Chapter 6 - The Effects of Scarlet and Wild Geraniums

A number of readers have asked me why Lord Orthod and Lord Sterne were unacquainted? Wasn't there some social function that they met before?

Ans: Girls in boarding schools in those days did not have parents visiting them. Parents, especially aristocratic ones usually sent servants and a carriage to pick up their children from boarding school at the end of the semester. They had no interaction with any of the teachers. Parents were informed of their children's progress by the principal's office. If you reread the chapter. Sterne explictly states, "Seeing how, you're a squib who only begun your collaboration with the state during the war." I'm sure you can join the dots from here. Moreover, in Chapter 1, we are told that Orthod is a private man, very much so. Now, on with the chapter.

As this is a Regency story, there is bound to be some AU-ness and OOC-ness. Please bear with me. Emphases are in italics and titles of books &ca are underlined. This story places great stress on the significance and meanings of flowers.

Language of Flowers

Chapter 6 – The Effects of Scarlet and Wild Geraniums

"Neville!" screeched the shrill voice of a plump valetudinarian, silencing the breakfast table at Fluxweed House at Berkeley Square. "Don't slouch! Remove your elbows from the table. I will not have you behaving in front of me in that slovenly manner so early in the morning."

"I am tired, Grandmamma," explained the contrite man of the cloth without obeying the old lady in all her injunctions. "I have had only four hours of sleep. The conditions in the workhouses are truly ghastly."

Hearing his mother harrumph indignantly at the young man's words, Lord Fluxweed hastened to add, "He's just a lad, Mother; don't be too harsh on him. Look at him – bless my heart – dark circles under the eyes and constant exposure to the squalor of the city, administering to his flock at Chelsea and Portsmouth; it is little wonder he..."

The aged Lady Fluxweed silenced her eldest son with a snort and a testy stomp of her foot. "Speak for yourself, Horace! You were the fool who dangled him out a window to see if he was a squib!"

Casting her eye on the middling figure, half-closed eyes of her mild-mannered grandson, Lady Fluxweed privately owned herself delighted that the wars had made Neville into a better man. He had been a mousey child until his fifteenth year, and by the time he left Hogwarts for Cambridge, he was almost as dashing a figure as his father. Upon graduating from Cambridge, he embarked on a military career and was made Captain after the civil wars. On obtaining that promotion, he learned that he would have to be posted to the Spanish peninsula; as such, he tendered his resignation. Though she was a little disappointed at his decision not to follow the drum (and further distinguish himself in uniform), she could not help smiling slightly at the recollection of his filial regard for her. He told her that he had no desire to leave her unattended. And here the lad is now – with the church as his profession! Her reverie was shattered by the sounds of a ringing cup balancing imperfectly on a saucer. "I'm not saying the boy has no pluck, Horace," she railed at her son, "I'm saying he ought to have more table manners! What will his parishioners say if they saw their vicar slouching at the table nibbling at his buttered toast!"

"That I am a simple man, quite like them," replied the young Reverend.

"Where are you off to today?" enquired his only uncle.

"Two of the Duchess of Offaly's charities, the Weasley Foundling Home and the Weasley Ladies' Reformatory."

"Well," began the redoubtable matriarch, heaving her equally formidable bosom in indignation. "You are heir to the earldom. Instead of being a gentleman, you chuse to endanger yourself by descending to the bowels of the city and assisting the filth!"

"There are many people suffering in the world, Grandmamma," answered Neville in a quietly determined voice. "I have taken Orders and I must help humanity. Just because we are well-to-do does not mean we can pretend the unfortunates of society do not exist."

The Earl looked proudly at his nephew and then with some unease at his mother who surprised him by giving a hoot of laughter. Dabbing her eyes with her napkin, she murmured with great feeling, "How like your father you are now! Isn't he, Horace?"

His lordship quickly agreed with his mother.

"We could all visit papa and mamma at the Bedlam branch of St Mungo's tomorrow, grandmamma; and you can call on one of your friends after," suggested Neville, as he finished his coffee.

Taking a teary look in her eyes as a mark of assent, the Reverend Mr Longbottom kissed his grandmother on the cheek, saluted his uncle with a nod and left to spread the goodwill of humanity to his flock.

A day begun on this note was instantly set up to inspire other similarly noble sentiments in the minds of the young clergyman's friends. Indeed, the day was so kind as to bestow him the company of his school fellows, Sir Harry Potter and Lord Ronald Weasley. These two notable whips of the ton accosted Neville outside the Weasley Foundling Home.

"Oh ho!" cried the redhead as he ran his fingers through his windswept hair. Neville laughed to see him toss his reins carelessly to his tiger.

"Good day, Ron," he began. "Harry!" he continued, waving to be bespectacled baronet with the blowsy hair.

"Shame you didn't come with us!" Sir Harry said with visible excitement. "Ron's Chudley Cannons are improving under his rigorous training! Divine intervention, do you think?"

The Reverend merely laughed and received the two gentlemen's friendly claps to his back.

"Ron's team looks set to upset all the gamesters this season," continued Sir Harry merrily, as he linked arms with Neville. To his surprise, he felt his friend stiffen.

"Do you mean to say you two have been gaming?" asked Neville in a mixture of disapproval and disappointment. "Ron can ill afford it as it is. Do you want to ruin your father? What His Grace must think!"

Harry allayed his friend's fear as the vicar opened the door to his office at the Foundling Home. "Not us, Neville. People are betting on Ron's Chudley Cannons."

"If people contributed more money to worthy causes such as foundling homes, orphanages, workhouses, reformatories and the like, the city would be a better place! I honestly don't see what good gambling does other than frittering away one's fortune and bringing debt and ruination to one's family," Neville averred earnestly, as he walked along the corridor on his morning rounds. "Don't you two go down this path! It is very difficult to stay away from the hells once you've started."

"Lord!" cried Ron with a hearty guffaw. "You sound an awful lot like 'Mione, Neville, so upright and proper!"

Sir Harry stifled a chortle. "But...But he means well," said the baronet in between near hysterical laughter. Realising somewhat belatedly that they were making a fool of themselves, abusing Neville's good nature, annoying the head matron of the Home and possibly even frightening the children, the two young gentlemen sobered up and very soon acquired looks matching that the colour of their fine grey coats.

"Besides, Neville, it isn't me Father ought to be worried for – it's Percy."

"Oh?" murmured the clergyman with interest.

"A scholarship at Balliol and look at him now – a ruddy dandy, that's what!"

"Language, Ron! Not in front of the children!" cautioned Sir Harry, as he reminded all present of their location.

"He studied the law, yet he will not take it up as a profession," continued Lord Ronald vehemently, colouring as much as his hair. "He won't go into the church because he says it is not smart enough for him. It does not care that it is the dearest wish of his parents. He is barred from politics due to his involvement on Lord Voldemort's side in the war. He won't join the navy because he claims the rough sea air will spoil his complexion. And he now declares the army too smart a profession for him. He even presumes to tell me that my career in sporting Quidditch is a failure! Ha! I'm the one with an independent income the last time I checked! Then stupider yet, he wants to join the Barouche Club!* Wants to race Harry and me! Ridiculous, Harry and me, we do it for the thrill of the race not for money. But not Percy – money runs in his head like a fine Spanish gelding. I don't see how he can fancy himself a Corinthian!** He's nothing more than a dandy. What's worse is that since he's become a regular dandy he thinks he's too good to acknowledge my mother – our mother – on the streets. Not satisfied with disappointing the family, he's even turned to gaming. It is common knowledge that he's living with his current slip of muslin and visits all the fashionable gaming hells. He's such a greek in his methods that he's even managed to part a Malfoy from his money!"

"Stuff!" laughed Sir Harry on hearing the last portion of his friend's tirade. "Lord Villiers is quite a cardsharper himself."

"Much like his father, the Duke of Mallefille," rejoined the young Reverend dryly. "But if Lord Percy has descended to such levels and has greeked Lord Villiers, he is beyond sense."

"That is a brilliant thought," remarked Lord Ronald. "Perhaps he is beyond salvation too, eh, Neville?"

He received no reply because Mr Longbottom and Sir Harry were then engaged in playing with three very young children. Grinning sheepishly at the sentimental scene, he allowed himself to be drawn into memories of his happy childhood. "Poor ruddy children," he sniffed, holding back his tears.

Fortune, however, had long favoured Lord Ronald and as such she prevented his tears from staining his freckled cheeks. She chose that moment to direct the entrance of a group of soberly clad young ladies. As all but two were veiled, he could not initially discern the veiled ones from each other. While the presence of the two abigails, Millicent Bulstrode and Lavender Brown told him that he was in the presence of his sister and Miss Granger, he chose not to exercise his mind in speculating on the ladies' identities. It did not matter that one was dressed in aquamarine, another in charcoal grey and the last in pale maroon with a matching peacock plume bonnet. How could young Lord Ronald pay attention to ladies who had seemed so familiar to him when Bulstrode's gentle charms and simple manners presented themselves. Now, there's a fallen woman turned good, thought his lordship, even if she has eyes like a hawk.

Neville stood up at the sight of the ladies who were surrounded by children. The young ones were clearly excitable. All but the one in grey lavished caresses on the children. Neville immediately approached that figure with a "My dear Miss Granger, how do you do."

After extracting her greetings to the rest of the company, Miss Granger instructed Brown to distribute the toys and sweets that they had brought. "Heavens, Ron! You are insupportable! Stop gaping at Luna's bonnet. She's all the crack! Peacock plumes have only just started to replace ostrich feathers."

Sir Harry laughed in response at Lord Ronald's silent and puzzled look. Replying to the lady in the same tone of ironic levity, he said, "I thought ladies only reserved feathers for court."

"Or was it Hessians for court?" answered Miss Granger in her best imitation of Lord Percy. Her excellent impersonation drew laughter from all present.

"That's a big quiz of a hat, Miss Lovegood," said Lord Ronald belatedly, as Neville murmured something about determining how Brown and Bulstrode were coping with life outside the Reformatory.

"My Lord, is that an insult to my taste?" quipped Miss Lovegood with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I could also remark that your collar is worn much too high. And unless I am mistaken, you are presently unable to turn your head properly."

"That's only Percy," protested Lord Ronald, laughing a little uneasily. "Not with your abigail, I see."

"I have two friends to escort me. Or do you think I have – what was it you shouted at Hermione the other day? Oh yes, a show of conceited independence?"

"Oh no!"

"Then explain why I am apparently praised for my eccentricities and Hermione is censured for hers."

At Miss Lovegood's blithe comment, both Sir Harry and Lady Ginevra shot Lord Ronald dangerous looks of warning for they could sense he was about to make a terrible social gaffe. Not one to disappoint, Lord Ronald told the party that the disparity of opinion towards Miss Granger and Miss Lovegood was due to their difference in beauty. "Hell! Stuff! I shouldn't have said it was because Miss Lovegood was pretty!" he blustered.

"We all know what you mean, Ron. You are among friends, no one will reproach you," answered Miss Granger coldly, before she engaged Sir Harry in conversation.

Miss Lovegood arrested his attempts to pacify Hermione with a firm shake of her head and noted that Neville was discussing something very earnestly with Bulstrode and that Lady Ginevra was playing with some of the children.

Amidst this bustle of activity, Lord Sterne and Lord Villiers sauntered in arm-in-arm.

"Remember, Draco, you are my secretary for a week; that is the dues for this favour. You know how I despise children. Smelly little things!" he said disdainfully. "There is the object you seek, among her other worshippers."

The Reverend very soon stepped forward to greet the newcomers after a final smile at Bulstrode. "My lords, this is an honour," he said, quivering slightly before Lord Sterne.

Severus was saved from more of Neville's commonplace platitudes by Sir Harry and a gaggle of children who needed the clergyman. Sensing a kindred spirit in Miss Granger who evidently held herself aloof from the children, he paid his respects to her and enquired after her father. Instead of answering his questions, Miss Granger directed him to sit beside her with a careless wave of her hand and said with some annoyance, "It is about time you arrived with Lord Villiers. This is only the first assignation they had and I am tired of all the planning already."

Surprised but intrigued by her brusque tone and forthright manner, he feigned ignorance. "What do you mean, Miss Granger?"

"Your godson, Lord Villiers, informed me that you had given him some advice."

His disinterested expression remained fixed on his face. "I have."

"Why did you advise him to turn to me?"

"Because of your friendship with the lady, or was that too obvious?"

"Has the besotted young man considered other factors?"

Sterne raised a brow in sardonic humour. He had not considered other factors and wondered as to Miss Granger's analysis on these other features. "Such as?"

Miss Granger smiled indulgently at her abigail as she watched her rescue Sir Harry from playing mule of labour to the children. "Lady Ginevra has only ₤2000 at five percents. Her roots are Irish and two of her older brothers have caused a scandal by leaving Hogwarts and entering trade."

"He is aware of the material shortcomings of her family," he answered plainly, while staring at Draco's offer of a mignonette to Lady Ginevra.

"And?"

"We had called on their establishment at Gracechurch Street earlier today."

"Did they throw him out?" she asked tonelessly.

Struck by her blunt manner, Sterne smirked and answered, "Lord George and Lord Frederick behaved more civilly than their younger brother would have were he in the same circumstance. They took the news of Draco's intent very well."

"Ah," Miss Granger replied with a knowing smile. "Then they subjected him to an agreement and made him eat a canary cream."

"Which he did willingly – in an attempt to prove his sincerity."

"All this to satisfy the stirrings of his loins?"

"Sorry, Miss Granger?" murmured Sterne, hoping that he had misheard her indelicately expressed opinion.

"Is it not plain? I wonder if he will regard her like a trophy and use her cruelly upon marriage because of her family's situation."

"Unlikely," said Lord Sterne, scowling at a child that dared approach him. "She is as formidable as her mother and I will personally join Lord George and Lord Frederick in tearing him limb from limb if he adopts any dastardly manner. He is not unlike his father, Mallefille."

"I cannot comment as I do have the pleasure of the Duke's acquaintance."

"No, he is presently in France."

"I know."

A pregnant pause fell between them, until she laughed. He looked askance at her curiously. "Lord Villiers blushed," she laughed, inclining her head forward at the scene she had witnessed. "All because of a mercury from her bonnet. He's too far-gone in love then. I commend you on your godson, Lord Sterne, he is an apt pupil."

"He had a harsh taskmaster," he replied coldly in a slow drawl. "You only gave him two days with the book on flowers."

"Do not reproach me," she said testily.

"I am not reproachful." He curled his lips in contempt at the sight of Draco taking a turn with Lady Ginevra in the garden. "At least, he is not as mercenary as Lord Ronald."

"Don't you mean Lord Percy?"

"They could be the same in one respect."

She snorted lightly in scorn. "I would believe Percy of it. Ron is too impulsive to consider such an ignoble option. Why do you think he wants to court Luna, Miss Lovegood, for her money?"

"Why not?" he purred in conspiratorially, glaring at her.

"I know Ron, and he is a helpless romantic," she said torn between indignation with Lord Sterne and with Lord Ronald's behaviour. Turning her attention to her friends once again, she continued, "It would be the match of the season because she is intelligent and rich, and he is handsome."

"Him?" asked the Marquess impassively, masking his incredulity.

"He is generally thought to be."

Lord Sterne snorted and turned to glance at the vicar who was heard audibly discussing a doctrinal tract with Bulstrode. Both Miss Granger and Lord Sterne noted the brilliance of Bulstrode's eyes as she patted a quiet child at her knee while discussing the book. Unbeknownst to Miss Granger, Sterne could be certain that there was something familiar about the dark brows and hair of the Bulstrode girl. He could have sworn that he had previously encountered those deep-set eyes, yet he had prior to the present day, never met her. Abruptly, he turned away from the intimate almost domestic scene and noticed that he had caught Miss Granger's satirical gaze intently examining him. Meeting her eyes with a hint of a challenge, he felt a flicker of something more than intelligence in this young woman. He was about to comment on Mr Longbottom and Bulstrode when Hermione broke their eye contact, leaving him to swallow his possibly rude observation. Despite the aborted observation, Severus was certain that Miss Granger was indeed a spirited young woman.

"They are innocent in spite of everything," she uttered finally, inclining her head in the direction of the clergyman and the former ballet dancer, as Sir Harry came up to her.

"We're all going to Gunter's to buy ices for the children, want to come, Hermione?" he chatted excitedly. "All of us except Villiers. He wants to write to his father." Sir Harry made a grimace of displeasure at the thought of writing a letter to the Duke of Mallefille. "Just as well, don't you think? Must say your Brown is a good sort. But I expect she's this good with children because she's from the Foundling Home herself."

"I see I mustn't detain you," said Sterne, suddenly rising and beckoning to Villiers. "Good day, Miss Granger." And without bidding goodbye to anyone else, he hurried out of the Foundling Home where he was soon joined by his dawdling godson.

While apparating to Malfoy House with his godson, Severus wondered as to the nature of Draco's letter. What did he want to report to his father? He could not make any further speculation because the Duchess met them at the door with her arms akimbo. Her pale blond locks piled on her head in the manner of the previous century and her clothes could best be described as tastefully dishabille. Looking down at her son with her icy blue eyes, she asked sharply, "Young Goyle told me you were seen with the Weasley piece today, is that true? Oh, hello, Sterne."

Sterne smirked and bowed slightly at the abrupt change in her tone.

"Yes," replied the young man coolly, pushing past his slim mother and removing his gloves and hat. "She was escorting Miss Granger. Surely, Mother, you don't want me to ruin her reputation!"

"Is that true, Sterne?" she asked, her voice almost shrill with suspicion.

"Indeed, Duchess," answered Lord Sterne as if it was the most prosaic thing in the world. He then realised the reason behind Draco's decision to write to the Duke of Mallefille; he was the only person who could manage his wife.

"Oh," she said placidly, reclining on the sofa again. "That's all right then. Your father would be pleased with the money and the name the Granger girl would bring to the match."

"Yes, Mother," said the young man blandly as he mended his pen.

"Tell him I miss him. Remember to send him the clocked stockings that I made for him. It will keep him warm."

"Yes, Mother." On finishing the completed letter, Villiers gave Sterne the letter and its accompanying package with a meaningful look that the older man interpreted as an indication to leave before the Duchess demanded to read the letter. Thus, Lord Sterne said his goodbyes and proceeded to carry out his task.

Footnotes:

Readers, you will notice that the title of the chapter contains the name of flowers/plants. This is significant to understanding the plot. While some of you may be familiar with the language of flowers, I beg you to allow for differences in interpretation. Some flowers/plants have one meaning during the time of the Regency and another during the Victorian era. My guess is that those of you familiar with this language are acquainted with the Victorian interpretation rather than the Regency one.

Naturally, there is also a deeper meaning beyond that of the flowers. What it is – I leave it to you to uncover.

(1) Scarlet Geranium means "comforting presence".

See it here http://buy.overstock.com/images/products/L953126.jpg

It has been traditionally used to treat depression, menstrual Problems, diarrhoea, diabetes, sores, neuralgia, bleeding, circulatory conditions, Sore throats, nervous tension and kidney stones.

(2) Wild Geranium stands for "steadfast piety".

For more information on it, refer to http://www.innogize.com/wildflowers/geranium.htm

(3) Mignonette means "your qualities surpass your charms".

See it http://lachlan.bluehaze.com.au/spring2000/21maya2000/21may050.jpg. Its flowers come in white, yellow, orange or green, with four to six petals. Plain looking, it is cultivated for its use in the perfume industry because its flowers are extremely fragrant. In Roman times, the mignonette was used to treat bruises.

(4) Mercury stands for "goodness".

See it at http://british-wild-flowers.co.uk/M-Flowers/Mercury,%20Annual.htm. The Mercury plant has many uses. In the old days, people ate mercury leaves as an emetic. They would boil it (as you would spinach) because the poison in the leaves was allegedly destroyed through heat. The whole plant, and especially the juice, is emetic, emollient and purgative. It is used externally to treat women's menstrual complaints, ear and eye problems, warts and sores. By the High Middle Ages, mercury was used to treat rheumatism, dropsy, diarrhoea and disorders of the gall bladder and liver. Ironically, it is a common weed in Britain and flourishes in the light.

(5) The earldom of Fluxweed, is named after another plant. Fluxweed stands for "sporting", as in fair and honourable. Quite apt for the Longbottoms, don't you think? See it here http://www.magdalin.com/herbal/images/thumbs/flxweed1.jpg.

What little I know of Fluxweed comes from Culpepper's 1652 work, The Complete Herbal. In case the link doesn't work, let me describe the fluxweed to you. It rises up with a round upright hard stalk, four or five feet high, spread into sundry branches, whereon grow many greyish green leaves, very finely cut and severed into a number of short and almost round parts. The flowers are very small and yellow, growing spike fashion, after which come small long pods, with small yellowish seed in them. The root is long and woody, perishing every year. There is another sort of it with broader leaves, but has a certain foul smell and dry taste. They flower and seed quickly in June and July. They flower wild in the fields by hedge-sides and highways, and among rubbish and other places. Culpepper says this about the fluxweed and I quite from the original text, "This herb is saturnine also. Both the herb and seed of Flux-weed is of excellent use to stay the flux or lask of the belly, being drank in water wherein gads of steel heated have been often quenched; and is no less effectual for the same purpose than Plantain or Comfrey, and to restrain any other flux of blood in man or woman, as also to consolidate bones broken or out of joint. The juice thereof drank in wine, or the decoction of the herb drank, doth kill the worms in the stomach or belly, or the worms that grow in putrid and filthy ulcers, and made into a salve doth quickly heal all old sores, how foul or malignant soever they be. The distilled water of the herb works the same effect, although somewhat weaker, yet it is a fair medicine, and more acceptable to be taken. It is called Flux-weed because it cures the flux, and for its uniting broken bones, &c. Paracelsus extol it to the skies. It is uniting broken bones, &c. Paracelsus extols it to the skies. It is fitting that syrup, ointment, and plaisters of it were kept in your house."

(6) The term "tiger" in Regency times referred to the chap who accompanied you and helped managed your horses when you were out driving or riding. He is also your trusted carriage/curricle (fill in vehicle of choice) driver on those rare days when you are not driving. If you watch period dramas, these are the fellows behind your curricle, carriage or whatever it is. A tiger is MORE THAN a footman. Your tiger would be a liveried groom, generally small, generally young. An owner-driven curricle or phaeton typically had a groom's seat between the springs on which the tiger sat. The single-horse cabriolet had a platform at the rear on which the tiger stood. He also managed the horses when his master ascended to or descended from the seat, and sometimes took the reins to exercise the horses while his master temporarily left the vehicle. A small, lightweight tiger was preferred in order to maintain the proper balance. In fact, it was something of a status symbol to have the smallest possible tiger.

Since some of my readers are curious as to vehicles of the day, here are some vehicles of choice...

Spring and perch barouche

http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b14/mmestrange/Springandperchbarouche.jpg

An open landau

http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b14/mmestrange/landauopen.jpg

A closed landau

http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b14/mmestrange/landau.jpg

A fashionable phaeton

http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b14/mmestrange/georgeivphaeton.gif

A gig (usually one horse)

http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b14/mmestrange/stanhope-gig-driven-web.jpg

A phaeton

http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b14/mmestrange/phaeton.jpg

A high perch phaeton

http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b14/mmestrange/highperchphaeton.jpg

A curricle with a tiger

http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b14/mmestrange/curricle.jpg

A coach and four [horses]

http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b14/mmestrange/coachandfour.jpg

*(7) The Barouche Club that Ron mentions is one of the names of the Four-Horse Club, a real club in Regency London. In this story, Harry and Ron are members of this club. Originally one of the clubs frequented by the notorious Earl of Barrymore, the Four-Horse club had been a wild group of young men who enjoyed bribing coachmen to give them the reins to the vehicles and then driving them at break-neck speeds along the very poor British Roads. By the early 19th century it was a respectable club for superb drivers. At its peak it only had some 30-40 members. It was often also called the Four-in-Hand Club, the Whip Club or the Barouche Club - the last from a description in "The Sporting Magazine" of February 1809. Club rules stated the barouches should be yellow bodied with 'dickies', the horses should be Bays, with rosettes at their heads and the harnesses should be silver-mounted. However Mr Annesley – a club member, drove roans, Sir Henry Peyton drove Greys so the colour of the horses wasn't as strictly enforced as the colour of the carriage.

The uniform of the club was strictly enforced. Whenever its members met or raced with one another, they must each wear a drab coat that reached to the ankles with three tiers of pockets and mother of pearl buttons as large as five shilling pieces. The waistcoat was blue with yellow stripes an inch wide, the breeches of plush with strings and rosettes to each knee. It was fashionable that the hat should be 3 and 1/2 inches deep in the crown.

The first meeting of the Four-Horse club was held in April 1808 and subsequent days of meeting were the first and third Thursdays in May and June. The members assemble at Mr Buxton's house in Cavendish Square and drove to Salt Hill to dinner at the Windmill first and then the next time at The Castle alternating between the two. There was rather a long complicated time when the club could not decide which hostelry to provide give their full membership too and alternated until the matter was decided by the Windmill on one broiling hot day. The cloth had been cleared and the wine placed before them when a waiter entered and asked each man to rise, the chair was removed and cool one put in its place. This attention to detail decided the Four-Horse club in its favour.

The procession was always the same. Club rules stated that each member in single file, no overtaking was allowed, and no one to exceed a trot. The procession set out from London to Salt Hill at noon, following along the Bath Road. It was 24 miles to Salt Hill so the club lunched at the Packhorse on Turnham Green and then took further refreshment at the Magpies on Hounslow Heath. They ran to Salt Hill where they remained overnight.

There popularity of the Four-Horse club began to wane around 1815 and it was disbanded in 1820. It was revived briefly in 1822 and finally died out in 1824. The Four-in-Hand club was another driving club completely which was not established until 1856. It based on the old rules of the BDC or Bensington Driving Club. The BDC was the great rival of the Four-Horse Club during the Regency era.

** (8) A Corinthian is a fashionable man about town, generally a sportsman.

(9) In Regency cant, 'to greek' is to cheat. The phrase "greeking methods" is deployed when one wants to say that a fellow has been cheating at cards. It is spelt with a lower case 'g'.

(10) Hessians is an abbreviation for Hessian boots worn by gentlemen. Hessians is a style of man's riding boot that is calf-length in the back and curves up in front to a point just below the knee, from which point hangs a tassel. To see what it looks like, please refer to this fashion plate http://www.pemberley.com/janeinfo/brummell.jpg. It is generally made of black leather and the boots sometimes had a narrow border at the top in a different colour, e.g. white-topped Hessians.

(11) Clocked stockings refer to stockings that have embroidered designs on them. They were very popular amongst fashionable men and women between the 1720s-1790s.

(12) "Stuff!" was a very popular minor swear word in Regency England. It started out as a vulgar expression in the 1750s, but gradually became quite mild and mainstream by the 1790s-1805.

(13) When I say "abigail" here, I mean lady's maid. In this case, the term is always spelt with a lower case 'a'. The task of such a person was to dress her mistress, style her hair and chaperone her mistress around town or in company. A lady would always call her abigail by her last name/surname only. This is the etiquette and I have kept to it. Ironically, the title and the name "Abigail" is Hebrew for "father rejoiced" – why is this ironic? You will see why when I reveal Millicent Bulstrode's parentage...

(14) Neville lives with his grandmother and uncle at Berkeley Square. Berkeley Square is a very fashionable and expensive neighbourhood. This square was built upon the gardens of Devonshire House. Lansdowne House stands on the North side of the square. Berkeley's associations have always been aristocratic. It was named for Lord Berkeley of Stratton, a Royalist commander in the Civil War. The Square was laid out in 1730's; the north end of the Square was left open to preserve the view from Berkeley House (later Devonshire House). Thirty large Maples were planted in the central garden in 1789.

(15) You may have noticed that I mentioned Harry was going to get "ices" at "Gunter's". Gunter's Tea Shop was a real place in Regency London situated at 7-8 Berkeley Square. Founded in 1757 by an Italian pastry-cook, Domenico Negri, Gunter's specialised in the "making and selling all sorts of English, French, and Italian wet and dry sweetmeats". The shop sign was a pineapple. Pineapples were the usual emblem of 18th Century confectioners. Negri took James Gunter into partnership in 1777, and by 1799 Gunter was running the business as sole proprietor. His shop, centred on the east side of Berkeley Square, and soon became a fashionable Mayfair rendezvous.

The beau monde flocked there to eat his ices and sorbets. The custom grew up that the ices were enjoyed, not in the shop, but outside in the Square itself. The ladies would remain in their carriages in the shade of the Maples. Gentlemen leaned against the railings sharing their company and the ices. For many years when it was 'not done' for a lady to be seen alone with a gentleman in a place of refreshment, it was perfectly respectable for them to be seen at Gunter's. The beau monde were served in the Square. The waiters dodged across the road taking and carrying their orders.

(16) Hell is the abbreviated name for "gaming hell". A gaming hell is a gambling establishment. It's kind of like a casino without all the neon lights and loud music. A young "pigeon" was more likely to fall victim to a dishonourable "shark" at a hell than at an elite gentleman's club.

(17) Ton, for those of you who are unfamiliar with the Regency/Empire period means fashionable Society, or the fashion. It originates from the French bon ton, meaning good form, i.e. good manners, good breeding, etc. A person could be a member of the ton, attend ton events, or be said to have good ton (or bad ton). Ton can be interchangeably used with beau monde. In this story, when I spell society with a capital S (i.e. Society), I am referring to the ton.

(18) It goes without saying that whenever a gentleman or lady of the ton (you don't have to be titled to be one of ton, you have to be of genteel birth – that's enough) goes out riding and driving, he/she will be always be accompanied by a groom. If one goes riding, one's groom will follow at a respectful distance away to give you some privacy. Should the master/mistress stop at a place to have tea after riding, the groom would be obliged to hire a private parlour for him/her to rest and take refreshment. While the master/mistress is in the private parlour, the groom takes himself to the stables and rest and to await his master/mistress's orders. If one is driving (the type of vehicle be it curricle, gig or whatever is immaterial), one can either have a groom or tiger. Whether you have a groom or tiger depends on how fashionable or how rich or how eccentric you are. The groom and/or tiger will be at the back of vehicle in a box. If your vehicle has no groom/tiger box or spare driver seat, you have a groom who follows you at a respectful distance away to give you some privacy. However, by 1818, it was all right for members of both sexes to drive a phaeton or a high perch phaeton without a tiger or groom in attendance provided one was at the famous promenade areas to be seen by other ton members. Some really eccentric heirs and heiress could be tolerated by Society if they were to drive/ride alone. They were tolerated because of their birth (especially if they were from aristocratic families famed for a touch of madness and/or eccentricity) and money. Keep this in mind, it will become significant in a later chapter.

(19) 'All the crack' is Regency cant for being very fashionable. The modern equivalent is 'all the rage'.