Frederica

‘Oh, no!’ said Charis, shuddering. ‘It must have been so dreadful for you!’

‘Well, it was,’ admitted Frederica. ‘Indeed, if it hadn’t been for Alverstoke I don’t know how I should have managed. I can never be sufficiently grateful to him. So firm and patient with Felix! Such an unfailing support to me, particularly during those two days when I feared – But don’t let us talk of it! My dear, have you been ill? You are looking positively whey-faced!’

‘Oh, no! I am perfectly well! It’s the hot weather.’

‘Very likely. I have been feeling it very much myself, even in the country: horridly languid, and a sort of lowness and oppression. It must have been far worse here. Indeed, when we got between the houses Jessamy said it was like driving into an oven. Never mind! I hope we shall be many miles from London within a few days. Did Alverstoke tell you of the delightful scheme he has made for us?’

‘No,’ Charis answered, staring at her apprehensively.

‘We are to go down to Alver, and to stay there for as long as we choose!’ said Frederica, beginning to unpack her portmanteau. ‘I daresay I ought to have declined the offer, but it was too tempting! so exactly what the boys will like! It is in Somerset, you know, and quite near Bath, which is an advantage. – Oh, dear, just look at this muslin! I shall coax you to do my packing when we set out for Alver!’ Receiving no reply, she looked round, to find that Charis had sunk into a chair, and had buried her face in her hands. ‘Charis! Dearest, what’s the matter?’

‘I am so very unhappy!’

‘Good God, why?’

‘I don’t want to go to Alver!’

Curbing her exasperation, Frederica said calmly: ‘Do you mean that you had liefer go to the seaside?’

‘Oh, no! I don’t wish to go anywhere!’

‘Charis, I don’t think you perfectly understand the case,’ said Frederica. ‘It is necessary for Felix’s health to take him out of London. And if this is what London is like during the summer months, so intolerably stuffy and dusty, I am very sure it is necessary for all our healths! Are you thinking that it will be dull? Perhaps you may find it so, after our rakings, but you were not used to think the country dull. I believe Alver is a most beautiful place, too: do you remember what the guide-book said about its park, and its pleasure gardens, and its lake, with all the rare shrubs planted round it? We shall never be tired of sketching there! Alverstoke says that the boys may fish the trout-stream, too – I wish you might have seen Jessamy, when he learned of the scheme! You wouldn’t want to deny him such a treat! After all, love, neither he nor Felix grudged us ours, did they?’

‘Oh, no, no! I didn’t mean – Of course they must go! If only I might remain here! I thought perhaps I could stay in Harley Street. If Aunt Seraphina goes with you, poor Aunt Amelia will be glad to have me, I daresay.’

‘Aunt Seraphina will not go with us, for I don’t mean to ask her. I see no need for any chaperon, and if I did I shouldn’t call upon her services, for I’m quite out of charity with her! As for leaving you with Aunt Amelia, you may put that notion out of your head!’

‘Oh, Frederica – !’

‘If you don’t want to drive me into a pelter, stop moaning!’ snapped Frederica. ‘You may stop shamming it, too! Upon my word, Charis, I wonder at you! What you wish to do is to remain in London, making a cake of yourself over Endymion Dauntry, and well I know it! I should suppose that that is what you have been doing while I was away! I wish you may not have set people in a bustle!’

‘I love Endymion!’ declared Charis, rearing up her head. ‘And he loves me!’

‘Then I see no occasion for all these die-away airs,’ responded Frederica prosaically.

Charis started up, eagerness in her face. ‘Do you mean – can you mean that you consent to our marriage?’

‘There’s no saying what I might do, if your attachment proved to be more lasting than any of your previous ones,’ replied Frederica lightly.

‘You don’t mean to let me marry him – ever!’ said Charis, in throbbing accents. ‘You mean to separate us!’

‘What, by spending a few months at Alver? If your mutual passion won’t survive –’

‘Always! Always!’ Charis interrupted. ‘You will contrive to keep us apart, hoping that I shall forget him! But I shan’t, Frederica, I shan’t!’

‘Well, don’t fall into a lethargy! Remember that in two years you will be able (if I haven’t relented) to do precisely what you choose!’

‘Oh, you don’t know what it is to be in love!’ Charis said passionately.

‘No, and I must own that I’m thankful I don’t – if it means fretting, and fuming, and falling into this sort of extravagant folly! You may be thankful too, let me tell you! Excessively uncomfortable you would have found it! Do, pray, draw bridle, my dear! This isn’t the moment to be making such a piece of work about nothing. You shall see how you feel when you have had time to reflect. There, don’t let us rub against one another! I don’t mean to be unkind, but I’ve suffered too much anxiety to be able to enter into what seems to me to be such a very –’

She stopped, but Charis finished the sentence for her. ‘Unimportant matter!’ she flashed, and ran out of the room.

Frederica made no attempt to follow her. She had managed to keep her temper, but she had never been nearer to losing it with her sister. It seemed to her monstrous that, after all she had undergone, she should have been greeted on her homecoming by such a scene, and when she herself was suffering from lowness of spirits. Perhaps Charis did not realise that when one had passed through a time of terrible anxiety relief did not immediately restore the tone of one’s mind. To be sure, she herself had not expected that after the first raptures she would find herself subject to fits of dejection, and much inclined to be crotchety; but still Charis should have known better than to have enacted a tragical scene within an hour of her arrival.

The truth was, she told herself, that she was still very worn-down, and perhaps allowed herself to be too easily provoked. The last week at Monk’s Farm had tired her, when Alverstoke was no longer there to arrange everything for her. She had grown so much accustomed to turning to him for help or advice that naturally she had felt quite lost without him. She had missed his companionship, too; and rather thought that if he had remained at Monk’s Fa

rm she would not have fallen into such low spirits. That also was quite natural: however much one loved one’s young brothers one couldn’t talk to them as one could to Alverstoke – or, of course, to any other adult person.