Chapter 8 - Planting Belladonna

Released this chapter early for my readers - Merry X'mas one and all!

Answering Readers' Email Queries

About the waltz in ch 7

Some readers have emailed me regarding the waltz in the previous chapter. Two readers asked me why allowed a waltz (a supposed 'fast' dance) at a Name Day soiree. Another three asked, 'Wouldn't a waltz mean that a couple would be dancing for a long time together in close proximity? Wouldn't that be scandalous for the time?' Another lot asked, 'wouldn't that mean the couple would be alone for a long time?' Technically, a whole bunch of people waltz together. You see – the ballroom is a large place and many couples can dance there. If you must know the waltz became fashionable BY 1814 and was permitted at all kinds of private parties. This story is set AFTER 1814 when the waltz was perfectly acceptable and country reels were thought as 'unfashionable'. Unless you wanted to be seen as dowd, you waltzed. At that time, there was a craze for all things German and the waltz was all the crack! The only place where the waltz was not danced was Almack's. At Almack's, there were no strong alcoholic drinks, the gambling stakes are low (so low that the gamesters hated it), and only Scottish reels and country dances were permitted. The patronesses at Almack's were strict and to be seen as Almack's was a greater privilege than to be seen at court. It was impossibly difficult to get a voucher (dispensed by the 4 haughty patronesses); once the patronesses decided that they didn't like you, your title (even if you had one) wouldn't help you AT ALL and fashionable society will regard you as a pariah. However, even the 4 haughty patronesses allowed the waltz after Wellington returned from Belgium later in 1814. So there, the Waltz was not indecent and not fast.

About Hermione's behaviour

Several readers complained that the Miss Granger is constantly described as responding in 'chilling tones', 'coldly', 'coolly', &ca and told me that she was OOC. If you had read the disclaimer, you would know so. However, Hermione's behaviour will be perfectly understandable after this explanation. Being seen talking enthusiastically (by this – I mean smiling, bright eyes, lots of laughing, talking and amusement) to a man whom one has only passing acquaintance, an unattached female of that Regency era would be seen as 'fast'. A Fast woman – for readers who do not know and do not read my footnotes, means 'a loose woman' or a 'cheap woman'. Why would a woman doing so be looked on as 'fast'? Because she would be interpreted as to have encouraged a man's dishonourable intentions towards her. This is the reason why Hermione makes the 'Carte-blanche' statement in ch 7. She fears that she has appeared 'fast' to Severus – hence the hauteur is more chilling than usual – little does she know, he is intrigued by it. Hermione is neither cheap nor loose. She may be eccentric and cares little for the opinions of society, but she knows that once her reputation is ruined – that is it for her. Furthermore, it is mentioned in ch 1 that Hermione has always been reclusive; she is not inclined to mingle. Also, if you had read the preface and were paying attention to the plot so far, you will know that Hermione has a secret she does not want ANYONE to know (her papa knows, but that's it). It is also hinted that she despises the social whirl. Reread ch 1 to get a feel of what my Hermione is supposed to be in the story; even her friends don't understand her – she can't talk enthusiastically to them about anything because they wouldn't understand her and would think her mad (cf to ch 1 where Society says madness is the blood of her family – and all this because she is a bluestocking). Society has always been uncharitable to her family (cf. ch 1 for society's view of Lord and Lady Orthod) Being 'chilling', 'cold', 'cool' &ca is her way of insulating herself from society and all those who do not understand her or her ideals – and there are many such fools running around.

About Ridcules

Many readers have pointed out what they believe to be a spelling error. "Why do you say ridicule when it is obvious you mean reticule? Do you even have a beta?" I was asked. First, I do not take to readers insinuating that my betas did not do their jobs. Secondly, I am most put out! How many times must I tell you! I put down extensive footnotes for this story to avoid these sort of questions that I am presently answering. I haven't all the time in the world to reply to each and every email asking me about phaetons, cartwheels (which is slang for a guinea), what is Rundel and Bridges (a jewellery house), ridicules and a housewife (a sewing roll – like a jewellery roll, but for sewing.). My betas did not understand what I wrote and based on their queries, I came up with the footnotes. It is not to make you – my reader – feel nor look stupid – far from it! I just want to avoid the sort of unpleasantness that arises if I get bombarded with emails. Now, back to the reticule/ridicule question. If you had read the footnotes to ch 7, you will note that footnote (8) explicitly states, 'Between the years 1780-1820, the little bag/purse thing that ladies carried was called a ridicule. It was only in 1820-1860s that it was called a reticule. I have kept the old-fashioned spelling in this plot. Why was it called a ridicule? Because it seemed a ridiculous notion in the late 18th/early 19th century to carry outside the dress those personal belongings formerly kept in large pockets beneath the dress. When waists rose and skirts narrowed, bulky pockets could no longer be accommodated without spoiling the line of the dress, and so the ridicule became an essential accessory. The term "reticule" seems to have come into use around the mid-19th century.'

Now, on with the story...

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.

Journal article within the text of this chapter – may be annoying to readers. Extensive footnotes follow the chapter. Readers who are antipathetic to them and who are resistant to the esoteric style of my journal articles have been warned. Lest you think you can skip the article, let me inform you now: Careful reading of the journal article AND careful rereading of HG and SS's conversation in Ch 7 will reveal much to you.

Language of Flowers

Chapter 8 – Planting Belladonna

Lord Sterne could not silence the portion of his disquieted mind that Miss Granger was not all she seemed. Her poise and elegance lent her dressmaker an unnecessary and unworthy credit, but her mind was something completely her own. In that respect, she was exactly like Lady Potter. He paused in mid-thought, reflecting on the reasons for these unwarranted comparisons between the two women. Nothing but idle inclination, he told himself – idle inclination and desire for the impossible. With a darkened mood on his own vacillation between the two ladies, he contemplated on Miss Granger's guillotine tongue. She did not possess that weapon when he had known her as a student at Garswoth. He leaned back into his pillows and sipped his thick unsweetened coffee, as he unconsciously played with the discarded newspaper on his pale green bed-sheet. The chit and her father did present an interesting puzzle to the Marquess's eye, as did the issue of the strange familiarity of Miss Bulstrode's look. Since the latter issue was easier to resolve, he turned his attention to it.

Undoubtedly, the abigail was a better success as a singer than a dancer. Though her station was humble, her origins did not appear so. She had that commanding air of someone he once knew when he was caught in the web of deceit and lies woven by the departed Lord Voldemort. Then, on recalling the look on Narcissa Mallefille's face and that brooch on Bulstrode's throat, he knew he had it – she was a Lestrange by blood. The brooch was the portrait of the last Lord Lestrange's mother in her first bloom. Those who had discerned the brooch (and the lounging alchemist was certain that not many had) would have been subject to his scrutiny of the lady in question. She had the same dark heavy brows and hawkish deep-set eyes of the Lestranges. In fact, her resemblance to the miniature on the brooch was uncanny. She certainly possessed that jet-black hair of the father and Lord Sterne did not doubt that the Duchess of Mallefille had observed that the young woman had a look about her that marked her as a Lestrange. Evidently, one of old Lestrange's by-blows, thought Stern with a smirk of self-satisfaction. Ironic, deliciously ironic! The Lestranges had no heirs and if it came out that Lord Villiers had an affaire court with his cousin without marrying her, there would be widespread scandal! One did not ruin ladies of genteel birth, however dubious the circumstances of their entry into the world. His godson's carte-blanche with Millicent Bulstrode (who had taken her mother's name) would constitute as a pre-contract. It would effectively bar his chances of matrimony with any other woman, unless Miss Bulstrode herself decided to cry off. Sterne traced his lips in thought – it was an interesting development after all. It was a fortunate thing that the on-dit columns have nothing on the matter. If any of its columnists were at the Duke of Sanguine's soiree, they would have surely unearthed the truth, and the Mallefille line and all connected with them would be ruined. He wondered if Miss Granger had suspected the same...

Ah, Miss Granger, he thought, unconsciously tracing his lips with his finger. Now, here was a true puzzle. Lord Sterne ran his mind back to the Baron Orthod's behaviour at Black's and the young lady's comments at the Sanguine ball for Lady Minerva's name-day four days ago. There had to be some sort of connexion, he thought. Setting down his cup of coffee, he redirected his attention to the morning newspapers. He frowned upon lighting his eyes on the society pages. The news was too mundane and could have been uncovered by any fool who plied drink and money to the rattles who had a foot in the ton. Frustrated with the lack of political news, he flung the paper aside violently. It was too suspicious for the on-dit columns to be completely silent for four days. If there was no news, the "humble" columnist would cough up some fabrication to scandalise the matchmaking mammas of society. The on-dit columnist was far too silent and the Marquess did not like it. Although he disapproved of the news it presented, he could always extract the grain of truth from the embellished articles. This silence, however, was deafening and he was struck with a sense of foreboding. He did not like waiting for something disastrous to happen. He did not enjoy the sight of innocents suffering from ruined reputations because of malicious lies and hurtful gossip. Drumming his fingers lightly on his lips, he found himself unable to suppress a distinct sensation that the columnist, a certain Miss Skeeter, was presently engaged in a large exposé, which would unjustly ruin some respectable person. He would not allow that minor detail to perturb him. He had better things with which to occupy his mind. He had to pay a morning call on Miss Granger and chaperone the young people on a brisk ride in the Ranelagh Gardens. He wrinkled his nose and curled his lips in scorn; he did not wish to play nursemaid to Draco and the Weasley girl, but self-preservation meant that he persisted in dressing himself and presenting himself at Lord Orthod's residence.

On his arrival, Sterne was surprised to hear raised voices within the Orthod household. He had always observed that the father and daughter were a fairly united couple and appeared to be the sorts who would amiably discuss their differences. As the butler ushered him into the drawing room, he was pleased to observe that his surmises were correct. The cause of the slight contention within the otherwise peaceful household lay with the other morning callers – in the forms of Sir Harry Potter and his loyal companion, Lord Ronald Weasley. Miss Granger, he could see, was in a chestnut coloured riding habit and violently brandishing her crop at the two younger men.

From his vantage point in the early morning shadows, Lord Sterne could see that Lord Ronald was gesticulating wildly, in the vain hope that he was proving a point. "You cannot go out with Ginny accompanied by the greasy git!" he yelled.

"I have an appointment and I shall keep it," reasoned the spirited young lady as she turned to a mirror to pin a veil to her hat. After scooping up her riding train in her other arm, she addressed her father, "Please tell them to leave."

"Well, my dear," said Lord Orthod, "they are your friends."

"You cannot go out and subject Ginny to his company," reasoned Sir Harry in a pleading accents. "Villiers has an unfortunate reputation! How do you know Sterne will not abet him?"

Severus chose that moment to reveal himself to the company. "Ah, I see Lord Sterne is here. We shall both leave you now and call on the Duke and Duchess for Ginny," announced Miss Granger brusquely.

"Impossible, dear child, you cannot go without a chaperone," protested the Baron weakly.

His daughter's eyes glittered dangerously as she shrank the writing tablet containing some of her papers and placed them in her riding ridicule. "I go around with Harry and Ron unchaperoned too and you have not such a comment. Enough, Father! I am leaving for my appointment!"

Sir Harry and Lord Ronald looked to the delicate looking Lord Orthod for support in vain. He could only smile and say that his daughter had inherited his wife's spirit.

As she stormed off with an amused Lord Sterne, the two younger men instantly appointed themselves her guardians and hurried to catch up with the departing couple.

"We'll come along too!" declared Lord Ronald stoutly. "Just to see that you're safe."

"What I am?" Miss Granger vehemently snapped. "A Queen? Why do I have this escort? Don't put your nose where it does not belong!"

"We're worried about you," explained Sir Harry, mounting his steed.

"Oh?" she laughed ironically. "Unless I am much mistaken, I believe you have designs on my abigail and I should fear for her shattered virtue. How do I know you won't use her as Lord Villiers did!"

"Miss Granger, Villiers will be at the Park in fifteen minutes," reminded the Marquess, as he scowled at the lads.

"Shut up, Sterne, no one asked you!" interjected Lord Ronald.

Raising a finger at the young man, my Lord Sterne levitated the interlocutor from his gelding and kept him hovering in the air. "It is my business, Lord Ronald," he said silkily in a dangerous low tone. "You had better pay more attention to your quarry, lest your brother claim it."

"Oi, Harry," shouted the levitated young man, "what did he mean by that?"

Sir Harry only gave a hoot of laughter and ignored his friend for the moment. "Come on, Hermione, let's go find Ginny and play billiards or have a picnic. It will cool Ron off."

Severus glared at the bespectacled young man. "As for you, Potter," he spat quietly. "Miss Granger is not one of your precious pieces of muslin that you can order about." Then, with a sharp snap of his fingers, he released Lord Ronald from the levitating spell and apparated himself, Miss Granger and both their horses to the Offaly residence, leaving Sir Harry to assist Lord Ronald in picking himself up from the dirt track.

"I'm sorry about Ron," said Miss Granger on their arrival at the Offaly residence, when they related the morning's occurrence to her.

Sterne dismounted to help Lady Ginevra up her mare before replying, "I quite understand. He's a boorish cub with the soul of a farmer."

Hermione's laughter at the aptly expressed observation led Lady Ginevra to enquire after the person of their discussion. When the personage's identity was revealed to her, she rolled her eyes with a brilliant smile. "Ron always assumes he acts for the best interests of his friends and family, but he never realises that his impulses only result in trouble. His obstinacy is to blame."

"His prejudice is a likelier culprit," opined the spirited Miss Granger, surreptitiously examining her friend's outdated moss green riding habit.

"We all have our prejudices, ladies," reminded Sterne coolly, as he reflected on his past and the way fickle society regarded him from year to year. "It is a matter of whether we allow it to cloud our judgement."

"Wise words, Lord Sterne," commended the lady on his right, as she tipped her hat slightly to acknowledge a rapidly approaching figure. "I see, Lord Villiers has decided to be punctual for once. I'll leave you in the care of your tiger and Lord Sterne, Ginny. I have some business of my father's to execute. You'll find me at the usual watering hole in about an hour."

Before anyone could question her, she reined in her chestnut mare and galloped off. Sterne arched a brow in deep thought as he reluctantly played the role of chaperone. He had not heard Lord Orthod entreating his daughter to perform a task for him in town. What was Miss Granger's business that she required complete privacy? Lady Ginevra, he noted, did not find her friend's behaviour amiss. When questioned, the strawberry blonde beauty would only say that they were to meet Miss Granger in an hour at 'The Temple of the Muses' and its adjoining tea room. The more he thought on the matter, the more it perplexed it and as he did not like things without a definite answer, he quickly came to a resolution. Instructing the young couple to restrict their exercise to the mounds of the Park's woody areas so that they would not be observed by any idle gossips, Severus left for Black's after promising to meet the party at The Temple of the Muses.

On entering Black's, he immediately made his way to the Diogenes reading room and checked whether the latest copies of Ars Chemica were delivered to the club. Satisfied that they were delivered there that very morning, he picked up one of the copies and methodologically sought for a section. He had only just acquired his personal copy by post the previous evening and had read several articles of interest. However, he had a theory on a certain matter and he desperately needed to refresh his memory from his reading the previous night. Nodding to Lupin who looked up from his crossword puzzle, Severus rapidly turned the pages of the journal to the article by Hiero Gravitas entitled Mathematical and Philosophical Roots of Flower Extracts: A Platonic Derivation.

It read:

In his seminal article on the neglected study of plant extracts in potions making, Severus Snape revived the classical tradition of philosophy and alchemy. While this is all very well, he chooses the Aristotelian method by removing the mathematical poetics from the art. I posit that the Aristotelian view deviates from the traditional theory and as such, cannot be fully transplanted wholly into the modern context.

Is it a plausible programme? My own view is that the historical development of mathematical potions suggests that it is not. There certainly is an aesthetic dimension to the way many mathematical alchemists (such as Snape), particularly those who work in certain areas of 'pure mathematical alchemy', conceptualise their discipline. However, I am inclined to think that the aesthetic value that they discern is very much discipline-specific. While it may well be true that there is a sense in which a mathematical alchemist such as Severus Snape has a beautiful symmetry, it does not follow that his mind's creations are therefore kalos kai agathos, "noble and good," either in the Platonic or some other, more common sense? Pythagoreanising Platonism must confront the negative answer that I–and, I think, most of us–are inclined to give.

~||~

After his second reread of the article, Lord Sterne could not help but frown in slight perturbation. "So, that's it," he murmured to himself. Everything now appeared clear to him. At least the pieces of the puzzle fit into a coherent sphere. Rushing out of Black's amidst Lord Percy's narration as to his abilities to marry money, Severus made his way to Lackington's Temple of the Muses.

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) Belladonna means "hush" and "silence". Belladonna's most famous other name, 'deadly nightshade' is drawn from knowledge of its narcotic and ultimately poisonous properties. Other names for it are 'devil's cherries', 'naughty man's cherries' and 'devil's herb'. In herbal remedies, belladonna was used as a sedative. Europeans in the dark ages (especially the priests and priestesses) used to take belladonna to produce prophetic powers or to contact the spirit world. Italian ladies of the renaissance used to apply tiny drops of belladonna juice to their eyes so as to enlarge the pupils, believing that this gave them greater brilliance. View the belladonna here http://perso.wanadoo.fr/choisy/fleurs/dessinsf/atropa%20belladonna.jpg and

http://www.giftinfo.uni-ainz.de/Italiano/images/pflanzen/Atropa_belladonna_Tollk_3.gif

(2) Hiero Gravitas' article in Ars Chemica is not to be taken too seriously. Remove all the potions bit and it would explain to you the theory of forms in the Platonic works. If the article is ghastly, I apologise. All my beats and prelim readers didn't get this – Severus figures out what he does because a certain young lady was careless in her speech and replicated some part of her article when speaking to him, please cf. to the previous chapter.

There is another meaning in the article, I leave it to you to figure it out.

(3) Some readers may ask me why I refer to Narcissa as Narcissa Mallefille in this chapter, please refer to the section on correct forms of address in the preface/introduction.

(4) Affaire court (pronounced ef-fair coo) means "short fling" or "short romantic liaison" in French – it was popular phrase between the years 1780-1820.

(5) Hermione goes off to write in 'The Temple of the Muses'. Towards the end of the chapter, Severus thinks of it as 'Lackington's Temple of the Muses'. This was a real bookshop in Regency London. Not as famous as Hatchard's, but in those days – it was the Borders of the town. It sold books, manuscripts, music sheets. Like its modern contemporary, Borders, The Temple of the Muses had a café where customers can have refreshment. The wealthier customers could have private parlours where they could eat and do their own work and whatnot (it was a haven for writers with nowhere to write).

From 1778 to 1798, James Lackington, the bookseller, had a shop at No. 32, Finsbury Place South in the southeast corner of Finsbury Square called "The Temple of the Muses". The shop had a frontage of 140 feet and was one of the sights of London. On top of the building was a dome with a flagpole, which flew a flag when Mr Lackington was in residence. In the middle of the shop was a huge circular counter around which, it was said, a coach and six could have been driven, so large were the premises. A wide staircase led to the "lounging rooms" and the first of a series of galleries with bookshelves. The books became shabbier and cheaper as one ascended. This, the first large book emporium was the pioneer of Remaindering, buying up bulk stock from elsewhere at a bargain price and selling cheap. Every one of the thousands of books in the shop was marked with its lowest price and numbered according to a printed catalogue. In 1792, Lackington estimated his profits for the year to be about £5000. At this period, he issued more than three thousand catalogues ("A Catalogue of Books, in All Languages, and Classes of Learning, for the Years 1806-7, Now Selling for Ready Money, at the Low Prices Affixed, Warranted Complete, by Lackington, Allen, & Co. Temple of the Muses, Finsbury Square, London.") every year. In 1793 Lackington sold a fourth part of his business to Robert Allen who had been brought up in the shop. The firm of Lackington, Allen and Co. became one of the largest in the book trade, selling upwards of 100,000 volumes yearly at their very extensive premises.

Lackington issued promotional tokens with a facing bust of the proprietor (this design, which was not particularly successful, yielded place to a more orthodox profile portrait in 1795). The reverse design, used with minor modifications in both years was a figure of Fame blowing a trumpet, proclaiming Lackington's firm the cheapest booksellers in the world. The edges of these tokens usually bore advice as to redemption, on several varieties, payment was guaranteed at the "Temple of the Muses". After Lackington's retirement, his nephew continued the store. Later in the early 1800s the bookstore was sold to Jones and Company for distribution of their books and other works. The shop burned down in 1841.

(6) Writing tablets were very fashionable then among the pedants. Often a gentleman's item, I have endowed Hermione with it. It was a small silver case containing a tablet and matching pencil was handy for jotting down appointments or the name of a hot tip at Newmarket (where you go to see the horse races). The case and pencil might be inlayed with dyed ivory or mother of pearl.

(7) Between the years 1780-1820, the little bag/purse thing that ladies carried was called a ridicule. It was only in 1820-1860s that it was called a reticule. I have kept the old-fashioned spelling in this plot. Why was called a ridicule? Because it seemed a ridiculous notion in the late 18th/early 19th century to carry outside the dress those personal belongings formerly kept in large pockets beneath the dress. When waists rose and skirts narrowed, bulky pockets could no longer be accommodated without spoiling the line of the dress, and so the ridicule became an essential accessory. Riding reticules were made for ladies so that their purses would match their riding outfits.

(8) 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.

(9) "Carte-blanche" is Regency cant for an offer by a gentleman that includes living under his protection, but not marriage. In short, it is an offer to be installed as the gentleman's mistress.

(10) "By-blows" is one of the many Regency slang phrases for illegitimate children.

(11) "Pieces of muslin" is one of the many Regency slang phrases for women of easy virtue, or mistresses that one keeps.

(12) 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...

(13) Ranelagh gardens adjoining the Pensioners hospital became popular as a place to escape the city and take in the cleaner air in Chelsea. Balls, concerts, dinners and of course gossip were shared here almost daily. It quickly exceeded Vauxhall in popularity, but its popularity waned until the season of 1804 when the fashionable set abandoned it entirely. I chose this park for Ginny and Draco's rendezvous because it is unfashionable.

(14) 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.

(15) On-dit is French for "we tell". In the context of Regency speech, it meant gossip about the town that is usually published in the newspapers.

(16) There were many clubs in London during the Regency period. The oldest and most famous of these was White's. But within this story, I have renamed White's. I call it Black's (after Sirius Black). If you are curious as to name of Black's and these sorts of gentlemen's clubs, read on. I have modelled Black's heavily after White's.

White's can be found at 37-38 St James's Street. It was founded – 1736. White's is the oldest club in London, growing out of White's Chocolate House which opened in 1698. The building burnt down in 1733 and so the club moved a few doors up St James's Street and then to its current location around 1755. It was sometime around 1736 or just after that it established as a club and included among its membership of the time such great personages as the Duke of Devonshire, Earl of Rockingham, Bubb Doddington and Sir John Cope.

There was such a clamour for membership that by 1745 it was decided that a second club would be established under the same roof, and this was called the 'Young Club'. The original group were called the 'Old Club'. Vacancies in the Old Club were filled by members of the Young Club. It wasn't until around 1780/81 that the unwieldy system of administration between the two clubs was amalgamated. In Regency times, it faced its great rival, Brookes's, across St James's Street and while it was regarded as a Tory club. This distinction meant little in practice as gentlemen were generally members of both. It was one of the few clubs that set itself up with premises of its own. White's, like Brookes's had restricted admission, with members being elected. It was remarked that no man was refused entry who "ties a good knot in his handkerchief, keeps his hands out of his breeches pockets, and says nothing." White's is most famous for its Bay Window which was built in 1811 and quickly became the preserve of Brummell and his friends. Other noted members who frequented White's, and the notorious bow-window, were Lord Alvanely, the Duke of Argyll, Lord Worcester, Lord Foley and Lord Sefton.

Whist had been voted a dull game by the members and deep gambling was made in hazard, faro and other games of pure chance. The betting book, like the one at Brookes's, was always open on the table for bets of the most trivial nature to be laid at any time.

(17) 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.