"Ah, I suppose that does make a certain amount of sense," Quentin says with a soft chuckle. "Especially considering what you've been up to. Or whom." He says with a wicked grin as they roll into the train yard. He'd sent a missive that she should bring along an overnight bag, just in case. So the driver fetches that from the back as he helps her down to the street graciously offering her his hand. "I've got us tickets for a private car, we can eat aboard the train or wait until we get to London." The train food would be serviceable but not remarkable, they'd get better fare in London but they would then have less time at the gardens. He had decided to leave the choice in her hands.