Frederica (34 page)

“Why is it obligatory?” asked his lordship, preserving his iron calm, but directing a quelling glance at his sorely afflicted sister.

“Well—well, you’re my guardian, and—and I told Cousin Buxted you had invited me to go with you!” said Felix, with disarming frankness. He smiled blindingly at the Marquis, and added: “I
know
you’ll understand when I explain it to you, Cousin Alverstoke! You don’t like Cousin Buxted either!”

“When have I ever said so?” demanded his lordship.

“Oh, you don’t
say
it, but a pretty good lobcock I should be if I didn’t know it!” replied Felix scornfully. “Besides, when I told you about the bear-garden jaw he gave me when I went on the steam-boat, you said—”

In some haste, the Marquis interrupted, saying: “Yes, well, never mind that! In what way is Buxted concerned with this balloon of yours?”

“He has invited us all to drive with him to the park, to watch the ascension—well, not Harry, but the rest of us!” said Felix, in the voice of one relating a catastrophe. “And don’t
you
say that it is very kind and obliging of him, sir, like Jessamy, because if you don’t like a person, you don’t
wish
to be obliged to him!”

“That is very true!” remarked Lady Elizabeth, much struck. “In fact, one would prefer him
not
to be kind and obliging!”

“Yes, one
would
!”
agreed Felix, bestowing a look of warm approval upon her. “Besides, I know just how it would be, and I had almost liefer not go at all! Because, you may depend upon it, Jessamy will sit on the box, with the coachman, and I should have to sit beside Cousin Buxted and listen to him prosing on and on, and very likely gibble-gabbling to the girls about aeronautics, just as if he
knew,
which he doesn’t, and then explaining it to me, in a very
kind
way, and—Oh,
you
know, sir! I—I
couldn’t
!”
He saw the corners of Alverstoke’s mouth quiver, and said triumphantly: “I knew you would understand! So when I came into the room—not knowing he was there—and Frederica told me that he had invited us, I said I couldn’t go with him, because you had invited me to go with you, sir! And if Jessamy tells you I was rag-mannered it is not true! I thanked him very civilly, I promise you! Yes, and naturally I see that I can’t go at all, if you don’t take me, because that
would
be uncivil.”

“And you said you weren’t in a scrape! Did you bamboozle your family into believing your mendacious story?”

“Oh, no! Frederica and Jessamy knew it wasn’t true, of course. In fact, Frederica said, afterwards, that she utterly forbade me to
plague
you to take me. But I am not plaguing you: I am just
asking
you, sir! She says you don’t wish to see a balloon ascension, but I think it would be a
treat
for you!”

“Oh, do you?” said the Marquis. “Then let me tell you, you repellent and unscrupulous whelp—”

He was interrupted. “So it would be!” said Lady Elizabeth. “A high treat! For my part, I should enjoy it excessively, because it so happens that I have never watched a balloon ascension. Dear Vernon, you have been wondering how you may best entertain me, haven’t you? And now you know! You shall drive Felix and me to Hyde Park, to see the balloon go up!” “Wretch!” said the Marquis. “Very well!” “I
knew
you would!” cried Felix. “I
told
Jessamy you would!” He paused, before adding tentatively: “In your phaeton, sir?”

“Now, what do you care for phaetons, or horses?” asked Alverstoke. “What you would like me to do would be to drive you to Hyde Park in a Catch-me-who-can!”

“Yes, by Jupiter, wouldn’t I just!” exclaimed Felix, his eyes kindling. “Only you couldn’t, you know, because it ran on lines. The thing is that Jessamy is getting to be so top-lofty, because you let him drive your team, besides riding with him, that there’s no bearing it! So it would be
splendid,
if you took me instead of him!” A doubt shook him; he cast a look at Lady Elizabeth, and said politely: “If you wouldn’t object to it, ma’am!”

“Certainly not! I shouldn’t dream of watching a balloon ascension from anything so stuffy as a barouche,” she said promptly. “Besides, how else could we take the shine out of Cousin Buxted?”

This very proper speech confirmed him in his impression that she was a right one, and earned for her his fervent gratitude. A caveat, entered by Alverstoke, that phaetons were not designed to accommodate three people, was summarily disposed of, and he then took himself off, leaving Lady Elizabeth to the enjoyment of the mirth that had been consuming her.

XVIII

As a result of Felix’s visit, Lady Elizabeth went to visit Lady Jevington on the following morning. It was surprising, but understandable, that Alverstoke should take an interest in so engaging a young gentleman; but it appeared, from Felix’s artless conversation, that his interest extended to Jessamy—whom he permitted to drive his cherished horses; and that was by no means so understandable, unless this unprecedented behaviour sprang from a wish to gratify the Beauty of the family. Eliza had learnt all about the divine Charis from one of her oldest friend’s rare letters, but she had not set much store by Sally Jersey’s prophecy that Alverstoke would marry a girl who had not yet attained her twentieth birthday. Sally might say that it was always so with hardened bachelors, but she fancied she knew her brother rather better than Sally did, and she had dismissed the prophecy as a mere on-dit.

Dining tête-à-tête with him, she was careful to evince little curiosity about the Misses Merriville, merely saying: “I hope you mean to introduce them to me. If they are as delightful as Felix, I don’t wonder at it that you consented to befriend them! How do they go on? Did you contrive to fire them off successfully?”

“Yes, and without the smallest exertion. I had merely to present them to the ton. I wish you might have seen Louisa’s face when they came into the room! She had met Frederica already, and was agreeably surprised, I fancy, to discover that she is neither in the first blush of youth, nor a beauty, but a passably goodlooking young woman, with a great deal of commonsense, and a somewhat masterful disposition. Louisa was therefore unprepared for Charis.” A reminiscent smile curled his lips. “I suppose I must have seen the Beauties of close on twenty seasons, but I must own I have never seen one comparable to Charis Merriville.” He raised his wineglass, and drank a little. “Face and figure are perfection, and her expression most winning. Impossible to find a fault! Even her carriage is graceful; and it is universally agreed that her manners are particularly pleasing.”

Startled, and considerably dismayed, Eliza said: “Good gracious! I must certainly meet this paragon!”

“You may do so tomorrow, if you choose. She will be at the assembly the Seftons are holding, I imagine. You had better accompany me to it—if only to spare me the gush of reproaches Maria Sefton would swamp me with for not having brought you. I shall be astonished if Charis doesn’t take your breath away.”

Unlike her sisters, Eliza had never tried to provide her only brother with an eligible wife. Relations between them had always been amicable, even mildly affectionate, but no strong ties bound any member of the Dauntry family to another. Happily married to her John Kentmere, absorbed in her progeny, and rarely visiting London, she had little interest in Alverstoke’s future, and had once infuriated Louisa by saying that his marriage was no concern of hers. But installed once more in Alverstoke House, picking up the threads of her old life, she did feel some concern, for it seemed to her that he was on the verge of contracting an alliance which could only end in disaster. However beautiful she might be, this school-room-miss of his would become a dead bore to him within a year of their marriage—probably even sooner! She had set no great store by Lady Jersey’s disclosures, and even less by an impassioned letter from Louisa, recommending her to try what her supposed influence over Alverstoke would do to save him (and the Family) from a shocking
mesalliance;
but the dithyramb Alverstoke had sung in praise of Charis Merriville had the effect of sending her off next day to visit Augusta. With all her faults, Augusta did not want for sense or judgment.

Lady Jevington received her with temperate pleasure, enquired, with meticulous civility, after the health of her family, and expressed the hope that she would replenish her wardrobe while she was in London. “For I should be failing in my duty as your eldest sister, Eliza, if I did not tell you that that outmoded gown you are wearing gives you a very off appearance,” she said. “No doubt you have come to London for that purpose.”

“Well, I haven’t,” replied Eliza. “I’ve come to discover if it’s true that Vernon had fallen head over ears in love with some highly finished piece of nature not yet out of her teens.”

“Not to my knowledge,” replied Lady Jevington, with majestic cairn. She favoured her sister with a thin smile, in which tolerance and contempt were nicely mixed. “I collect that Louisa has been writing to you. Louisa is a fool.”

“Yes, but Sally is no fool, and she too wrote to me that Vernon stands within an ace of committing what I can’t but feel would be the greatest imprudence of his life!”

“I have never,” stated Lady Jevington, “rated Sarah Fane’s understanding above the average.”

“Augusta, he described the girl to me last night in such terms as I have never heard him use before!”

“He was hoaxing you,” said Lady Jevington.

Eliza frowned in perplexity. “Do yon mean to say that she is not so excessively lovely? But, if that’s so, why should he—”

“I do not think I have ever seen a more beautiful girl than Charis Merriville—and rarely one who is more prettily behaved,” pronounced her ladyship judicially. “She made an instant hit when she appeared at Ver-non’s ball, which was not wonderful, and now has more than half the eligible bachelors languishing at her feet. Gregory,” she added, with unruffled composure, “is one of them. But nothing will come of that, and I am happy to know that his first fancy should have alighted on a modest girl of excellent principles. I daresay it will do him a great deal of good.”

Eliza said impatiently: “Yes, but Vernon? If he is not in love with the girl, what in the world prevailed upon him to bestir himself, not only on her behalf, but on her brothers’ as well? It is not at all like him!”

“I do not pretend to be in his confidence, but I am tolerably well-acquainted with him, and I believe he presented the Merriville girls merely to spite Louisa, and Lucretia. That Woman,” said Augusta, with awful restraint, “was not behindhand in badgering him to hold a ball at Alverstoke House, to mark Chloë’s come-out, as well as Jane’s. One may guess the means he used to compel Louisa to chaperon the girls! He is at liberty to indulge his freakish whims as he pleases, but I consider that his conduct was most reprehensible. Indeed, I strongly advised him not to yield to Louisa’s and Lucretia’s importunities.”

Restraining the impulse to remind her that Alverstoke had never been known to listen to sisterly advice, Eliza said: “I dare say he might have invited the Merrivilles to his ball to punish Louisa, but that doesn’t account for the rest of it. One of his so-called wards—Felix: the most delightful urchin!—invaded the house yesterday, and it was perfectly plain that he looks upon Vernon as a certain source of indulgences. He doesn’t stand in the least awe of him either, which tells its own tale. Now, why, pray, should Vernon, who is utterly indifferent to
our
children, interest himself in the Merrivilles, if not because he wishes to make himself acceptable to their sister?”

“That, no doubt, is the reason. But unless I am much mistaken it is the elder and not the younger sister for whom he has conceived a decided tendre.”

Eliza stared at her. “Good God, how is this? He told me she was passably goodlooking, not in her first youth, full of commonsense, and masterful!”

“Very true,” agreed Lady Jevington. “I believe her to be some four-and-twenty years of age, but from the circumstances of her mother’s early demise, which left her the virtual mistress of the household, one would suppose her to be older. I think her a young woman of character, and I have come to the conclusion that she will suit Alverstoke very well.”

“Augusta!” Eliza gasped. “A woman who is no more than
passably goodlooking
for Alverstoke? You must be all about in your head! When, pray, has he had a tendre for any but regular out-and-outers?”

“And when, my dear Eliza, have any of these out-and-outers, as you call them, failed to bore him within a few months?” retorted Augusta. “Frederica cannot, I own, hold a candle to Charis, in respect of beauty; but she has a great deal of countenance, and a liveliness of mind which Charis lacks. They are both agreeable, well-bred girls, but Charis is a lovely ninnyhammer, while Frederica, in my judgment, is a woman of superior sense.”

A trifle stunned by this measured pronouncement, Eliza said: “Augusta, am
I
all about in my head? Do you seriously mean to tell me that you think one of Fred Merriville’s daughters an eligible match for Alverstoke?”

“It is not, perhaps, the match I should have chosen for him,” admitted her ladyship. “Upon reflection, however, I believe it will do very well. Unless you are prepared to face with equanimity the prospect of seeing that Block, Endymion, step into Alverstoke’s shoes, you will agree that it is of the highest importance that Alverstoke should marry, and set up his nursery, before he becomes wholly abandoned to the single state. I think I may say that I have spared no pains to introduce to his notice every eligible female of my acquaintance. I shall not attempt to deny that my exertions were useless—as were Louisa’s! But that was to be expected!” she said, momentarily descending from her Olympian heights. “If I were to tell you, Eliza, of Louisa’s folly—!” She checked herself, resuming her dignity, and said: “But that is of no moment. Suffice it to say that neither her nor my efforts were attended by success.” She paused again, but continued after a moment, with austere resolution, and fixing her sister with a quelling eye. “My natural partiality,” she stated, “has never blinded me to the faults in Alverstoke’s character, but much as I deprecate them, I feel bound to say, in common justice, that they are not to be laid wholly at his own door. Setting aside the indulgence that was granted him from the hour of his birth, he has been so much courted, flattered, and positively
hunted,
that much as one may deplore the cynicism with which he regards females one cannot wonder at it. I assure you, Eliza, I have frequently
blushed
for my sex! And that, I fancy, is why he seems bent on fixing his interest with Frederica. You may depend upon it that I have closely observed her. But if you were to ask me whether she is aware of his interest in her, or would welcome an offer from him, I should be obliged to reply that I do not know. All I can say is that I have never seen her throw out the smallest lure to him, or betray by the least sign that she cherishes for him any warmer feeling than a cousinly friendship.”