Frederica

Nothing, therefore, could have been more unexceptionable than his lordship’s opera-party; and nothing could have been more exactly calculated to convince even the most suspicious that he was merely doing a guardian’s duty than his lordship’s polite but rather bored demeanour. It was a simple matter for him to engage Frederica in conversation during the interval without attracting attention: he had merely to retire with her to the back of the box, to make room for those of Charis’s admirers who ventured to present themselves. He had said: ‘I hope you are pleased with me; I shall think myself very ill-used if I don’t receive a fervent expression of your gratitude!’

Only for an instant did she look puzzled; as he watched the laughter spring to her eyes he reflected that she had never yet daunted him by asking, fatally: ‘What do you mean?’ She had said instead: ‘Indeed, I am very much obliged to you, sir! I only wish –’ She paused, sighed, and said: ‘Don’t you think – now that you have had the opportunity to observe him more closely – that he would be the very man for her?’

He glanced at the unconscious Mr Navenby. ‘Perhaps: how can I tell? Is that what troubles you?’

‘No, it doesn’t trouble me, precisely. I am only anxious that she should be comfortably, and happily, established.’

‘Then what is it?’ he asked.

‘Why, nothing! Except that I shall be obliged to turn off the cook, which is a great bore, because she cooks well. But my housekeeper tells me that she is so much addicted to gin that she must go. Can you wonder at it if I appear a trifle harassed? – Though I hoped I did not!’

‘Oh, don’t be alarmed! I daresay no one who wasn’t well-acquainted with you would notice the least change in you, and might even be fobbed off with this Canterbury tale about your cook.’

‘It isn’t a Canterbury tale!’ she said indignantly.

‘Very well, but the cook hasn’t cut up your serenity, Frederica. Tell me, are you afraid, as Jessamy appears to be, that you will all be brought to a standstill because Harry has bought himself a stylish curricle and pair?’

‘Good God, no! I own, I wish he hadn’t done so, for I don’t think he has the least notion of what it will cost him to maintain his own carriage in London, but I promise you it hasn’t cut up my serenity, as you call it! Did Jessamy tell you about it? I wish you will tell him that it is not for him to lecture Harry how he should go on!’

‘Oh, I’ve already done so!’ he replied.

‘Thank you!’ she said, with a look of gratitude. ‘He pays much more heed to you than to anyone else, so I shall indulge myself with the hope that when next he sees Harry he won’t look quite so disapprovingly at him!’

His brows rose. ‘When next he sees him? Is Harry away, then?’

‘Why, yes – just for a day or two! I am not perfectly sure, but I believe – that is, I know he has gone off on an expedition with some friends,’ she replied lightly.

‘So that’s it!’ he said, smiling.

‘Indeed it isn’t! How can you be so absurd?’

‘Shall I accept that rebuke with a civil bow, or would you prefer me to reassure you?’ His smile grew, as her eyes lifted involuntarily to his face in a questioning look. ‘You are a very good sister, and you don’t in the least object to Harry’s going off with his friends, but you are afraid that he may have got into bad company, are you not? Well, you may be easy on that head: I am not personally acquainted with young Peplow, but, according to what I hear, he’s not one of what we call the peep-of-day boys. I have little doubt that he and Harry will cut up a number of extremely foolish larks, but that need not concern you: such antics are to be expected of halflings.’ He paused, hesitating for a moment before he said: ‘When I first met you, Frederica, you spoke to me of your father with a frankness which makes it possible for me to tell you that I believe that you have very little need to dread that Harry may follow in his footsteps. I perceive the resemblance between them, but I can also perceive certain differences, the chief being that Harry seems to have no taste for gaming. Does that reassure you?’

She nodded, and replied in a low tone: ‘Yes – thank you! I own, that – that possibility has been in my mind, though I can’t tell how you should have guessed it.’ She smiled at him, in her frank way, saying simply: ‘You are very good, and I’m truly grateful – in particular for your kindness to my

brothers. I don’t know why you should interest yourself in Harry – who can’t even make a false claim to be your ward! – but I do thank you for it!’

He could have told her why he had made it his business to interest himself in Harry, but he had not done so, shying away from what would have come perilously near to the declaration he was determined not to make. She was a darling, but he had no intention of committing himself, and not for the world would he cause her to suffer the least twinge of mortification. Or so he had thought. It was not until later, when he searched his own mind, that he realised that there had been another reason for his abstention: he had been afraid of losing her altogether. He remembered that he had kissed her hand once, and that even that small sign of regard had made her withdraw from him a little. He had retrieved his position almost immediately; but in the resumption of cordial relations there had never been, on her side, any hint that she wanted anything but friendship from him.

This was a new experience. So many traps had been set for him, so many handkerchiefs thrown to him, that it had not previously occurred to him that his suit might not be acceptable to any lady whom he chose to honour with a proposal. But Frederica was not on the catch for him; he was very sure that she would not marry him, or any other man, for the sake of rank or wealth; he was far from sure that she liked him well enough for his own sake to accept an offer from him. Salutary! he thought, with a wry smile; and suddenly wondered whether the ease with which he had captivated Julia Parracombe, the dashing Mrs Ilford, and a score of others, had turned him into a contemptible coxcomb, who believed himself to be irresistible.

He was still, several days later, trying to discover the true state of his own mind, and Frederica’s, when he returned to his house at dusk one evening to find the hall littered with portmanteaux and band-boxes, the two footmen halfway up the stairs, carrying a corded trunk, and his butler wearing an expression of fatherly benevolence.

‘What the devil – ?’ he demanded.

‘It’s my Lady Elizabeth, my lord,’ explained Wicken, relieving him of his hat and gloves. ‘Quite like old times it seems! She arrived not twenty minutes ago.’

‘Oh, did she?’ said his lordship, somewhat grimly.

The Lady Elizabeth – that Poor Eliza, who had married a mere Mr Kentmere – emerged from the library at this moment, still habited in her travelling-dress, and said, with great affability: ‘Yes, dear Vernon: she did! But you mustn’t fall into raptures! It’s not at all the thing. Besides, I know how delighted you must be!’

She strolled forward as she spoke, a tall, rather lanky woman, the nearest to the Marquis in age of his sisters, and the most like him in countenance, but with more liveliness, and less grace than he possessed. ‘What an elegant rig!’ she remarked, laughing at him. ‘Everything prime about you!’

‘I wish I might return the compliment!’ he retorted, lightly kissing her proffered cheek. ‘What a quiz of a hat! You look like a dowdy, Eliza! What has brought you to London?’

‘My quiz of a hat, of course. I must – I positively must buy a new one!’ She added, in languishing accents: ‘If only I could afford to buy a new dress as well – my dear, dear brother!’

Since the only thing that had made the mere Mr Kentmere in any way acceptable to her parents had been his extremely handsome fortune, the Marquis was not deceived. Pushing her into the library, he said, shutting the door: ‘Try for a little conduct, Eliza!’