Better Than Byron

A Disagreeable Discovery and a Trip to Vauxhall Gardens

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What a strange thing man is; and what a stranger thing woman.

-Lord Byron

Tilly was ravished with the new silk bonnet that her doting sister presented her with as a truce – it spoke louder than Margaret's kind words of forgiveness.

"My dearest Meg!" she sighed, embracing her. "I knew you would be the first to declare a ceasefire!" Something annoyed Margaret in what she said, but she decided not to stir more disaccord between them as she had a peacemaker's inclination towards muteness and on occasion, passive aggression.

"So," she mumbled on a different note. "Shall you accompany me to Codway?"

"Perhaps," she said, fitting the fine bonnet on her dark head and admiring herself in the looking glass over the side-table with Margaret's personal reserve of spirits. Tilly had often been remarked as the beauty of the family, but Margaret had been praised for her good sense and her subtle English loveliness – and that was quite enough to satisfy her, for she abhorred flattery; it inspired the dizziest feeling of discomfort in her. "If I go, I want you to come into Town with me before we set off into the country."

"That sounds like a reasonable request," she shrugged. "I will take you up and down Oxford Street, we shall shop in Bond Street, and entertain ourselves in Vauxhall Gardens. The admittance fee is three-and-sixpence, but the amusements provided are well worth it. What do you say, Tilly? Shall we make a day of it?"

Tilly's face brightened, but just as precipitously darkened. "Will Mr. Thurlow be joining us? Because I must tell you that his manners deeply unsettle me."

"Tilly, do not say such things!" she scoffed, nervously fingering the ebony cross at her throat. She was beginning to feel her fragile mask of conventionality cracking. She was losing sight of her place in the world. "He is a good man, however eccentric he may be. We must make allowances for him out of respect. He is, after all, my employer. Besides, you forget that it would not be proper for two young and unmarried ladies to go to such a public place without a chaperone or an escort."

"Yes, but is Mr. Thurlow a married man? No! To go out with a bachelor is even more improper, Margaret – really, where is your head today? I would be utterly ashamed to be seen with him!" She gave her sister a sidelong glance, expecting an echo of the statement, but Margaret did not humour her.

"If that is the issue," she said, surveying the flickering flames in the parlour hearth. "I have only to make an appeal to our cousin Edmund to accompany us."

"Oh, Meggy!" Tilly cried out in excitement. "You brilliant slave driver!" Margaret frowned at her sister's offhanded insult. "I am ashamed that I did not think of such a scheme myself. I must say, both our heads are elsewhere today. Well, why do we not call on Edmund tomorrow to make the appeal? I am sure he will be pleased!"

"Do what you must," Margaret mumbled, poking the fire with the tongs.

"I really wonder at you, Meggy! You keep such a stern face when stern faces are out of place. I won't just sit here and have it, so I'm off, you tight-lipped oppressor."

"Where to?"

"Outside!"

"Outside where?"

"Oh, the gardens! I've too much energy to keep indoors. I must exhaust myself. That is what Lady Barlow does when she has an excess of vivacity. Well, that, and taunt her husband."