⭐️The scene pictured above is of the Orchestra at Vauxhall Gardens. You can see one of the supper-boxes bottom left. But by the fashion worn in the painting we can easily tell that this was Vauxhall in the eighteenth century, therefore, a few years (perhaps decades) prior to Emma's visit in the nineteenth century.⭐️

It chanced that by Tuesday morning neither of the Miss Lucases had attended the masquerade ball at the King's Theatre the night before, those tickets having been far too dear. Milli had never been to one and volubly repined at having missed the opportunity to attend that one particularly; for she was quite certain that Victoria had gone as planned.

Their uncle, with his usual dry wit and candor, evinced not a whit of sympathy for his niece. "You, my dear, are silly and young enough to bear such grievous disappointments; and I imagine you will get over it soon enough."

Milli could not help snickering at her uncle's droll words and turned to see Emma rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "But you are still planning to take us to Vauxhall Gardens tonight as promised, Uncle. Is that not so?"

Uncle Haywood turned the page of his book and looked over the rim of his spectacles to answer her. "If I must."

"Ay, that you must." Milli sat thoughtfully a moment before her eyes widened with unbridled excitement. "Oh! we must take a boat across the Thames and enter by the Water Gate! I read in La Belle Assemblée that Lord Alvenly went by boat specifically to see the naumachia!"

"What is a naumachia, my dear?" Their poor aunt could not keep up at all with what was au courant the way Milli did.

"The sea-battle enactment! But I think we shall arrive too late to see it. Oh! I hope the Duchess of Devonshire will be there! Can you only imagine!" Said Milli, beaming at her aunt and sister before turning excitedly towards her uncle. "I say, uncle, we simply must go by boat!"

Millicent was ordinarily quite a practical sort of girl; her love and respect for her family was boundless, but she, like most of her peers, thrived on news of the celebrities of the season and the genteel goings on of the nobility as reported in her fashionable ladies magazines.

"Dearest Milli!" her uncle exclaimed with a snort, setting down his book," how shall you defray the cost of such an extravagance?"

"Me, uncle?!"

Here Emma too added to the conversation, with a teasing wink at her sister. "Indeed, sister, for you haven't a feather to fly with, never mind the cost of that particular fare."

"Very well," Milli acceded. "By carriage it is!" Then, thinking to bring about a compromise, she added, "But surely we shall have supper there at the very least."

"There, again, I must dissatisfy you. You shall not see me paying a shilling for a slice of ham thin enough to see through!" Robert Haywood picked his book up once more. "No, we had much better dine early and have a far more superior supper here before going out."

Later that evening, at around seven o'clock, they were all ensconced within the coach as it crossed Westminster Bridge and then, via Kennington Road, pulled into Bridge Street. The ladies were finally handed down, each dressed in new frocks, for Vauxhall was the place to be seen and admired. Milli was thrilled at the prospect of possibly seeing the famous ladies of the day, dashing gentlemen and lords of the realm; perhaps their notorious light o' loves as well...

Once they'd paid the requisite three shillings, they entered through the turnstile and beheld the magnificent quadrangle — four colonnades surrounded by walks and planted trees. The sun still sat low in the sky and, although they could not deny the beauty of such a fine sunset, they looked forward to dusk with eager anticipation, for the trees were, even now, festooned with the variegated lamps and colored glass that Vauxhall was so famous for. It would be dazzling by night; or so they'd heard.

They made for the Grove wherein the orchestra was situated, a gothic building that was not very impressive, or particularly pretty, by day light. Beneath each of the colonnades were the supper-boxes. The banquet tables were adorned with white napery and were, even now, filled with laughing diners, the liveried waiters scurrying back and forth with laden meat platters, salads, and various potations.

"Rack punch," said her uncle to them, pointing towards one large silver bowl borne atop a passing waiter's tray, "is Vauxhall's most famous libation." He had a very mischievous smirk on his face as he continued. "I dare not partake of it again, but I did once before and awoke the next morning with my head wracked with agonies."

"Hence the name 'rack' punch!" Emma laughed, adjusting her parasol as they turned into a stretch of gravel lined with tall elms.

"That is my opinion, but others might suggest the appellation conceived from the arrack and rum within that ghastly concoction." He winked at both girls, their aunt watching on in amusement. "You have been warned."

It was during their perambulations along the Grand Walk that Milli gasped delightedly as she appraised the handsome couples that promenaded alongside and all around them, marveling at the fichus, the vivid gowns, the latest hairstyles, the aigrettes, the vibrant headdresses, and the stunning jewelry. Even Emma was diverted.

"Halloa!" she cried of a sudden, waving her hands at two ladies and a gentleman standing nearby, chatting beside one of many marble statues that littered the grove.

Emma immediately recognized Miss Winterly, but not the elderly couple with whom she was conversing. Stranger still, rather than greeting her friend with equal enthusiasm, as was her usual habit, the lady seemed a little agitated at being thus discovered, for she looked to be bidding her companions farewell; and would now, as a result of Milli's sharp eyes, be further delayed.

However, she quickly masked her impatience with a welcoming smile as she introduced the Haywoods and Lucases to the couple beside her. Lord and Lady Middleton inclined their heads politely, if a bit coldly, and soon after bid them adieu. Although Miss Winterly glanced frequently at her watch, she said nothing that gave Milli or the Haywoods reason to doubt her sincerity at being "so very pleased" to see them all. Emma, however, felt differently.

"But now I must beg your leave! My brother is just arrived home, no doubt, and-"

"He is come early then?" Emma's blood stirred instantly at the mention of Lord Winterly, much to her annoyance. "I thought you did not expect him back till next week?"

Victoria's smile wavered as her eyes transferred to Emma; there was an imperceptible lowering glint in them as she answered her friend. "He sent word yesterday that he would be home earlier than initially expected. And I have missed him dreadfully, therefore, I must take my leave; this minute in fact."

Taking Milli's hands in hers for a fond squeeze, she affected some small regret as she parted from them, assuring the sisters that she looked forward to seeing them at Almack's Assembly Rooms on the morrow where they could further discuss their upcoming visit to Yorkshire. With those parting words, she left them post haste, her tall frame gliding effortlessly through the throng as though drifting through the serried mass.

Fortunately they were spared the mortifying prospect of having no acquaintances amongst those assembled in the pleasure gardens by aunt Sophie's being hailed by her old friend, Mrs. Ludlow. Thus their party was increased by three, for Mrs. Barbara Ludlow had brought her two daughters, Mary and Sybil, who were, although lacking in sense, not wanting in looks or affability.

They strolled along the walkways and under the flowering arbors, were serenaded by the lively fiddlers and availed themselves of far too many sweets, but at length twilight finally settled over London, transforming the gardens into a spectacle of light.

Thousands of lamps, strung like ribbons between the bowers, flickered amidst the stately trees, and the orchestra itself, where a cotillion was underway, was illuminated with just as many tiny, twinkling lights. The cast iron pillars of the colonnades, under which they passed, too were bedecked with the chatoyancy of glass lamps. Emma had never seen anything so whimsical nor so spectacular as vauxhall by night.

When they left the rotunda, having admired it's vast interior and listened a while to the music within, Emma was stopped by a familiar voice that called her name. She whirled around to find that Madame Leblanc had appeared out of nowhere and was making her way, elegantly withal, across the marble flags towards her.

"Emma," she said again, reaching her side, "what an unexpected delight!"

"Good evening, Anna!" She looked around to see if M. Leblanc had accompanied his wife, but saw no gentleman hurrying after her.

Once the introductions were dutifully executed, the two women walked side by side a little ways behind the rest of the party. "Do you know," said Anna, "I have caught myself thinking often of you."

"Indeed?" She did not believe herself, in looks or manner, to be a woman who might recommend herself to any stranger's memory. Strange then that this stunning creature should prove to be the exception to that rule.

"I hope you will not find me impertinent, but I regretted not leaving you my card the instant you disappeared out the door on Tuesday."

"Well it is fortunate then that we should run into each other tonight."

"You may say that!" Anna laughed.

"Did Monsieur Leblanc not accompany you hither? I had hoped to meet him, and personally congratulate him on his wonderful collection of books."

Anna seemed to hesitate a moment, her eyes darting momentarily to the side before returning to their previous state of serenity. "Perhaps another time." She then waved her hand and effectively dismissed the subject of her missing husband, clearly disrelishing the direction of the topic. "But now you mention the books, I wanted to inquire again after the success of your research."

"You must have thought me such an odd tabby, considering my choice of reading, but I can assure you that I do not normally-"

"On the contrary," Anna interjected with a chuckle, "your interests rather reflect my own. It is why I found myself thinking of you often; we seem to be of kindred minds. And then to see you here the very instant I thought of you... Indeed a happy fortuity this!" She winked genially as she hooked their arms together.

They walked on a moment in companionable silence, Emma watching the fireworks erupting from the tower, the yellow lights playing over the calm ripples of the Thames.

"Would I be too presumptuous to ask you to have tea with me at Bermondsey spa tomorrow afternoon?" Anna asked. "I hear the tea garden is lovely."

"I should have liked to, very much in fact, but Miss Winterly has already managed to secure vouchers to Almack's for my sister and I."

"Is that Miss Victoria Winterly perchance?" Anna's smile withered suddenly.

"Yes. Do you perhaps know her?" Emma had not missed the swift and unfavorable change in Anna's countenance.

"I know of her..." She said nothing more as they continued.

The sudden clanging of a bell brought Milli to her side with a spirited shriek of felicity. "It's nine o'clock! Make haste! I want to get a good spot in front of the cascade!"

Without further ado they all hurried off, arriving betimes to see the curtains drawing back to reveal a lighted, mechanical waterfall. It frothed and bubbled as the music lent its whimsical notes to the water driving the quaint little miller's wheel. The whole extravaganza lasted only fifteen minutes before the curtain close.

"What what!" said their uncle playfully. "Is that all?!"

"It was wonderful!" cried Milli, breathless with awe.

Mr. Haywood pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and considered the time. "Now that we have reveled in all the pleasures of Vauxhall, perhaps you might permit me, ladies, to find my bed?" To that end he ushered them back towards the grove where their carriage awaited them at Bridge Street. 

Anna, meanwhile, had attached herself to Emma's side as before. "How long have you known the Winterlys," said she.

"Not long at all, but Victoria has taken quite a liking to Milli and we are to spend a few weeks with them at Winterly Castle; not far from Whitby, I am told."

This news seemed to alarm Anna, for her eyes flared momentarily and her mouth tightened before she composed herself once more. "And how do you get on with them?"

"I cannot say that I care for her very much. Of Lord Winterly I see very little, but he seems to keep to himself and eschew company whenever he can. I have met him socially only twice." She purposefully did not mention the evening he had pulled her from a speeding carriage's fatal wheels.

Anna looked about distractedly, worrying at her bottom lip with perfect white teeth. "Could I ... would you mind if I imposed and called on you tomorrow morning?"

"Not at all! That would be lovely."

"Then I shall see you just before noon." Thereat she bid them all goodnight and disappeared into the crowd as quickly as she had appeared; her sudden departure wholly reminiscent of Victoria's.

"Was she alone and unchaperoned?" Aunt Sophie looked askance between Emma and her husband.

"I believe so," she answered.

"Very irregular." Mr. Haywood shook his head disapprovingly. "Very unseemly indeed."

"Uncle." Milli, distracted by something else altogether, pointed unobtrusively to where a couple were fleeing excitedly into one of the dark and unlighted walkways. "Where are they going? There isn't anything to see that way, is there?"

Mr. Haywood swallowed a little awkwardly, his neckcloth practically bobbing with the effort, but gave only a noncommittal response as he plowed on, his wife at his side and his nieces following in their wake.

"Emma? Who was that man with?" Milli transferred her questioning gaze to her sister. "She was dressed rather garishly, did not you think?"

"That would be a lady-bird; or suchlike." These gardens in particular were known to be the frequent haunts of both courtesans and impures; where gentlemen could bring their chère-amies for a bit of ... whatever avocations they partook in under the dark and shadowed foliage.

"Lawks!" was all Milli replied, her mouth agape as she sought to stare after the would-be lovers. Finally she erupted into a fit of giggles; but they abruptly stopped when her uncle shot her a disgusted frown over his shoulder.

The rest of the evening proved uneventful and soon after they arrived home the family retired, each to their respective beds. However, Emma's restless mind declared itself an enemy to slumber and she tossed and turned before giving the matter up entirely. 

She had not been visited by that lustful wight, come to harass her dreams, since the first, and only, night it had appeared. To herself at least, she could finally admit how truly she feared that it hadn't been a figment of her mind's cruel plotting.

Soon the church bells tolled the midnight hour and she rose from her bed to stare at the empty street below her window, vacant except for the watchman and his dog patrolling the alleys, his lamp emitting its steady, lonely glow. Finally, though, she withdrew from the casement and climbed back into bed, her eyelids heavy at last.

By morning when she chanced to inspect the thread of hair at the clasp she found it snapped in twain, her horror mounting as she stared. Remarkably, the window stood sealed, as she'd left it, and the hasp was still in place as though naught were amiss. 

"What the devil!" she hissed, affrighted, as she backed away from the glazing, her eyes flying about her room in dismay.

⭐️