brought a fortune with her. But there is a very strong affection between them.’
‘I am sure there is,’ was all she would say, but her soothing tones made his fingers itch to strangle her.
He took his leave of her at the door of Lord Broxted’s residence, but as he bowed over her hand, a thought struck him. ‘Tell me, Miss Rivington, once you have married your fortune, how do you propose to enjoy it, if you are so ill disposed to shop?’
There was a flash of anger in her eyes but it was gone in a moment. She said haughtily, ‘It is the proximity of all those other shoppers that disgusts me, my lord. When I have my fortune, then the merchants will come to me.’
As the door closed behind her, Carlotta felt an immediate surge of remorse that her antipathy for Lord Darvell had prompted her to utter such an ill-bred comment. She ran up to her room, trying to shut out the look of surprised contempt that she had seen in his face at her words. It was the second time she had seen that look in his eyes and it hurt, even though she knew she deserved it. She sat before her mirror and tried to tidy her curls, which had been sadly flattened by her bonnet.
‘What if he does think me mercenary?’ she asked her reflection. ‘I do not care a fig for his opinion!’
Nevertheless, the feeling of guilt persisted, even though she tempered it with anger at Darvell for being so easily persuaded to think ill of her. Had he learned nothing of her character in those weeks at Malberry Court? It was bad enough that he should consider her capable of chasing a rich husband, unforgivable that he should think that she, with so little herself, should be disdainful of others.
Such reflections made Carlotta more conscious of her behaviour, so that when Mrs Price sent a note to inform them of her plans for their visit to Vauxhall Gardens she was careful not to utter one word of dissent.
‘There are to be eight of us,’ remarked Lady Broxted, scanning the letter. ‘That will be a squeeze at supper, but we shall manage.’
‘Who is going, Aunt?’
‘Let me see…Mr and Mrs Price, naturally, and Mrs Price depends upon my bringing Broxted. I shall have to work on him, for in general he is not fond of such entertainments, which is why it is such a joy for me to have you here, my love, to share in my pleasure. Then there is Julia, and you…oh, and she has engaged Lord Fairbridge and Mr Woollatt to join us. Splendid. How merry we shall be.’
‘Yes, splendid.’
Carlotta smiled and tried to sound enthusiastic. Mr and Mrs Price’s boisterous spirits would more than compensate for her uncle’s retiring nature. She suspected that Julia and Lord Fairbridge would wish for nothing better than to spend an evening together, and Mr Woollatt might be a little dull, but he was perfectly respectable. Besides, there would be Madame Saqui and the fireworks to entertain them all. She told herself it would indeed be a splendid party.
An unseasonably cold spell of weather on the appointed day persuaded Lady Broxted to advise Carlotta to wear her new round gown of blue bombazine with a matching pelisse.
‘I had thought it would not be needed until much later in the year, but it will not do for you to catch a chill, my love.’ Lady Broxted watched her niece putting the final touches to her dress. ‘And you should wear your new kid boots, too, for the rain has left the ground very wet underfoot.’ She went to the door. ‘Mrs Price says we are to take the water to Vauxhall rather than the new bridge—will that not be a treat?’
Carlotta agreed and hurried downstairs to join her aunt and uncle in the carriage that would take them to the river. They found the rest of the party waiting from them on the quay and they all set off in high good humour for Vauxhall.
‘This is your first visit to the gardens, Miss Rivington?’ asked Mr Woollatt as they alighted on the far side of the river.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then I think you will enjoy the spectacle. The Grove, you see, is before us—that large rectangle, enclosed by trees and colonnades. Mr Price has hired a supper box for us on the far side, I believe, from where you will be able to watch and listen to the orchestra while we eat. Before that, of course, there is the cascade to be seen, and later, we have the funambulist.’ He smiled at her look of surprise. ‘Madame Saqui, the tight-rope walker—more properly called a funambulist.’
‘Oh,’ said Carlotta.
His smile widened. ‘You see, Miss Rivington,’ he continued, ‘I will endeavour to fill your evening with education as well as entertainment.’
‘Oh,’ she said again.
‘For example, did you know that there are over one hundred supper boxes in these gardens?’
‘Yes, so shall we find ours?’ put in Mrs Price, coming up. ‘It is far too bright yet to see the walks at their best. Instead, we shall all enjoy a cup of arrack punch.’
Carlotta made haste to agree, thinking she would need something if she was to endure Mr Woollatt’s rather pompous lectures for the whole evening.
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