‘There, I must own, you have the advantage of us,’ agreed Frederica.
‘Good gracious, when was Harry in London?’ asked Charis, in innocent surprise.
‘I don’t precisely remember, but it was some years ago. Aunt Scrabster invited him, because of being his godmother, and he spent a whole week in Harley Street, and was shown all the sights – weren’t you, Harry?’
He grimaced at her. ‘That’s quite enough, Freddy! Lord, how my uncle did drag me about, and to the stuffiest places! But the thing is that I’ve learnt a great deal since I went up to Oxford, and I fancy I’ve a pretty fair notion of what’s o’clock. And I’ll tell you one thing I don’t like, and that’s this house!’
‘No, nor do we, but in spite of its shabby furniture, and its unfashionable situation, we contrive to move in the first circles, I promise you!’
‘I know that, and I don’t like it above half. It was this fellow, Alverstoke, who brought that about, wasn’t it? I never heard of him in my life until you wrote that he was a cousin of ours, but I can tell you this! – I know a great deal about him now, and I must say, Frederica, I can’t understand how you came to put yourself under his protection! You ain’t in general so b
ird-witted!’
‘But, Harry, what can you mean?’ exclaimed Charis. ‘He has been so very kind and obliging! You can have no notion!’
‘Oh, can’t I?’ he retorted. ‘Well, that’s where you’re out, because I have! Kind and obliging! I daresay!’
‘Yes, and particularly so to the boys! Are you thinking that he is very starched-up? He does appear to be, and I know that some people say he is odiously haughty, and cares only for his own pleasure, but it isn’t so, is it, Frederica? Only think of his taking Felix all over that foundry, and arranging for him to see the New Mint, besides letting Jessamy ride that lovely horse!’
‘Lord Alverstoke was under an obligation to Papa,’ said Frederica coolly. ‘It was on that account that he consented – not very willingly! – to act as our guardian.’
‘Guardian? He’s no guardian of mine!’ interrupted Harry, up in arms.
‘Certainly not. Or of mine! How should he be, when we are both of age?’
‘Yes, well – oh, you don’t understand!’
‘I assure you I do! You’ve been told that he’s a shocking rake –’
‘Is he?’ interpolated Charis, her eyes widening. ‘I had thought a rake would have been very different! Well, I know they are! They try to get up flirtations, and put one to the blush by the things they say, and – oh, you know, Frederica! Cousin Alverstoke isn’t at all like that. Indeed, I’ve often thought him dreadfully strict!’
‘Yes, for ever preaching propriety, and giving one a scold for not behaving as though one had but just escaped from the schoolroom,’ said Frederica, with considerable feeling. ‘Make yourself easy, Harry! Whatever may be Alverstoke’s reputation, he cherishes no improper designs where we are concerned! Nor did we come out under his aegis. It’s true that he invited us to a ball which he gave in honour of his niece, but it was his sister, Lady Buxted, who fired us off, as they say.’
He did not look to be perfectly satisfied; but as Jessamy came in at that moment the subject was allowed to drop. Jessamy looked grave when he learned the reason for Harry’s arrival, but he only said, when warned that his senior wanted no jobations from him: ‘Certainly not!’
‘And none of your moralising speeches either!’ said Harry, eyeing him in some suspicion.
‘You needn’t be afraid of that. I have no right to moralise,’ replied Jessamy, sighing.
‘Hey, what’s this?’ Harry demanded. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been kicking up riot and rumpus, old sobersides!’
‘Something very like it,’ Jessamy said heavily, the scene in Piccadilly vivid in his memory.
Both his sisters cried out at this; and by the time Harry had been regaled by them with the story of the Pedestrian Curricle, and had gone into shouts of laughter, Jessamy had begun to think that it had not been so very bad after all, and was even able to laugh a little himself, and to tell Harry about the adventure’s glorious sequel, dwelling with such particularity on the points of Alverstoke’s various hacks and carriage-horses that the ladies soon bethought themselves of tasks in some other part of the house, and withdrew.
When the subject had been thoroughly discussed, Harry acknowledged that it was certainly handsome of the Marquis to place his hacks at Jessamy’s disposal, and gratified his brother by adding: ‘Not that he’d anything to fear. I’ll say this for you, young ’un: you’ve as neat a seat and as light a hand as anyone I know.’
‘Yes, but he didn’t know that!’ said Jessamy naïvely.
Harry grinned, but refrained from comment. You never knew how Jessamy would take it, if you made game of him, and he thought it rather beneath himself to set up the boy’s bristles. Besides, he wanted to know more about the Marquis. Jessamy was six years his junior, but he had a good deal of respect for his judgment, and a somewhat rueful dependence on his ability to detect weakness of moral character. If Jessamy erred, it would not be on the side of tolerance.
But Jessamy had little but good to say of the Marquis. He understood why Harry should be anxious, and owned that he had wondered, at first, if Alverstoke meant to dangle after Charis. ‘It’s no such thing, however. He doesn’t seem to me to pay much heed to her. He did take her driving in the park once, but Frederica told me he only did so as a sort of warning to some horrid rip that was making up to her; and he doesn’t send her flowers, or haunt the house, like cousin Endymion!’
‘Cousin who?’ demanded Harry.
‘Endymion. Well, that’s what we call him, and, according to Frederica, we are connected with him in some way or another. He’s Cousin Alverstoke’s heir, and in the Life Guards. Nutty on Charis, but there’s no need to worry about him! He’s a big, beef-witted fellow: no harm in him at all – but lord, what a clothhead! Then there’s Cousin Gregory – he’s one of Cousin Alverstoke’s nephews; and Cousin Buxted – but he comes to sit in Frederica’s pocket; and –’
‘Here, how many more of them?’ interpolated Harry, startled.