The Dukes of Vauxhall by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-05-02T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

* * *

Poppy had never visited Vauxhall Gardens except as a performer, and for a few hours of indecision on the day of the masked ball, she considered taking back her acceptance of Leo’s invitation. Would the gardens disappoint when seen at eye level? And what would be the purpose of spending time with someone she would soon have to leave behind?

In the end, her heart had won out over her head. The purpose, she decided, was to fill one’s time in joyful ways. And she would not be disappointed in Leo’s company—or at least, she never had been before.

Her only bit of fancy dress was her performance costume, so she shrugged into it. After donning her much-used black cloak and a blue half mask, she met Leo at their appointed place. They had planned an unfashionable early arrival, hoping to avoid the worst of the crowds this way, but already the whole city seemed to be out and about and celebrating. Before Poppy and Leo had cast off across the Thames in a barge, full-crammed with other costumed Vauxhall visitors, a crowd of other masked and laughing people had gathered on the north bank for the barge’s next trip across.

Alas, the long-awaited Vauxhall Bridge wasn’t yet completed, so the crush of traffic along the Thames was dreadful. But being boated across the river to the pleasure gardens was, Poppy decided, part of the charm of arriving—when one didn’t have to prepare for a high-wire performance. She could enjoy the flickers and twinkles of the thousand blazing lamps, enticing through the trees surrounding the gardens, and soak up the merry mood of those around her.

As soon as they threaded into the park itself, she heard the familiar strains of the orchestra. From the ground, the music was much clearer than it was at sixty feet in the air. Woodwinds and strings, percussion and singers, they wove a tune that roiled the crowd into a rhythmic press forward along the brightly lit central arcade.

Poppy was garbed similarly to Leo, who wore a black domino over his clothing and a mask over his eyes. Compared to others around them, their fancy dress was plain indeed. A laughing king of hearts passed by, arm in arm with a mustachioed man dressed as a stout fishwife, and more than one Highlander in a long kilt was pressing at the spirit gum holding on a false beard. A Grecian maiden strolled in white and gold elegance; a half-dozen Lord Nelsons were scattered about, recognizable by their wigs and eye patches.

Leo and Poppy had each received a ticket for a single glass of champagne with admission, but as they edged their way toward the park’s central quadrangle, the crowd seemed far tipsier than those single tickets would warrant. Shepherdesses showed their bosoms; queens flirted their skirts. The price of admission to the Grand Gala was far more than usual, but the crowd was heavier.

All of London wanted to wear a mask, it seemed, to fling off the ordinary and become someone else.

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