Frederica

‘Oh, yes, I can imagine that – and also that your brother had nothing to say in the matter!’

‘Well, he wasn’t of age then, but of course I did nothing without his consent. At first, he couldn’t like it: I think it wounded his pride. To own the truth, I didn’t like it either – but what could be more nonsensical than to cling to one’s consequence when one is living on a monkey’s allowance? It is still only by practising the strictest economy that we can keep out of debt, and until Mr Porth entered into a treaty for the house it was wholly out of my power to undertake this London venture. Even if I could broach my principal, which I am not permitted to do, I don’t think I should, for that would leave me dependent on poor Harry.’ She looked seriously across at his lordship. ‘That mustn’t be, you know. I don’t say it to him, because he is very young, and thinks that nothing could be more natural than for us all to continue at Graynard. But I shouldn’t be at all surprised if he wished to be married in a year or two. Only think how much his wife would dislike having his sisters planted at Graynard, and how uncomfortable it would be for us!’

‘Very true,’ he agreed. ‘If any female could be induced to marry him under such circumstances, which I strongly doubt.’

Her gravity disappeared; she gave another of her chuckles. ‘She would be afraid that I should rule the roast, wouldn’t she? Which I probably should, because I’ve done so for so long, and habits are very hard to overcome. No: the best thing will be for Charis to contract a suitable marriage; and for the boys, and my aunt, and me, to set up an establishment of our own as soon as Harry becomes engaged. I made up my mind to that a long time ago. But the most pressing need is to provide for Charis! It seems to me to be positively wicked that anyone so beautiful should dwindle into an old maid! Which is what she would do, unless she married one of the dreadfully dull young men in our neighbourhood, who have been dangling after her this age; or, worse, some wholly ineligible creature, not worth a hair! It was that consideration which made me regard Mr Porth’s offer as a stroke of good fortune. Well, only think, sir! He hires only the house, and the Home farm, at a figure which I shouldn’t have dared to suggest to him; and the rest of the property, which is beginning to pull in the pieces again, remains in Harry’s possession, for, naturally, Mr Porth has no wish to be burdened with its management. And, which is of the first importance, it was of particular interest to him to hire, as well as the house, the servants, except our housekeeper, and our butler. That was another stroke of good fortune, because Mrs Hurley, and dear old Buddle, would never have consented to remain at Graynard in the employment of anyone but a Merriville. So we were able to bring them to London with us; and although they despise London, and are for ever telling me what a horrid house this is, and furnished in the most rubbishing style; and complaining that London servants are a chuck-farthing set, it is the greatest comfort to have them with us! And I must say,’ she added candidly, ‘it is a horrid house, and not situated, as I’ve discovered, in the modish part of town. Never having visited London, I asked my Aunt Scrabster to procure a furnished house for me. That was a mistake. She lives in Harley Street herself, and I find that this district is almost entirely inhabited by persons engaged in trade. However, I am told that the most extortionate rents are demanded for houses in Mayfair, besides fines upon entrance, so I don’t repine. The worst mistake I made was believing that my aunt had either the power or the desire to introduce us to the ton!’ She smiled. ‘My tongue runs like a fiddlestick, doesn’t it? The round tale is that my aunt and uncle, being childless, have never made any attempt to live in a – in a fashionable way; and poor Aunt Amelia was never more dismayed than when I informed her of my decision to come to London for the season! That, sir, is why I was forced to apply to you.’

He had been meditatively tapping the lid of his snuff-box, and he now flicked it open, and, frowning slightly, took a pinch, while Frederica watched him, not unhopefully. He shut the box, dusted his long fingers, and at last looked at her, still frowning. ‘You would be well advised to be content with something less than the first circle of society,’ he said bluntly.

‘Are we so ineligible?’ she demanded.

‘By birth, no. In all other respects, yes. I don’t know what your pecuniary resources may be, but –’

‘Enough!’

‘If you are thinking of a Court presentation for your sister you would do better to fund your money: it’s an investment that would yield you no dividend.’

‘I know that, and I don’t think of it.’

‘What, then?’

She clasped her hand together in her lap, and said, a little breathlessly: ‘Almack’s!’

‘You are aiming at the moon, Miss Merriville. No introduction of mine would help you to cross that hallowed threshold! Unless you number amongst your acquaintances some matron possessing the entrée, who would be willing to sponsor you –’

‘I don’t. If that had been the case I shouldn’t have sought your assistance. But I won’t cry craven! Somehow I shall manage – see if I don’t!’

He rose politely, saying: ‘I hope you may. If you think my advice of value, may I suggest that you would have a better chance of success if you were to remove to one of the watering places? Bath, or Tunbridge Wells, where you may attend the assemblies, and would no doubt meet persons of consideration.’

She too rose, but before she could answer him she was interrupted by the sound of hasty footsteps on the stairs. The next instant a sturdy schoolboy burst into the room, exclaiming: ‘Frederica, it was nothing but a fudge! We searched all over, and I asked people, and no one knew anything about it!’

Four

Miss Merriville, unperturbed by the irruption into her drawing-room of a young gentleman who had contrived to acquire, since she had last seen him some three hours earlier, a crumpled and grubby collar and muddied nankeens, responded with qui

ck sympathy: ‘Oh, no! How wretched for you! But it can’t have been a fudge, Felix! It was Mr Rushbury who told you about it, and he wouldn’t have hoaxed you!’

By this time Master Felix Merriville had taken cursory stock of the Marquis, but he would undoubtedly have poured forth the story of his morning’s Odyssey to his sister had he not been quelled by another, and older, schoolboy, who, entering the room in his wake, severely adjured him to mind his manners. A large and shaggy dog, of indeterminate parentage, was at his heels; and just as he was apologising to Frederica for having come in when she was entertaining a visitor, this animal advanced with the utmost affability to greet the Marquis. His disposition was friendly, as he showed by the waving of his plumed tail; and his evident intention was to jump up at the guest. But Alverstoke, wise in the ways of dogs, preserved his face from being generously licked, and his exquisitely fashioned coat of Bath Superfine from being smirched by muddy paws, by catching the animal’s fore-arms, and holding him at bay. ‘Yes, good dog!’ he said. ‘I’m much obliged to you, but I don’t care to have my face licked!’

‘Down, Lufra!’ commanded Mr Jessamy Merriville, in even more severe accents. He added, with his sister’s absence of shyness: ‘I beg pardon, sir: I would not have brought him in if I had known that my sister was entertaining a visitor.’

‘Not at all: I like dogs,’ responded his lordship, reducing Lufra to abject slavery by running his fingers along the precise spot on the spine which that grateful hound was unable to scratch for himself. ‘What did you call him?’

‘Lufra, sir,’ said Jessamy, a dark flush rising to the roots of his hair. ‘At least, I never did so! It was a silly notion of my sisters’: I called him Wolf, when he was a puppy! But they would persist, so, in the end, he wouldn’t answer to his right name! And he is not a bitch!’

Perceiving that his lordship had been carried out of his depth, Frederica explained the matter to him. ‘It’s from The Lady of the Lake,’ she told him. ‘I daresay you recall the passage, when the Monarch bade let loose a gallant stag? And Lufra – whom from Douglas side Nor bribe nor threat could e’er divide, The fleetest hound in all the North, Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. She left the royal hounds midway, And dashing on the antler’d prey, Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank –’

‘And deep the flowing life-blood drank!’ interpolated Felix, with relish.

‘Stow it!’ growled his senior. ‘It wasn’t a stag at all, sir – merely a young bull, which we had not thought to be dangerous! and as for drinking its life-blood – stuff!’

‘No, but you can’t deny that Luff saved you from being gored!’ said Frederica. She looked up at Alverstoke. ‘Only fancy! He was hardly more than a puppy, but he rushed in, and hung on to the bull’s muzzle, while Jessamy scrambled over the gate to safety! And I am very sure that not even the offer of a marrowbone could divide him from Jessamy, could it, dear Luff?’

Gratified by this tribute, the faithful hound flattened his ears, wagged his tail, and, after uttering a yelp of encouragement, sat panting at her feet. His master, rendered acutely uncomfortable by this passage, would have removed himself, his dog, and his brother from the drawing-room if Frederica had not detained him, saying: ‘No, pray don’t run away! I wish to make you known to Lord Alverstoke! This is my brother Jessamy, sir, and this is Felix.’

His lordship, acknowledging their bows, found that he was being surveyed: by Jessamy, whom he judged to be about sixteen years of age, measuringly; by Felix, three or four years younger, with the unwavering yet incurious gaze of childhood. He was quite unaccustomed to being weighed up; and there was a decided twinkle in his eyes as he looked the boys over.

Jessamy, he thought, was an exaggerated copy of his sister: his hair was darker than hers, his nose more aquiline, and his mouth and chin determined to the point of obstinacy. Felix still retained the snub-nose and the chubbiness of extreme youth, but he had the same firm chin and direct gaze which characterised his seniors, and even less shyness. It was he who broke the silence, blurting out: ‘Sir! Do you know about the Catch-me-who-can?’