as how you’ve been ill.’
Lizzie flushed with pleasure to think her adored Joseph had actually talked about her to his best friend.
‘Well, see here,’ Luke went on heartily, ‘Joseph and I were thinking of taking a little stroll just over Westminster Bridge tonight and wondered if you would like to take the air with us. May as well take that dog along. It’s one way of making sure the mistress and Mr Rainbird give Joseph permission.’
‘Oh, I would love to go,’ said Lizzie, beginning to tremble with excitement. ‘D’ye think Mrs Middleton will let me go, Joseph?’
Joseph frowned, thinking Lizzie was getting above herself. He liked her to call him ‘Mr Joseph’ in front of Luke.
‘Matters will be arranged,’ said Joseph loftily. He moved off with Luke, and Lizzie followed behind, leading Beauty.
Miss Metcalf was delighted when Rainbird appeared before her to request permission that Lizzie and Joseph should be allowed time off that evening to take the air and to walk Beauty. Harriet had secured tickets for the play-house for herself and the girls. She always felt guilty about having a pet such as Beauty and could only be glad that these town servants appeared to have accepted the dog’s existence without question. Much as she longed to take Beauty for walks herself, she did not want to bring the censure of the
ton
down upon her head and therefore spoil Annabelle’s and Sarah’s chances of a successful Season.
And Beauty was a peculiar-looking pet. The aristocracy kept monkeys, parrots, or pugs as pets, for in these harsh times only the very rich could afford the luxury of being sentimental about animals. Dogs such as Beauty were meant to earn their keep by either ratting or turning a spit. Not wanting to be damned as eccentric, Harriet tried most of the time to hide her real love for the animal.
Lizzie dressed in her best gown and brushed her hair until she had nearly restored it to its usual shiny lustre. She tied up her tresses with one much-prized scarlet silk ribbon and polished the tin buckles on her shoes. But so great was her excitement that a hectic colour rose in her cheeks and she nearly burst into tears when Alice, Jenny, and Mrs Middleton started to debate the wisdom of her going out at all.
But soon the magic moment actually arrived and she was out in Clarges Street flanked by Luke and Joseph, surely, thought Lizzie proudly, two of the most handsome men in London.
To her surprise, Luke led the way down to the mews at the bottom of Clarges Street. He said Joseph had suggested they hire a gig for an hour, as Lizzie might find a walk too much in her frail condition, and Lizzie looked up at Joseph with eyes like stars, amazed that her hero should go to so much trouble to look after her.
No sooner were they in Lambeth Mews than Beauty took exception to the horse when it was being harnessed to the gig and tried to savage it. Luke cried to Joseph to hold Beauty, and, whipping out a piece of thin rope, bound up the dog’s jaws.
‘Must you do that?’ cried Lizzie. ‘He looks so distressed.’ Lizzie did not care much for animals one way or another. She petted the kitchen cat because it was Joseph’s, but fondness for animals was a sophisticated luxury she could not afford. The Moocher earned his keep by being a mouser par excellence. A dog such as Beauty, who lolled around doing nothing, was a disgrace. But Lizzie adored the gentle and sweet Miss Metcalf, and there was something almost human about the panic in Beauty’s wildly rolling little eyes.
Beauty was thrown on the floor of the gig. Lizzie sat beside Joseph and Luke sat in front, holding the reins.
Lizzie began to feel a twinge of unease. Both Luke and Joseph smelled strongly of spirits and had a strung-up air about them. They appeared to have forgotten that the outing was in her honour, and when Luke swung the gig round into Piccadilly and Lizzie was thrown against Joseph’s shoulder, the footman pushed her roughly
Lizzie flushed with pleasure to think her adored Joseph had actually talked about her to his best friend.
‘Well, see here,’ Luke went on heartily, ‘Joseph and I were thinking of taking a little stroll just over Westminster Bridge tonight and wondered if you would like to take the air with us. May as well take that dog along. It’s one way of making sure the mistress and Mr Rainbird give Joseph permission.’
‘Oh, I would love to go,’ said Lizzie, beginning to tremble with excitement. ‘D’ye think Mrs Middleton will let me go, Joseph?’
Joseph frowned, thinking Lizzie was getting above herself. He liked her to call him ‘Mr Joseph’ in front of Luke.
‘Matters will be arranged,’ said Joseph loftily. He moved off with Luke, and Lizzie followed behind, leading Beauty.
Miss Metcalf was delighted when Rainbird appeared before her to request permission that Lizzie and Joseph should be allowed time off that evening to take the air and to walk Beauty. Harriet had secured tickets for the play-house for herself and the girls. She always felt guilty about having a pet such as Beauty and could only be glad that these town servants appeared to have accepted the dog’s existence without question. Much as she longed to take Beauty for walks herself, she did not want to bring the censure of the
ton
down upon her head and therefore spoil Annabelle’s and Sarah’s chances of a successful Season.
And Beauty was a peculiar-looking pet. The aristocracy kept monkeys, parrots, or pugs as pets, for in these harsh times only the very rich could afford the luxury of being sentimental about animals. Dogs such as Beauty were meant to earn their keep by either ratting or turning a spit. Not wanting to be damned as eccentric, Harriet tried most of the time to hide her real love for the animal.
Lizzie dressed in her best gown and brushed her hair until she had nearly restored it to its usual shiny lustre. She tied up her tresses with one much-prized scarlet silk ribbon and polished the tin buckles on her shoes. But so great was her excitement that a hectic colour rose in her cheeks and she nearly burst into tears when Alice, Jenny, and Mrs Middleton started to debate the wisdom of her going out at all.
But soon the magic moment actually arrived and she was out in Clarges Street flanked by Luke and Joseph, surely, thought Lizzie proudly, two of the most handsome men in London.
To her surprise, Luke led the way down to the mews at the bottom of Clarges Street. He said Joseph had suggested they hire a gig for an hour, as Lizzie might find a walk too much in her frail condition, and Lizzie looked up at Joseph with eyes like stars, amazed that her hero should go to so much trouble to look after her.
No sooner were they in Lambeth Mews than Beauty took exception to the horse when it was being harnessed to the gig and tried to savage it. Luke cried to Joseph to hold Beauty, and, whipping out a piece of thin rope, bound up the dog’s jaws.
‘Must you do that?’ cried Lizzie. ‘He looks so distressed.’ Lizzie did not care much for animals one way or another. She petted the kitchen cat because it was Joseph’s, but fondness for animals was a sophisticated luxury she could not afford. The Moocher earned his keep by being a mouser par excellence. A dog such as Beauty, who lolled around doing nothing, was a disgrace. But Lizzie adored the gentle and sweet Miss Metcalf, and there was something almost human about the panic in Beauty’s wildly rolling little eyes.
Beauty was thrown on the floor of the gig. Lizzie sat beside Joseph and Luke sat in front, holding the reins.
Lizzie began to feel a twinge of unease. Both Luke and Joseph smelled strongly of spirits and had a strung-up air about them. They appeared to have forgotten that the outing was in her honour, and when Luke swung the gig round into Piccadilly and Lizzie was thrown against Joseph’s shoulder, the footman pushed her roughly
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