I spent the rest of the week in anticipation of Friday. My good friend Charlie, The Honorable Charles Hengrave, would be coming. I was also looking forward to Pedro's music, which I admit I did enjoy, and Miss Royal's story which by the sound of it was much more to my taste than the Latin books my tutor made me read. The only problem was that the Marchmonts would be there too. I never liked them but our fathers were friends, so we had spent many torturous hours together.

As Charlie and I stood in the corner of the room waiting for the rest of the guests to arrive I told him about my plans to get Miss Royal to give us a tour of the theater.

"What a splendid idea!" He said, "Would we be able to use the props or costumes?"

"I don't know, but I was rather hoping they would let us ride in the hot air balloon." I said.

The door was opened and Joseph, our footman announced the Marchmonts. I groaned and walked slowly to the door to greet them. Marzi-pain Marchmont, as Charlie and I so fondly called him, seemed just as unhappy being there as I was. Lizzie was busy with her friends so it was up to me to entertain them. As politely as I could, I led them to some seats and prepared myself for the painful task of talking nicely to them. At last there was a knock at the door. I looked up expectantly. Joseph stood there hesitantly then finally spoke, "There are two young people here. They say that they are from Drury Lane and that you are expecting them, Lady Elizabeth."

"Oh, yes. Please show them in." Lizzie said.

I nearly sighed with relief but stopped myself just in time. Within moments the door was opened again and Joseph coughed, then announced, "Lady Elizabeth, your visitors have arrived: Miss Royal and Mr. Hawkins." They stepped into the room and Joseph quickly closed the door behind them. I was surprised by how nice Miss Royal looked. With her hair brushed and pulled back and wearing a nice, though not very fashionable, dress. Lizzie had risen to her feet and was now greeting them.

"Miss Royal, Mr. Hawkins, we are delighted to see you both." She said.

I used this as an opportunity to escape and nearly ran over to them.

"Just when we needed living up! Who's to go first, eh?" I asked.

Pedro bowed and said, "I am to have that pleasure."

Miss Royal looked at Pedro with an amused expression and a smile. I was still trying to figure out why when Pedro began to play. He played a piece by Mozart beautifully and when he finished everyone, including the Marchmonts, applauded him. I looked at Miss Royal who was now looking extremely nervous. Taking her hand and leading her to a seat I said, "Now, Miss Royal, it is your turn. We are most eager to hear from you."

"If you wish, sir," she said as she unfolded her papers. With a nervous cough and a deep breath she began, "Reader, you are set to embark on an adventure told by an ignorant and predjudiced author—me."

I couldn't help but laugh at her introduction and Charlie, obviously feeling the same, joined me. Miss Royal looked up quickly and Lizzie gave her an encouraging smile. She continued to read, "'Much harm done Tom?' I asked as I clambered over the upturned benches to reach the stagehand as he cleared away the debris from last night's riot…" She continued on for ten minutes telling stories of gangs fighting in the streets and treasures hidden in the theater, showing us the illustrations as she went. I had never heard stories like the ones she told and I was immediately overcome by the urge to see these things for myself. When she finished, the room was silent. One of Lizzie's friends broke the silence, "Heavens!" she said, "To think that people really live like this! Fighting in the streets—can you believe it!"

Miss Royal was now looking very uneasy.

"I think it's grand. Come on, Charlie, how about it?" I said, playfully punching him. Apparently I hit him harder than I thought for he doubled up in pain.

"Frank!" scolded Lizzie raising her eyebrow at me. I looked apologetically at her and helped Charlie to a seat.

"Well, it certainly was unorthodox." Said Jane, my cousin, "Though perhaps the subject matter is a little unbecoming for a lady. I would have expected Miss Royal to begin with some witty general observation, a wryly expressed universal truth, for example, on love and courtship—the usual themes for the female pen."

"Oh, Jane! How can you be so dull?" I said, "We don't want none of that girly stuff. Straight into the action, that's what we like and that's what Miss Royal gave us. And I thought the pictures were capital."

Marchmont, suddenly becoming alert said, "The pictures did indeed display an uncommon talent, but I am not sure if Miss What's-Her-Name's outpourings are respectable enough for my sisters to hear, Lady Elizabeth." Lizzie looked worried but I was annoyed.

"Rubbish, Marchmont." I said. But he continued on.

"It's stuff like that which leads to anarchy. We see it daily in France; I hope to God we do not see it here." He said.

"Parroting your Pittite phrases are you," I said, "you'd better not let your father find out. As a friend of liberty, he wouldn't like to hear that his son's a dyed-in-the-wool reactionary."

"Francis!" hissed Lizzie.

"I think we had better go." Marchmont said leading his sisters to the door, "Thank you for a lovely evening, Lady Elizabeth. The music was superb."

Everyone else decided to leave as well but Pedro and Miss Royal stood uncertainly waiting in the corner of the room. When everyone had left Lizzie turned to me, "Frank, do you have to be so rude to my guests?"

I shrugged, "I don't know why you invited them, Lizzie. Just because father's friendly with his father, it doesn't mean we have to endure them. You know I think Marchmont a prig. You are too polite to say what you really think of his sisters, but I know you don't like them."

"Yes, but to attack him in our own drawing room—that's very bad manners!"

"And criticizing your brother in front of strangers isn't" I nodded at Pedro and Miss Royal.

Lizzie blushed. "I'm sorry. I did not realize that you were still here."

She nudged me towards them and hissed, "Go on. Pay them."

I walked up to Pedro and bowed. Dropping a purse full of coins into his hand I said, "A token of our sincere appreciation of your talents."

He thanked me and I turned to Miss Royal. "I hope our ill-mannered guest did not offend you, Miss Royal? You did splendidly. Tell me: does all this really happen as you describe it?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes sir."

Pedro jumped in. "It's even better than she writes it. We have parties and music, boxing and battles."

"Boxing!" I said eagerly, "My great passion is the ring! I want to learn how to box, but father won't let me." For years I had been asking him to let me take lessons but he refused.

Leaning towards me confidentially Pedro said, "Well, Cat here—I mean Miss Royal—just so happens to be best friends with Covent Garden's boxing champion. We are watching him in a match on Sunday. For a small consideration, we might be able to take you along."

"Pedro!" she whispered in warning.

I was surprised to hear that she was friends with a boxing champion. Most girls I had met didn't even know what boxing was. I thought aloud. "Will you?...Yes, I might be able to get away." Looking over my shoulder quickly I saw Lizzie sitting at the piano playing a melancholy love song. "Lizzie's a bit absent minded at the moment, mooning over one of her suitors who ran off late last night. She's not as sharp as normal. If I pretend to be ill and get out of church, I should be able to do it."

"We'll meet you on the corner of Grosvenor Square then. At ten." Said Pedro quickly.

"At ten," I agreed.

Miss Royal Glared at Pedro and said sullenly, "If you are coming, you'd better dress down a bit, sir."

I grinned at her, "Right you are Cat—I mean Miss Royal."

After they left I immediately began thinking up a disguise I could wear. Finally I decided on a chimney sweep that way I could put soot on my face to act like a mask. Now I just needed to get the clothes.

I had the next day free to myself so I set about trying to put together an outfit. I went down to the stables and found Jenkins, the stable boy.

"Jenkins," I said confidentially, "Do you think you could get me some clothes. Something that a chimney sweep would wear."

"Yes sir," he replied, "When do want them?"

I smiled. "Tomorrow morning around ten. I'll come down here and you can give them to me then." I gave him a few coins and walked away.

There was a knock on my door. "Come in," I called weakly.

Lizzie opened the door and stared at me lying in bed. "Why aren't you ready? What's wrong?"

"I don't feel very well." I said.

Looking concerned she approached the side of my bed. She felt my forehead. "You don't feel warm."

I groaned. "No, but I do feel sick."

"Alright. I will go tell father that you won't be coming." She said walking towards the door, "Do you want me to have a maid bring you breakfast?"

"No thank you." I replied, "I don't think I could eat." I had a hard time keeping the excitement out of my voice.

As soon as Lizzie's footsteps faded away I jumped out of bed. I quietly slipped out my door and down the hall. Swiftly I ran down the stairs and passed the kitchen. I had gotten out safely and I hoped without anyone seeing me. I entered the stables and found Jenkins waiting for me. He handed me some clothes and I quickly put them on. Rubbing soot on my face completed my transformation and when I appeared in front of Jenkins he just smiled and walked away. I hid in an alley near where we were supposed to meet and with a good view of my house so that I could watch for Lizzie and my father. Carriages were pulling up to the front doors to pick up their passengers for church. When my father and Lizzie, walking arm in arm, left the house I saw two young boys hide behind a carriage. They looked familiar.

The coachman yelled at them, "'Ere, what you playin' at? Get away from my carriage."

The smaller boy shouted, "What's your problem mate? We haven't scratched your precious paintwork." And stuck his tongue at him. I smiled. I had recognized that voice.

The other boy, who I realized was Pedro, pulled her away saying, "Come on, Cat. You're enjoying this too much."

She laughed. "I can't tell you how good it feels to get out of petticoats. I feel like a different person."

"I can see that. Where is he?"

The clocks began to strike the hour. I whistled and threw a clump of dirt at Pedro. It hit the back of his head and he turned around angrily. Quickly I walked up to them spreading my arms wide so they could inspect my appearance.

Cat exclaimed, "Lord Francis! I'd never've recognized you!"

"Nor I you, Miss Royal." I said looking her up and down. Her hair had all been tucked up into her cap and without her mass of red curls she was hardly recognizable.

Stuffing a stray strand of hair deeper into her cap she said, "Forget Miss Royal, call me Cat."

"And you'd both better drop that Lord business. How about calling me Frank?" I said, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

"As you wish sir," said Pedro.

Looked down the street towards where my father and sister had disappeared. "Frank."

"Frank," said Pedro uncertainly.

Cat, as I was now calling her, turned around and started walking towards Oxford street. "Come on, we'd better hurry! We don't want to miss it." She called over her shoulder.

We ran through the streets, something which I had never done, dodging carriages, jumping over puddles, and jostling the families walking to church. Even though it was gray and drizzling I didn't notice it because of the excitement of the adventure I was on. Soon we had left the town behind. Although it was still plenty crowded with men on their way to the boxing match.

When we had slowed down to a walk because of the crowd I asked Cat, "So, who is your friend the boxing champion?"

She smiled, "His name is Syd, he is a butcher."