Page 19 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

‘Miss Jane!’ Edward shouted with glee as she climbed up into the carriage, darting forward off the seat where he sat with his uncle and into her arms. ‘We’re going to see the horses and the acrobats. Zio Tom said there are trapeze artists and tightrope walkers.’

‘How wonderful,’ Jane said, laughing as she got caught up in the young boy’s enthusiasm. ‘I have never seen a tightrope walker before.’

‘Good afternoon,’ Mr Stewart said, lifting his hat as Lucy stepped up.

‘This is my dear friend, Mrs Lucy Weyman,’ Jane said quickly. ‘This is Mr Stewart and his nephew Edward.’

‘Lovely to meet you,’ Lucy said as she took her seat, grabbing hold of Jane as she almost overbalanced as the carriage started to move away.

The streets were busy on the journey to Lambeth, even more so as they approached Astley’s amphitheatre. Jane craned her head out of the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the theatre, awed by the size of the building they were approaching. The crowd was all heading in the same direction and there was a buzz of excitement and anticipation for the afternoon’s entertainment.

Once their carriage finally found a spot to pull over to allow them to disembark, Mr Stewart hopped down and offered his hand to Jane, Lucy and finally Edward.

‘Keep your coin purse hidden and anything of value secure,’ Mr Stewart said as a merry group of women jostled past them. ‘It is not quite the same clientele as you get at the opera.’

Mr Stewart seemed unperturbed by the mixed group of people flooding along the pavement and joining the queue to get into the theatre. Jane remembered her encounter with him in Southwark and wondered if his life in pursuit of pleasure took him to other less salubrious areas of the city.

They joined the queue, Mr Stewart paying for the tickets and leading them up the stairs to a box that overlooked the circular level stage.

Already there was a man juggling brightly coloured balls as he walked around in a circle, every so often doing a high throw or spinning before he caught the balls and continued. Edward’s eyes fixed onto the juggler immediately and he was smiling by the time he had taken his seat.

‘Have you been here before, Mr Stewart?’ Jane asked as he courteously helped her arrange her chair so she could see well.

‘Yes, many times. I had a hankering to be a horseman when I was a boy. Whenever we were in town, my sister and I would always sneak off and come to watch the show.’

Jane caught the hint of sadness in his voice at the mention of his sister.

‘Did you never decide to pursue it as a career?’

‘Actually, I did, although in the only way that was open to me. I was in the cavalry division in the army.’

‘Did you serve for a long time?’

‘Six years. Then I was injured and it took me a long time to recover.’

Jane looked at him with interest. He had no outwardly visible evidence of a bad injury. He didn’t limp or walk with a stick, like many of the men who returned from war. There was no scarring on his face or his hands, and he moved quickly, agilely. She desperately wanted to know what happened to him but knew it was rude to ask outright.

Fidgeting, she tried to focus on something else.

‘You can ask me,’ Mr Stewart said as he leaned in closer. Jane felt the heat of his body as his arm brushed against hers for a second. ‘I can see you want to.’

She’d always thought she wasn’t that easy to read, and the idea of this man being able to tell what she was thinking by a quick glance at her expression or posture was unsettling.

‘How were you injured?’

‘I was thrown from my horse and trampled by the rest of the regiment.’

‘Surely you couldn’t survive that?’

‘I was very lucky.’ He flashed her a smile, ‘Or extremely unlucky, whatever way you look at it. I was bed-bound for nine months, and they tell me unconscious for the first few weeks of that.’

‘Nine months!’ she exclaimed, and the people in the next box turned to look at her.

‘It’s a long time, isn’t it? At least, that’s what I’m told. To me it seemed like only a few minutes had passed. The days blurred into one. I think there was an element of delirium.’

There were so many questions Jane wanted to ask. It was incredible to think he had survived such a grievous injury and she wondered if that had influenced his desire to live to indulge his pleasures.

Mr Stewart chuckled at her expression. ‘This is why I don’t tell anyone. Their reactions vary from disbelief to pity.’