He was nervous. His clothes did not help. He was dressed in a wide-brimmed hat with an enormous white feather on its crown. His baggy doublet and hose were of bright purple, and a wide white collar was draped around his neck. A straight rapier hung at his hip, held in place by a polished black leather belt. He had never worn such well-made clothes and he fidgeted, uncomfortable and nervous. He watched the entrance to the grand town house where the night’s festivities were taking place. Two huge braziers stood either side of a fine carpet of the deepest crimson laid out on the pavement. Liveried footman stood by like so many living statues, their faces impassive under powdered wigs. Jack walked forward, sucking his courage tight. He had waited for the arrival of the carriage belonging to the Ponsonby family, the coat of arms painted on its doors matching the description that Edmund had given him that afternoon, when he had delivered Jack’s fabulous costume. He had not been able to see the passengers who had got out, and that concerned him.
