1816: the Grandest Tour

Prologue 2

Everyone rushed forward in alarm, but despite his pitiful groans the fallen man was unhurt. He hadn't been more than twenty-five feet up and landed on his ponderous backside. A few suspicious onlookers now searched for the culprit, and the young gentlemen knew it was time to edge away. They managed this with ease, as the crowd had grown very large once the Austrian ascended his pole. Breaking free of the bewildered throng they re-formed and struck out for less populated climes.

"Let's have another round," said Robert, "this publican here ain't served us yet."

He was referring to an apron-clad man under a tent some yards ahead of them. The man stood between a temporary wooden bar and several draft barrels of ale at his rear. George, Hugh, and Tobias first begged a chance to relieve themselves behind a bush. That done, they emerged back under the light of the newfangled gas lanterns, happy to go replenish their store of liquid bad-judgment. But as they traipsed over the grass to the source of ale, a shrill voice called out from somewhere off to the right.

"That's him!"

At first none of the four reacted. While it was growing late, several dozen people were still milling around that part of the gardens, so they blithely assumed no involvement in the matter. That all changed when a burly man's hand shot out, grabbing the flabbergasted Hugh by his shoulder.

"Oy!" cried he, "What do you mean by this!"

The others whirled around to see an ill-shaven man in a battered coachman's top hat, easily two sizes too broad for his head. Beside him was a young woman whose brightly-painted face, if not her dowdy dress, advertised her trade plainly enough to the world.

"It's him, Ned, I swear it is!" said the woman.

"Madame I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking of," said Hugh with rising indignation.

"You toffs all say summing like that," said the man called Ned with a sneer. He kept a firm grip on Hugh's sleeve as the gentleman's friends rallied around him.

"Look here, sir," said George. "What's this about? I'm sure you've confused my friend with someone else."

"No I hain't confused nuffing," said the woman, talking rapidly, "it's him what met me, here two weeks agone. We went outside the gardens, and afterwards this fine gen'leman done a runner wivout payin' me a farving!"

George turned to his friend with a concerned look. Hugh had been known to run out on debts to certain tradesmen – banking on the credit of his future inheritance. But ladies of the evening among the list?

"Of course it's not true!" Hugh snapped in reply to George's face. "This tart is obviously deranged. Unhand me you ruffian!"

"Oh no, sir," said Ned, "my Jenny gets what she's owed."

The two groups eyed each other in tense silence. Then Robert spoke:

"Don't know the girl, eh Hugh?"

"Never seen her before in my life!" he said, though George noted the fact that Hugh hadn't looked straight at the woman even once since she'd appeared.

"Well that's settled," said Robert, taking a step forward. He reached out and tugged Ned's too-big hat down over his face.

"Follow me, lads!" he barked, and broke straight for the garden gates.

This time they were pursued only by Jenny's shrieks of anger, as she and Ned fruitlessly tried to yank the hat off. Though somewhat galling, the noise was not enough to arrest the young men's progress, and the four soon found themselves panting in the street. Plenty of cabs were waiting in front of the statue-decorated garden entrance, and in a mere fillip the friends had crowded into a hackney coach and were trotting along to the bridge north to Pimlico.