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* * *

Two days after the Vauxhall Gardens firework extravaganza, Ferdinand Shilton presented himself at the house in South Audley Street at two o’clock in the afternoon. Immaculately, if soberly, dressed he asked for an audience with Mrs Payton. Shown into the pretty drawing room, he stood at the window, looking out, thinking his life was about to be changed for ever. He ignored a nagging unease and straightened his shoulders. Ferdinand Shilton was to do the manly thing, find himself a suitable spouse and join his beloved friends in the grown-up world of married men.

The scent of rose water made him turn and there was Mrs Payton, her still lovely face alert and encouraging. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Shilton. May I offer you something to drink?’

* * *

Three days after the intrigues and scandals of Vauxhall, certain breakfast tables in London were lively with talk and speculation. Servants ensured important gossip travelled as fast as wildfire, certainly faster than any newspapers, and it was thus that the Lockhart family heard the news they were expecting – Mr Shilton had asked for Miss Payton’s hand in marriage and been accepted.

Edwin Lockhart was down for breakfast earlier than usual and he poured out a cup of coffee for his mother. ‘Don’t be too downcast, Mama. I think Hen’s got her sights firmly set on Mr Paget. He hasn’t got a chance of evading his fate and he’ll make your daughter almost as rich as the new Mrs Shilton will be.’

‘Yes, but Mr Paget is not as well-bred or as well connected.’ Lady Lockhart was grumpy. ‘I don’t like this match, Edwin, as you know. A girl as pretty as Henrietta, and with her family’s eminence, should be setting her sights higher.’

‘But, Mama, the class that gets its wealth from trade is the coming thing. William Paget and his and Hen’s children and grandchildren will become the new aristocracy. She’ll never want for anything. Stop being so last century, Mama, loosen your stays a little.’

‘Edwin! I’d appreciate a trifle more respect.’ She bit into a soda scone and added, ‘I also think you should show some interest in your grandmama. Don’t take for granted that the old lady will leave you her estate entire. She has a kick in her gallop; it’s a family trait. Your father and her were like awkward twins and he always chose to do the contrary of what was expected of him.’

‘Oh really, Mama, I’ve got better things to do than sit in the half-dark, intoning some tedious poesy to her. I leave that to Maddie, who seems to like books and reading.’ Just at that moment, Madeleine came into the room and looked surprised to see Lord Lockhart there. ‘Good morning, Maddie. Have you heard the latest gossip from the servants’ quarters? Mr Shilton is to marry Miss Payton. Mama is distraught at having to strike the most eligible man off her list.’

Lady Lockhart looked up with a frown. ‘Edwin, enough of your raillery! Good morning, Madeleine. Help yourself to coffee before it runs out.’

Madeleine was pleased to be able to turn away as she knew her cheeks had flushed and she did not wish anyone to know of her presumption in nurturing a tendresse for Mr Shilton.

So, he was to be married. The nicest, most heroic man she knew could only now be hers in her imagination, conjured up on the pages of her novel and in her dreams.

As she sat to eat a boiled egg with some buttered bread, Madeleine saw the butler, Moss, hover by the door with a letter in his hand. He indicated it was for her and slipped it unobtrusively against the ormolu case of the handsome bracket clock sitting on the chest in the hall. There were advantages to being not very visible in a household, as Edwin Lockhart and his mother continued their desultory gossip while she hurried to finish her breakfast. Madeleine was out of the room before it occurred to them to glance her way again.

The letter glowed white in the dusky light of the hall and she picked it up and walked quickly to her room. She did not recognise the well-balanced handwriting and could not have known that this was one of three letters Ferdinand Shilton had written in a flurry of communication.

Madeleine broke the seal and opened it carefully. She did not receive letters and wondered with some trepidation if this was good news or bad. In an attractive cursive hand, she read:

Dear Miss Rose

I promised to replace your dress so Cruelly treated by that Ruffian at Vauxhall. I hope Tomorrow at two hours after Noon might suit? Miss Payton will accompany me to collect you in my Chaise. We will all go to the mantua maker Madame Carteret in Bond Street. I think very Highly of the Establishment.

If this is not at your Convenience, send word to Brook Street.

Sincerely Yours

Ferdinand Shilton

Madeleine sat down heavily on her bed. She was nonplussed. On the spur of the moment, he had said he’d replace her torn gown, but this seemed not a usual thing at all. She wondered if she had to tell her aunt or whether she could just leave with Dot and not mention it to anyone else. Lady Lockhart and her daughter usually called on their acquaintances in the afternoon and if she accepted Mr Shilton’s invitation, she would be home before they returned. The idea of visiting a fashionable modiste in Bond Street was exciting enough without the possibility of leaving with an actual ready-made garment, or at least an order for a new one.

With that thought glittering in her imagination, Madeleine did not hesitate but went into the kitchen to ask Mrs Porton if she could spare Dot for the first half of the following afternoon.

As she returned to her room, she was surprised to almost bump into Lord Lockhart. ‘There you are, Maddie! You disappeared from breakfast before I could ask you a favour.’

Madeleine looked up expectantly. ‘Yes, Cousin Edwin?’

He was uneasy and said, ‘Come into the room, Mama has gone.’ Leading the way, he pulled out a chair for her and continued rather more humbly than usual. ‘Mama thinks I’m neglecting Grandmama, but really, Maddie, you understand how tedious I find reading to her. I leave that to you, you’re so much better with her. But I wondered, is there anything I could buy her as a present? Anything she’d particularly like?’

Madeleine thought for a moment, then inspiration struck. ‘She’s very partial to a pineapple.’

Lord Lockhart struck his forehead with his hand in exasperation. ‘Damn, Maddie! That’s too costly. I’m already in dun territory, where am I going to find the blunt for a pineapple. Has the old lady lost her wits?’

‘They can be purchased for much less down at the Docks where the West Indies boats come in. There are always a few being sold by irregulars.’

He looked at her suspiciously. ‘How do you know this, may I ask?’