Frederica (46 page)

“No such thing! Haunting it, indeed! But why you should prefer that fribble, Navenby, to Endymion I’m dashed if I know! If I were you, Freddy, I’d give him my blessing! I don’t say it’s a brilliant match, but it’s perfectly eligible. And if Charis don’t care for his being a nodcock why should you? At least he’s a right one, and not a man-milliner!”

“And if he were removed from her sight she would forget him within the month,” Frederica answered. “Don’t let us fall into a dispute! We shall never agree on
that
subject. Tell me instead what Charis is doing today! Is she with Lady Elizabeth?”

“No, but she’s not alone. Chloë Dauntry is spending the day with her, and they were going to walk in the park this morning. I daresay they have been pittle-pattling all the afternoon!”

“And I wish your idiotish cousin may not have been their escort!” Frederica said, later, when recounting this to Alverstoke.

He was amused. “I imagine that their escort—if they had one—may quite as well have been my far from idiotish secretary. Is that affair likely to prove lasting?”

She glanced quickly up at him, “Arc you opposed to it?”

“My dear girl, what possible concern is it of mine? I own I think Charles might do much better for himself, and I am very sure that he will meet with formidable opposition from Chloë’s fond momma. I am even of the opinion that he would be well-advised not to rivet himself before his feet are firmly set on his particular ladder; but I haven’t the remotest intention of meddling.”

“I’m glad. I agree with you, too—and Chloë is too young to be thinking of marriage—except, of course, that she
is
thinking of it! Too young for a formal engagement. But I fancy that their attachment
will
prove to be lasting. As for Mrs Dauntry, I know exactly how she may be brought to consent to the marriage. In fact, I have an excellent scheme in my head!”

The Marquis eyed her with foreboding. “If your scheme involves me, Frederica,—”

“Well, it does, but only a very little! How long is it since you saw Diana?”

“I should think it must be a very long time, for I can’t immediately recall anyone of that name,” he confessed. “But you know how wretched my memory is! Who—er—
is
Diana, and in what way is she concerned in the business?”

“Alverstoke!” she exclaimed. “She is Chloë’s sister, of course! How
can
you have forgotten that?”

“Oh, easily!” he assured her, adding, with an air of mild triumph: “But now that you’ve put me in mind of it I do remember that there were three of them!”

Her eyes danced, but she said severely: “You know, sir, you
are
an abominable person!”

“Yes, indeed I do! You have frequently told me so, and I have complete faith in your judgment.”

She choked on one of her involuntary chuckles. “Moonshine! Do, pray, be serious for a minute!”

“I am utterly serious.”

“And I cut my eye-teeth years ago!” she retorted. “Stop joking me, and pay attention! Unless I very much mistake the matter, Diana will become the rage when she makes her come-out. My dear sir, she is the most promising girl! She and Endymion favour Mrs Dauntry, and if you mean to tell me that Mrs Dauntry was not a diamond of the first water when she was young, you may spare your breath! Furthermore, it is of no consequence at all when a
female
is bird-witted—”

“Is she?” he interrupted.

“Oh, yes! a lovely widgeon!” She paused, and said carefully: “That is to say, her understanding is no more than—than moderate! It doesn’t signify: she will take just as Charis has, and will very likely achieve a splendid alliance—with just a very little help from you! You will naturally give a ball for her—”

“I
beg
your pardon? Did you say
naturally
?”

“Certainly I did! You gave one for Chloë, remember!”

“I remember nothing of the kind. I gave a ball for you and Charis.”

“Yes, and with the most ignoble motive! However, I am too much obliged to you to say more on that head. The thing is that you were thought to have given it for Jane Buxted, and for Chloë Dauntry, so
naturally
you will do the same for Diana!”

“And shall I naturally do it for Jane’s sisters?” he enquired.

She wrinkled her brow, considering this. “I must own,” she acknowledged candidly, “that that is a very
daunting
thought! But recollect that
they
have a brother who is well able to provide for them, and—to do him justice!—would much prefer to do so. What I wish
you
will do, cousin, when the time comes—and assuming that Chloë is still of her present mind—is to suggest to Mrs Dauntry that it is of the first importance to dispose of her, before she fires Diana off! Which it will be, if Chloë has formed no other attachment at the end of her second season. So do bear it in mind, I beg of you!”

He looked down at her, with his glinting smile. “I can’t. You must remind me, Frederica. But why do you care?”

“Do you mean that it’s no concern of mine? It isn’t, of course, but I like them both so much—and one can’t but care for what becomes of persons one holds in affection, and try to help them.”

She seemed to take it for granted that he shared her sentiments. He said nothing, but when he thought the matter over he could only suppose that there were very few people whom he held in affection—no one, in fact, for whom he was prepared to put himself out. He had more than once come to a friend’s financial rescue, but there was little virtue in that: such assistance had entailed no sacrifice on his part. Charles? Yes, he was fond of Charles, and he meant to foster his career, but there was little virtue in that either: it would be an easy thing to do. The only person on whose behalf he had really exerted himself was Felix, and he had done that because he loved Frederica. Or had he? If Frederica had not been in question, would he have handed Felix over to the unknown Mrs Hucknall, an ignorant woman, skilled in nothing but midwifery? No, he would not! He had no real responsibility for either of the Merriville boys, but he had grown to be fond of them: perhaps because they interested him, perhaps because they had such a touching faith in his ability to solve all problems, and never doubted his willingness to do so. None of his sisters had desired, or needed, his help in rearing her offspring; but, little though she might think it, Frederica did need it. If he had his way, Felix should go to school, and he would find a suitable tutor for Jessamy, not some needy usher ready to undertake the education of two boys of widely differing ages and abilities.

While these plans were revolving in his lordship’s head, another of Frederica’s suitors, equally convinced that her lawless brothers stood in urgent need of guidance, was on his way to Monk’s Farm, and arrived there two days after Harry’s visit.

He entered the parlour to find Jessamy seated at the table, with his books spread about him, and Alverstoke frowning over the obscure passage on which he had been consulted. He exclaimed: “
You,
sir?
Still
?
I
had thought you must have been at Ascot!”

The Marquis, looking up, said, in repelling accents : “Then you were mistaken! What the devil brings you here, Buxted?”

“I have come to see how my little cousin goes on, of course—and to offer my services to his poor sister. A shocking business! I blame myself for not having asserted my authority, and insisted on his leaving that enclosure, and coming back with me to the carriage.” The Marquis had been leaning one hand on the back of Jessamy’s chair, but he transferred it to Jessamy’s shoulder. Obedient to its pressure, Jessamy remained silent. “You blame yourself quite unnecessarily, Carlton,” said his lordship. “You had no authority, and the responsibility was—and still is—mine. That is why you find me here. For the rest, Felix is going on as well as could be expected; and no doubt Frederica will be obliged to you for your offer of service—which, if I had been so entirely lost to all sense of propriety as to have abandoned my ward in these circumstances, would have been most opportune.”

Lord Buxted was neither dependent upon his uncle nor afraid of him, but whenever he found himself in his company he was invariably made to feel much more like a callow youth than the head of his house, and the wise guide of his brother and sisters which he knew himself to be. Colouring, he said: “Oh, if I had known that you were here, sir—! Not but what—Well, I am excessively glad to hear that the poor little boy is on the mend! It must be a lesson to him, though no one would have wished him to suffer so severe a punishment. I wonder, Jessamy, if you would conduct me to his room? I have brought him a book to read, and a diverting puzzle.”

“Oh, no!” Jessamy said involuntarily. “I mean, it is most kind of you, sir—he will be very grateful—but—” He stopped, as Alverstoke’s long fingers gripped his shoulder.

“I am afraid I can’t permit you to see him,” said Alverstoke. “The doctor’s orders are that he is to have no visitors yet—not to be excited in any way!”

“Oh, certainly, but I assure you I don’t mean to excite him! He and I are quite old friends, you know!”

“Hardly such old friends as he and Harry,” said Alverstoke dryly. “We did allow Harry to see him, but regretted it, since it led to a set-back. Jessamy, go upstairs, and tell Frederica that Buxted is here!”

Left alone with his uncle, Buxted looked frowningly at him, and said: “I must say, sir, it seems very surprising to me that you should have remained here all this time! I should have thought—since I collect that Miss Winsham remains in London—”

“Oh, are you worrying about the proprieties?” said Alverstoke. “Let me reassure you! I am putting up at the Sun, in Hemel Hempstead—and damnably uncomfortable it is! However, I hope to be able to return to London within a very few days now: as soon, in fact, as Felix can dispense with my valet’s services.”

Buxton almost goggled at him “
Your valet,
sir? Waiting on
Felix
?
Well, I am astonished that you could spare him!”

“I can’t,” said Alverstoke. “That’s why I’m tied by the heels.” He turned, as Frederica came into the room, and smiled at her, a satirical gleam in his eyes. “Ah, Frederica! I knew you would wish to see Buxted, who has come all this way to enquire after Felix!”

“Yes, indeed!” she responded promptly. “How very kind it is of you, cousin!”

He grasped her hand, and held it, saying: “I could not stay away!”

The Marquis, having observed this through his quizzing-glass, and with unruffled calm, recommended Frederica to furnish him with the whole history of Felix’s illness, and withdrew.

For this desertion he was taken roundly to task as soon as Buxted had departed. “How
could
you have left me alone with him?” demanded Frederica indignantly. “The—the shabbiest thing!”

“But you have told me a score of times that you are long past the age of needing a chaperon!”

“Chaperon! Of course I am! I didn’t mean that, and you know it! But to abandon me in that heartless way—”

“Not at all! I take great credit to myself for
not
being heartless enough to deny him the solace of the tête-à-tête he so plainly desired. Poor fellow, he deserved some reward for his devotion! Did he renew his offer for your hand?”

“Yes, he did! Nothing could have been more horrid, for he put me in a flame, talking about Felix as he did, but I had to keep my tongue between my teeth, because I know he meant only to be kind, and helpful—besides bringing Felix a book, and a puzzle which would make him feverish again (if it didn’t drive him out of his mind), if I were such a ninnyhammer as to give it to him, which, of course, I shan’t, and saying how happy he would be to take my
burdens
on his own shoulders—as though the boys could ever be burdens to me! It was all I could do to refuse his offer civilly! And now I wish I hadn’t been civil, because he says he shall not despair! He is as stupid as Endymion!”

“No, no!” said Alverstoke soothingly. “Nobody could be as stupid as Endymion!”

“Well, if you can think of anything stupider than to make me an offer of marriage at such a time as this—!” she exclaimed. “Would
you
do such an idiotish thing? Of course you would not! I don’t believe even Endymion would!”

He looked at her for a moment, an oddly twisted smile on his lips. Then he said: “I can’t answer for Endymion, but for myself—no, Frederica, I would not!”

XXV

The Marquis left Hertfordshire three days later. When he announced his decision to Frederica, he thought, for an instant, that there was a flicker of dismay in her eyes; but she answered almost at once, and with composure: “Yes, indeed, sir! My conscience had begun to trouble me, for there is no longer the least need for you to kick your heels here, and however much
we
may enjoy your company,
you
must be bored to death!”

“Do you know, Frederica, the odd thing is that I am not in the least bored,” he told her.

She laughed. “To be sure, you have no time to be bored, have you? If you are not taking me for a walk or a drive, or entertaining Felix, you are being coaxed—if not bludgeoned!—into helping Jessamy with his classical studies!”

“That, I admit, is a severe trial, but I console myself with the reflection that it is doing me a great deal of good. I have become shockingly rusty! Nor, I fear, did I ever apply myself, as Jessamy does.”

“Well, I can believe
that,
at all events!” she said, twinkling. “You would naturally be enchanted to be granted the opportunity to rub up your scholarship! But don’t attempt to gammon me into thinking that you are equally enchanted to be obliged to emerge from your bedchamber long,
long
before noon!”