not afford any more.

She was just wanting to ask him something else when the young lord caught sight of the person he had been searching for. In an urgent, excited voice, he disentangled her arm and said, ‘Maddie, just wait here for five minutes while I pay my respects to a friend. I’ll be back before you know I’ve gone.’ And without waiting for an answer, he had bounded off into the night towards the wooded verge of the walk.

Madeleine stood under a tree, hoping her cousin would know how to find her in the swirling crowds, where every tree in the dark looked much like another. The Grand South Walk was well lit with the garlands of brilliant globes, but it was shadowy and mysterious beyond their light.

Gradually, the crowds were thinning out and small knots of revellers passed her, some looking with curiosity at a young woman with neither pelisse nor shawl, standing alone, waiting.

Edwin, hurry up, she said to herself. The rooks were settling into their roosts in the trees overhead, and their hoarse cawing made her feel even more alone.

Then at last, a young man was striding towards her and she waved. Edwin had returned, relief flooded through her tense body. But the relief was quickly replaced with further anxiety, for it became clear the man was not Lord Lockhart. He approached her with a smile. ‘Good evening, young miss. Are you waiting for someone?’

‘My cousin is due back any minute,’ Madeleine said coldly.

But the young man’s good humour was uncrushed. ‘Would you like me to wait with you?’

Madeleine thought that could do no harm and indeed, she would be glad of some company. He was well-bred, talked genteelly and was attractive enough. Perhaps she could understand more of the mysteries of the masculine mind and he would make a good character in her book. She needed a brother for her heroine so that she was not so solitary and forsaken.

‘What is your name, Sir?’