‘I didn’t know it, but I don’t find it very hard to believe.You have all my sympathy.’
‘Sympathy! What’s the use of that to me?’ cried Peregrine, a good deal injured.
‘I’m afraid it isn’t of any use to you at all,’ said Worth. ‘We are wandering a little from the point, are we not? You owe me something over four thousand pounds – if you look over those I O Us you may find out the exact sum for yourself – and I am anxious to know when you propose to pay me.’
‘You are my guardian!’ said Peregrine hotly. ‘You have control of all my fortune!’
The Earl lifted one well-manicured hand. ‘Oh no, Peregrine! You must leave me as your guardian quite out of this discussion, if you please. As your guardian I have already intimated that I have no intention of assisting you to game your fortune away. As your creditor I am merely desirous of knowing when it will suit your convenience to redeem these notes.’
By this time Peregrine was feeling very limp, but he kept his chin up, and said in as even a voice as he could manage: ‘In that case, sir, I shall have to ask you to have the goodness to wait until next quarter-day, when I shall be able to pay you – not all, but a large part of the sum I owe you.’
The Earl once more looked him over in such a way that made the unfortunate Peregrine feel very small, and hot, and uncom fortable. ‘Perhaps I should have told you – in the character of your guardian – that it is customary to settle your debts of honour at once,’ he said gently.
Peregrine flushed, gripped his hands together on his knee, and muttered: ‘I know.’
‘Otherwise,’ said the Earl, delicately adjusting one of the folds of his cravat, ‘you may find yourself obliged to resign from your clubs.’
Peregrine got up suddenly. ‘You shall have the money by tomorrow morning, Lord Worth,’ he said, his voice trembling. ‘Had I known – had I guessed the attitude you would choose to assume I should have arranged the payment before ever I called on you.’
‘Let me make one thing quite plain to you – I am speaking once more as your guardian, Peregrine. – If I find at any time during the next two years that you have visited my friends Howard and Gibbs, or, in fact, any other moneylender, you will return to Yorkshire until you come of age.’
Very white about the mouth, Peregrine stared down at the Earl, and said rather numbly: ‘What am I to do? What can I do?’
The Earl pointed to the chair. ‘Sit down.’
Peregrine obeyed, and sat with his eyes fixed anxiously on his guardian’s face.
‘Do you quite understand that I mean what I have said? I will neither advance you money for your gaming debts, nor permit you to go to the Jews.’
‘Yes, I understand,’ said poor Peregrine, wondering what was to become of him.
‘Very well then,’ said Worth, and picked up the little sheaf of papers, tore them once across, and dropped them into a waste-paper-b
asket under the dressing-table.
Peregrine’s first emotion at this unexpected action was one of staggering relief. He gave a gasp, and his colour came flooding back. Then he got up quickly, and thrust his hand into the basket. ‘No!’ he said jerkily. ‘I don’t play and not pay, sir! If you will neither advance me the money nor permit me to obtain it in my own way, keep my notes till I come of age, if you please!’
The Earl’s hand closed over his wrist, and the grip of his slender fingers made Peregrine wince.‘Let them fall,’ he said quietly.
Peregrine, who had caught up the torn notes, continued to clutch them in his prisoned hand. ‘I won’t! I lost the money in fair play, and I don’t choose to put myself under such an obliga tion to you! You are very good – extremely kind, I am sure – but I had rather lose my whole fortune than accept such generosity!’
‘Let them fall,’ repeated the Earl. ‘And do not flatter yourself that in destroying the notes I am trying to be kind to you. I do not choose to figure as the man who won over four thousand pounds from his own ward.’
Peregrine said sulkily: ‘I do not see what that signifies.’
‘Then you must be very dull-witted,’ returned the Earl. ‘I should warn you that my patience is by no means inexhaustible. Put those notes down!’ He tightened his grip as he spoke. Peregrine drew in his breath sharply, and allowed the crumpled papers to fall back into the basket. Worth let him go. ‘What was it you wanted to say to me?’ he asked calmly.
Peregrine swung over to the window, and stood staring blindly out, one hand fidgeting with the curtain-tassel. His whole pose suggested that he was labouring under a strong sensation of chagrin. The Earl sat and watched him, a slight smile in his eyes. After a moment, as Peregrine seemed still to be struggling with himself, he got up and slipped off his dressing-gown, tossing it on to the bed. He strolled over to get his coat, and put it on. Having adjusted it carefully, flicked a speck of dust from his shining Hessians, and scrutinised his appearance critically in the long mirror, he picked up a Sèvres snuff-box from his dressing-table, and said: ‘Come! We will finish this conversation downstairs.’
Peregrine turned reluctantly. ‘Lord Worth!’ he began on a long breath.
‘Yes, when we get downstairs,’ said the Earl, opening the door.
Peregrine made a stiff little bow, and stood back for him to go first.
The Earl went in his leisurely fashion down the stairs, and led the way into a pleasant library behind the saloon. The butler was just setting a tray bearing glasses and a decanter on the table. He arranged these to his satisfaction, and withdrew, closing the door behind him.
The Earl picked up the decanter, and poured out two glasses of wine. One of them he held out to Peregrine. ‘Madeira, but if you prefer it I can offer you sherry,’ he said.