12. Vauxhall

Chapter twelve

Vauxhall

London, England ~ September 1810

G yles sighed. If Penelope Trafford gasped and grasped his arm one more time, he thought he might lose his temper. Every single sight at Vauxhall seemed to either carry her into raptures or terrify her beyond measure. His enthusiasm for Miss Trafford's company had begun to pall, wilting like an unwatered rose in the late summer heat.

It was September now, and Lord Kendall had proposed that they visit Vauxhall since it was the last week the weather was likely to remain fair and the gardens likely to remain open. Gyles had explored this tourist attraction with his father and mother four years ago and seen the lovely fairy grove of lanterns by night. This time, however, Gyles' party visited Vauxhall in the afternoon as Lord Kendall did not think it proper for Miss Trafford to dine and dance under the moon until she had officially come out at her own ball .

Without the romance of evening attached to it, Gyles could see the strange mix of tawdriness and sophistication which defined the gardens. The walkways were laid out neatly in symmetrical patterns. Sprinkled throughout were various painted pavilions, empty now but set up for the orchestras that would perform later in the evening. In the open areas, jugglers and acrobats exercised their limbs for the benefit of perambulating tourists. Lord Kendall was adept at directing them past the more unsavoury denizens of Vauxhall, an assortment of pickpockets and prostitutes who called the pleasure gardens home. His chaperonage was so skilled that Miss Trafford, who surely would have asked questions about anything she did not understand, was not even aware of the bits of muslin lurking in the corners.

Over the past month, Gyles had developed a considerable respect for the earl. He was nothing like the villain that Penny had painted him, and his nieces needed no protection from him. The eldest Miss Trafford, as Gyles had come to know all too well, varnished her stories with a great deal of colour that was not always true to life. Some men might find her naive exuberance and high-strung histrionics charming. Gyles was beginning to find them exhausting.

His mother, Mrs. Audeley, had taken the motherless girl under her wing and currently spent every afternoon at Kendall House helping with the preparations for Penelope's ball. When he was not requisitioned to escort Penelope to various amusements, Gyles amused himself by visiting the many public gardens throughout London and continuing his writing on the varieties of roses he encountered. Today, however, he had agreed to visit Vauxhall and was bearing the brunt of Penelope's excitement .

"Will we see the Cascade?" she demanded, looking about for the enormous mechanical waterfall which was one of the main features of the place.

"No," said Lord Kendall. "They only set it in motion once night falls. It runs in time with the fireworks."

"Oh," said Penelope with a pout, having already forgotten her delight at the painted ceiling of the rotunda and her gleeful terror at the tower of acrobats three men tall. "Then why did we even come?"

"The balloon ascension is the chief attraction in the afternoons," said Gyles, pointing to where the ascension was shortly to take place. As a crowd began to form, two men climbed into the woven basket that was tied down by ropes and stakes while above them hundreds of yards of silk billowed in the wind and bulged with air.

Gyles felt Miss Trafford grab his arm again. "Good heavens! I would never, for all the world, climb into that basket. You cannot make me do it."

"My dear Penny," said the longsuffering Lord Kendall, "no one is attempting to make you do so. We've merely come to watch the ascension."

The balloon, still tethered by ropes, began to lift before their eyes. Penny gave a shriek of excited terror and clutched Gyles so tightly that he began to wonder if his arm would be returned to him unscathed. Ten minutes aloft and then it was all over. The men descended to earth again, and Penelope repeated her ultimatum that no one could make her do such a thing. Not even Mrs. Radcliffe's heroines had been subjected to such torment.

"You'd never expect it of me, would you, Mr. Audeley?" Her brilliant blue eyes looked at him beseechingly .

"Of course not, Miss Trafford," said Gyles, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. By this point, his expectations of Penelope were very low indeed. He was beginning to think that Miss Morrison with her seed drills and crop rotation and useful felines was far better company.

Following the ascension, Lord Kendall seemed eager to return to the house, so Gyles and Penelope returned to the carriage and spent a less dramatic ride back to Mayfair discussing the palaces and pedestrians they passed along the town streets. When they reached Kendall House, another sight greeted them outside the front door.

"Uncle Bertie, isn't that your second carriage?" asked Penny.

"Why, so it is!" said Lord Kendall. "You're in for another surprise today, Penny. Come inside and see."