A Scandal in Battersea (Elemental Masters #12)(2)
In the interval between acts, much to Suki’s joy, his Lordship bought them all refreshments, which were served to them by a girl in a black and white uniform, as elegant as Princes and Princesses. It all made Nan feel quite pampered, and Suki beamed.
And when Aladdin had triumphed, rescued his Princess (who had been given a very pretty selection of numbers to dance), and all the bows were taken, there was even a semiprivate staircase down to where the carriage was waiting. But of course, since they were in a private box, with no need to clear the way for others, they stayed a little while longer, waiting for the crowds to make their way to the street before they took their leisurely way down.
When they left the theater it was snowing, which made the shelter of the carriage all the more welcome. From the dark gray of the sky, the snow wasn’t going to end any time soon, either. When they had all piled into the carriage, and Nan had enclosed Suki in the shared warmth of her splendid sable cloak, the snow began to come down rather heavily. “Do you still want to look at shop windows, Suki?” Mary Watson asked the little girl with some concern. “That snow is getting deep.”
Suki stuck her little feet in their smart, red boots out from under the shelter of Nan’s sable cloak, and frowned thoughtfully. “I jes’ got these boots,” she observed. “I druther not ruint ’em.”
“Well then,” Alderscroft said, “I propose a nice drive through the Park instead of going directly there. And perhaps once we are at Harrod’s, we can drive past the shop windows slowly enough to enjoy them without leaving the carriage. I very much doubt there will be many window-shoppers between us and the display today.”
Nan moved so that Suki could sit next to the window to look out while the rest of the group chatted. Or rather they chatted, while Nan sat quietly, listening. She, Suki, and Sarah sat facing backward in the plush carriage, while his Lordship took one window seat and John Watson took the other, with Mary between them. While Suki gazed with great satisfaction at everything she could see from her window, Sarah, his Lordship, and the Watsons discussed rumblings and stirrings in both the occult and Elemental Magic circles of London. Once, when John Watson spotted a hot chestnut seller, his Lordship stopped the carriage and had the coachman get nuts for them all, including himself. Including the coachman in the warming treat would never have occurred to the old Lord Alderscroft—and probably wouldn’t have occurred to one in a thousand other wealthy men.
Lord Alderscroft looked like exactly what he was—at least in part. A titled and very wealthy peer, with a seat in the House of Lords and more than one property at his disposal. Unlike many men of his wealth, he did not allow himself to run to fat; his elegant clothing fit well on the body of a vigorous man of late middle age, and if he wore his sandy hair a bit longer than was strictly conventional, well, he was a nobleman, and noblemen were allowed their little eccentricities. The cane he carried was a formidable weapon, with a weighted, solid silver pommel, and doubled as a wizard’s staff of sorts—because he was, after all, the Wizard of London, in charge of the White Lodge of London Elemental Masters and Magicians, and held the magical safety of a great deal of Britain in his capable hands. Like the gentleman he was, he wore a modest top hat—not one of the towering pieces of parvenu vanity that made small, naughty boys ache to throw a snowball at it—and a long, soft black wool coat over his black suit. John Watson wore his gray coachman’s bowler and, over his second-best suit, a dark gray coat that was equal in length but a good bit more worn than Lord Alderscroft’s. Mary was enveloped in a sable cloak like Nan’s and Sarah’s; all three were the gifts of a grateful opera diva. Little Suki did not have a sable cloak, but Lord Alderscroft had equipped her—over the girls’ objections—with a black astrakhan cloak of her very own—much more practical for a little girl than fur.
Suki, having had little more than rags to wear before the girls rescued her, was quite the little fashion plate now and took a great deal of pride in looking like the illustration in a Kate Greenaway book. Today she was wearing an adorable brand-new military-style polonaise and skirt, both in red velvet and trimmed with gold braid, which went perfectly with her little red Hungarian boots. The outfit set off her dusky complexion and shining, curly black hair to such a good effect that she looked like a perfect little doll. This outfit was also a gift from Lord Alderscroft, who was perpetually amused at her innocent sartorial vanity and took every chance Nan and Sarah would give him to indulge her in it—and frequently “surprised” her with gifts before they could object.
Nan and Sarah had each worn the Christmas gowns that Lord Alderscroft presented them with every year. Nan’s was a deep garnet velvet, Sarah’s a midnight blue. Both of them were styled in the rather eclectic manner of the Aesthetic Movement, which borrowed liberally from nearly every medieval and Renaissance fashion possible. Such gowns would probably have raised eyebrows in more conventional circles. But given that they generally only wore such things in the presence of his Lordship or within his social group, such eccentricities were not only forgiven, but expected. Nan thought that this year’s gowns were very likely the best ever. Sarah’s sapphire gown complimented her blond hair and blue eyes so well she looked like a Christmas angel in a pageant. And while Nan was privately of the opinion that nothing save an entire change of heads would ever make her look beautiful, she rather fancied that in this garnet-colored gown she looked a bit handsome.