In Park Lane, as all know, fronting upon Hyde Park, are some of the
finest residences in London. They are mansions, mostly inhabited by
England's aristocracy; many of them by the proudest of its nobility.
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On that same day on which Sir Robert Cottrell had paid his unintentional
visit to Mr Richard Swinton, at the calling hour of the afternoon an
open park phaeton, drawn by a pair of stylish ponies, with "flowing
manes and tails," might have been seen driving along Park Lane, and
drawing up in front of one of its splendid mansions, well-known to be
that of a nobleman of considerable distinction among his class.
The ribbons were held by a gentleman who appeared capable of
manipulating them; by his side a lady equally suitable to the equipage;
while an appropriate boy in top-boots and buttons occupied the back
seat.
Though the gentleman was young and handsome, the lady young and
beautiful, and the groom carefully got up, an eye, skilled in livery
decoration, could have told the turn-out to be one hired for the
occasion.
It was hired, and by Richard Swinton; for it was he who wielded the
whip, and his wife who gave grace to the equipage.
The ponies were guided with such skill that when checked up in front of
the nobleman's residence, the phaeton stood right under the drawing-room
windows.
In this there was a design.
The groom, skipping like a grasshopper from his perch, glided up the
steps, rang the bell, and made the usual inquiry.