Lucy sent her driver off enjoying the fog which rather than burn off with the morning sun had become thicker as the day progressed. She preferred to walk and rarely used a driver at home, certainly her father would rather she use one while they were in London but she couldn’t resist today. The fog would hide her well and give her a few moments in which to clear the fog from her own head.
Oh how she hated London and how she longed for the quaint and quiet life of their country home, she never felt at piece here her mind always in turmoil. Her father’s days were filled with business to attend and he could at least feel useful here which may have made a difference, but her days in London were nothing more than endless rounds of tea and gossip. At least during the season there was a fair bit of entertainment watching the young debutantes make fools of themselves. The only problem was that she also had to be so much more careful when London was crawling with societies finest.
That spectacle at the Dorchester had quite nearly pushed Lucy over the edge today. That daft girl Maribel had caused quite the scene although Lucy did suppose she should not have laughed at her hat. There was a point Lucy thought however when the idea of being fashion forward became ridiculous attention seeking. The poor girl had had no idea who she was dealing with. Never mind who her father was if the girl had any inkling of what Lucy’s nighttime activities involved, well she wouldn’t dare to speak against her.
Lucy laughed to herself imagining what society indeed what Scotland Yard would say if they knew the truth. Oh but Lucy knew that was just fanciful thinking, regardless of how amusing it might be to reveal what she had done she couldn’t do that. She certainly had no desire to spend time behind bars nor to meet the end of her days dangling from a rope and she knew lady or not that is certainly what the end results would be.
Perhaps she couldn’t share the truth but perhaps some fun could be had on a night with such a deep fog rolling through the streets. If she were to say she felt ill and sent her father along to that evening’s ball without her she would have plenty of time. Oh how lovely that would be. Imagine the headlines if she introduced “Jack” to high society. She thought as she had before how nice it would be if she could thank the silly bloke who had written the letters giving her alter ego such a memorable name.
