Frederica (47 page)

“Oh, I never keep town-hours in the country!” he returned.

“How detestable it is that you always have an answer!” she observed. “Now, do, pray, let us be serious for a moment! I can never hope to express to you my deep obligation for—”

“You have now had your moment!” he said. “And as it is apparent to me that you have nothing of the smallest importance to say, I don’t scruple to interrupt you. What
I
have to say is very much more to the point! I have had some conversation with Elcot, and I learn from him—
not,
to my chagrin, from you—that you have the intention of carrying Felix off to some seaside resort. It won’t do, Frederica! At this season you would have the greatest difficulty to obtain a suitable lodging at even the most unfashionable place; and if you did obtain it you would find yourself jostled by shabby-genteels, mushrooms, and April-squires!” “But surely there must be quiet resorts!” “No doubt, but I don’t know of them, and nor do you! By the time we had discovered one, the summer would, be half-over. If you are thinking of Worthing, put it out of your mind! It is expensive, and all the dowdies and dowagers of the ton engage accommodation there from year to year. I have a far more eligible scheme to propose to you, which is that you should remove, with your family, to Alver, and remain there for as long as you choose.”

“To Alver?” she repeated, startled. “But—but do you mean Alver Park—which the guide books describe as your principal seat?”

“Yes, of course I do. I have had it in mind to send Felix there ever since I realized that it would be necessary to take him out of London. It is situated within twelve miles of Bath, so that he could, at need, go there to drink the waters, or to take the hot bath, or whatever is recommended. It is very much quieter than any watering-place, but will offer both him and Jessamy much more entertainment. I’ll tell my people to look after that. They will find several hacks which they may ride, and if they like to fish the trout stream they have my permission to do so.”

“Oh, how much Jessamy would love it!” she exclaimed. “Thank you, thank you! How good you are! But of course I must not accept such an offer! Don’t tempt me!”

“Why must you not accept it? Is it your custom to refuse all invitations?”

“No, no, but—but this is different! We are already too much beholden to you, and to—”

“Don’t be commonplace, Frederica! it doesn’t become you! Do you feel that there should be a hostess at Alver? Nothing could be easier than to provide one for you! If Miss Winsham doesn’t mean to leave her sister, I have one widowed aunt, two elderly spinster ones, and a collection of cousins, any one of whom would be delighted to take up residence at Alver! Most of them have been trying to do so for years.”

She was obliged to laugh. “And then you would never be rid of them!”

“You underrate me! Failing Miss Winsham, I’m inclined to think I will install one of my aunts—or, perhaps, invite her to stay, if I should wish to visit Alver myself. Not that I think it at all necessary: my housekeeper there, who knew the place before I was born, will take excellent care of you and Charis, and cosset the boys to death. You may remain for as long or as short a time as you please—and pray don’t imagine that I am conferring a favour on you! the boot is on the other leg: I shall be glad to have the house occupied. So let us consider that settled!”

“But—”

He sighed wearily: “If you are wondering what people may say, let me assure you the likeliest comment will be that it is just like me to rid myself of my troublesome wards by packing them all off to Alver at the earliest opportunity.”

“You always contrive to leave me without a word to say. I don’t feel I ought to yield, but I shall, because it would be just the thing for Felix, and for Jessamy, too. It is high time I made them my chief concern. I’ve neglected them for Charis, and it was very wrong of me. Quite—quite useless, as well. I hoped so much that she would have contracted an eligible alliance!”

“Don’t despair! She may yet do so.”

She agreed, but she knew that she would be unable to give Charis another London season, and her voice lacked conviction.

“There is one other matter which I wish you will consider,” Alverstoke said. “I don’t know what your thoughts may be on the subject, but I am of the opinion that it is time the boys were provided with another tutor—particularly Jessamy. That he should be grateful for such help as so indifferent a scholar as I am can give him tells its own tale. As for Felix, if Harry means to send him to school in the autumn, he should be prepared—and, in any event, he has run wild for long enough. Oh, don’t look so harassed, my dear! It is for you to decide: I am merely offering you my advice—thereby rendering myself even more abominable!”

She shook her head. “No, that you are not! You are very right, and it is a further proof of my neglect that I shouldn’t have attended to the matter weeks ago. Tell me what will be best for me to do! If we were to be fixed in London, I imagine it would be an easy matter, but—”

“The best thing for you to do is nothing, but to leave it to me to find a tutor scholarly enough to satisfy Jessamy, yet not so steeped in scholarship that he cannot enter into Jessamy’s other interests; too old to fall in love with Charis, but not so old as to be a dead bore to the boys—”

“Stop, slop!” she cried, throwing up her hands in mock dismay. “An impossible task! And even if it were not I shouldn’t ask it of you, cousin!”

“But how is this?” he enquired, raising his brows. “You did ask it of me!”

“
I
?
Asked you to undertake to engage a tutor for my brothers? That would be the outside of enough! I never did so!”

“When I first made your acquaintance, Frederica, you told me that if I became the boys’ guardian it would be proper for me to do so. You added that there was no reason why I shouldn’t be useful. Remember?”

“No. If I said it I could only have been funning. And my memory is reasonably good—unlike yours, dear sir!”

“Mine is erratic,” he said imperturbably. “I remember only what interests me. I shan’t presume to engage a tutor, but if I can discover an eligible candidate I shall send him to wait on you when you return to London.”

“Thank you,” she said meekly. “I only wish you may not find it a most wearisome task!”

He was quite sure that he would, but events proved him to be wrong. On the day after his arrival in Berkeley Square, when he was going through some papers with his secretary, he said casually: “By-the-by, Charles, I suppose you don’t number amongst your acquaintance anyone willing to undertake the education of Jessamy and Felix? Quite a temporary arrangement—let us say, for three months.”

“Well, no, sir, unless—”

He paused, and Alverstoke, lifting his eyes from the document in his hand, saw that he was looking embarrassed. “Unless what?” he asked. “You don’t mean to tell me that you do know of such a man?”

“N-no, sir. That is, it did occur to me that Septimus might be the very person. But I hardly like to put him forward, and I beg you won’t hesitate to—”

“Septimus?”

“My brother, sir. He is working for a Fellowship, but I know he meant to seek a post as crammer during the Long Vacation, and I should think he would prefer this one to any other—particularly as you mean to establish the Merrivilles at Alver. He could ride over every day, and continue to live at home, which would please my father.”

“Charles, you are a prince of secretaries!” said Alverstoke. “Write to him immediately! That is, if you think he won’t flinch from the task of coping with two such—er—enterprising pupils?”

Charles laughed: “Lord, no, sir! He’ll like ‘em—and I’m pretty confident that they’ll like him. He’s the best of good fellows—no muffin, I promise you! He plays all manner of games, and is fond of field-sports too.” He caught himself up, flushing. “You must judge for yourself, sir! Don’t take my word for it!”

“My dear boy, when have you ever misled me? Invite him to come up on a visit next week! I fancy Felix will be well enough to travel by then, so that he will be able to make Miss Merriville’s acquaintance. Which reminds me that I must call in Upper Wimpole Street tomorrow, to give Charis the latest news of Felix. Don’t let me forget!”

Charis, meanwhile, had been passing through a variety of emotions. Her first agitation had been soothed by Harry’s bracing treatment; but it had been succeeded by alternating fits of hope and despair, not on Felix’s account, but on her own; and by rapid transitions from bliss to dejection. When Endymion was with her (which he frequently was), her troubles were forgotten: he loved her, and he was a rock of strength. To a dispassionate observer his strength might seem to lie partly in his magnificent physique, and partly in his optimistic pronouncements, but Charis was not a dispassionate observer. When Endymion said that she was not to get into the hips, because everything would be all right and tight; or nobly, if rather vaguely, that she must leave it all to him, she was comforted, never doubting the wisdom or the resolution of so God-like a creature. Doubt assailed her when he was not present, not of his perfection, but of the possibility that they would succeed in their aim. Alverstoke assumed the proportions of a malignant magician, who could cause Endymion to be carried out of reach by the waving of a wand; and Frederica was transformed from her beloved sister into her implacable enemy. Fortunately, perhaps, Frederica’s absence, coupled with his own light duties, made it possible for Endymion to visit her often enough to save her senses from becoming wholly disordered. When he presented himself in Upper Wimpole Street it was on the pretext of visiting Harry, or as escort to Chloë, and however suspicious Buddle might be he could scarcely refuse to admit him. Harry, having decided that he was a right one, connived at these manoeuvres, but behaved with what he considered to be the greatest propriety, never absenting himself from the drawing-room for more than half-an-hour when Endymion was in the house. As for Chloë, deeply sympathetic, and attached almost as fondly to Charis as to her brother, she was ready at all tunes to provide Endymion with an excuse for presenting himself in Upper Wimpole Street. In this, providence came to her aid, in the guise of influenza. Mrs Dauntry, laid low by this malady, suffered an attack compared with which all other persons’ attacks were as nothing. Assured of the attendance of her maid and of her devoted cousin, she excluded her daughters from her bedchamber, consigning them to the care of Miss Plumley and of Diana’s governess. But as Chloë had emerged from the schoolroom, and Miss Plumley was fully occupied in the sickroom, neither of these ladies placed any bar in the way of her friendship with Charis, or her expeditions under her brother’s aegis.

It was otherwise with Miss Winsham, who, learning from Mrs Harley how often Endymion was to be found in Upper Wimpole Street, instantly took Charis to task, scolding her so severely that Charis burst into tears, and completing the work of disintegration by warning her that she would be wise to put Endymion out of her head, since Frederica would never consent to such a marriage.

The news, brought by Harry, that Frederica was bent on removing her family from London, struck dismay into both the star-crossed lovers’ hearts. Endymion, the first to recover, said stoutly that he could very well contrive to post down to Ramsgate, or any such seaside resort, to steal (little though he liked such shuffling behaviour) clandestine meetings with Charis; but Charis was filled with tragic forebodings.

It was at this stage that Alverstoke returned to London. Calling in Upper Wimpole Street upon the following day, he was ushered into the drawing-room, to find it occupied only by Charis and Endymion.

The discomfiture of the young couple was patent, and in no way lessened by the raising of his lordship’s quizzing-glass. Endymion, red to the roots of his hair, stammered: “I ca-came to enquire after—after Felix, sir! And to have a word with Harry!”

“Only Harry has just stepped out,” said Charis, courageously supporting him. “But only for a moment, so I begged C-cousin Endymion to wait for his return!”

His lordship, suppressing a desire to laugh, responded with an amiability the stricken pair thought sinister in the extreme: “How fortunate, then, that I should have arrived in time to relieve you of suspense, Endymion! I am glad to be able to tell you that Felix is on the mend, and will, I trust, shortly be well enough to return to London. So now you need not wait any longer! If your errand to Harry is important, may I suggest that you charge Buddle with a message for him? No doubt he will be happy to call at your lodging!”

In the face of this annihilating speech, there was nothing else for Endymion to do than to retire, in the best order possible. A wild idea of disclosing the truth to Alverstoke entered his mind only to be dismissed. For one thing, the message conveyed to him by Charis’s eyes was unmistakeable; for another, he had been taken at a disadvantage, and had had no time in which to prepare his announcement, or to assemble the arguments in favour of a marriage which he knew, on his mother’s authority, would be unacceptable to the Marquis.

When the door shut behind him, the Marquis let his eye-glass fall, and advanced into the room, saying: “In the absence of both your sister and your aunt, Charis, it behooves me to tell you that it is not at all the thing for you to be entertaining young men without even the chaperon age of your brother. In fact, it is quite improper!”

She blushed, trembled, and could only master her voice sufficiently to stammer: “A cousin! Surely—when he is Harry’s friend—and wanted only to know how Felix goes on—!”