Ruby stiffened and cautiously stared around for suspects. The porter soon arrived with their luggage on a trolley and led them out of the station to where a number of hackney cabs were waiting for fares. Ruby’s eyes almost popped out of her head as she stared at the scene in front of her. There was traffic everywhere and more people than she had ever seen in one place in her life. Smartly dressed women in elaborate gowns and bonnets, and gentlemen in expensive overcoats and top hats jostled with others who were dressed in little more than rags and held their hands out to them for coins as they passed. If Ruby had been asked, she would have been forced to say that her first glimpse of London was rather disappointing. From the pictures she had seen she had always imagined it to be a glamorous city where the streets were paved with gold, but from what she could see of it, it looked dirty and overcrowded. To make matters worse, a thick smog was settling across the streets, and in the dim glow of the street lights it bathed everything in an unhealthy yellow glow.

She didn’t have long to ponder on it, however, because Mr Pembroke was already ushering them into a cab and once their luggage had been loaded, he gave the porter a healthy tip and the driver an address in Belgravia. As the driver steered the horse into the fast-moving traffic, Ruby peered from the cab window with interest. There were a number of stalls and barrows dotted about on the edge of the streets selling everything from jellied eels, which she thought looked quite revolting, to women selling tiny bunches of dried heather. They were all shouting their wares and that, added to the noise of the many wheels rattling on the cobbled road, was so loud that Ruby felt a headache beginning to form behind her eyes.

‘Is it far to Mr Chatsworth’s house?’ she asked as they passed through Marylebone.

Mr Pembroke shook his head. ‘Only a couple of miles or so,’ he told her with a smile.

Nodding, she settled back against the grubby leather squabs and continued to stare out of the window. Eventually they began to travel through Mayfair and the grubby streets gave way to grander residences. They then passed through Westminster and she blinked with delight as they passed Westminster Cathedral – it was even bigger and grander than she had imagined. Finally they arrived in Belgravia where the cab pulled up in front of a large town house that was shrouded in the late-afternoon smog. It had steps leading up to an imposing oak front door that boasted an enormous brass knocker, and a picket fence ran all along the front of it with steps leading down to what Ruby rightly guessed must be the kitchen.