Frederica (48 page)

“You are a mighty poor liar, my child,” he commented. “That may stand to your credit, but you must learn to be more skilful before you play off your tricks on such an old hand as I am! Oh, no, pray don’t dissolve into tears! I have the greatest dislike of weeping females. I’ll give you a piece of good advice: never treat your flirtations
au serieux,
and always conduct them with discretion!”

She tried to smile, but it was a wan effort. The familiar and paralysing sense of boredom began to creep over him; he repressed it, and said with a faint smile: “Blue-devilled? I have every sympathy with you, and will present you with another leaf from my book: these little affairs can be delightful, or they can be painful, but they don’t last, believe me! You won’t, of course, but you should: I speak from a vast experience. Yes, isn’t it shocking? Don’t tell your aunt!”

She gave a hysterical laugh, but said: “It isn’t like
that
!”

“Of course not: it never is!” he replied.

“You don’t understand!” she exclaimed bitterly.

“That,” said his lordship, with a touch of acidity, “is a foolish accusation which lacks even the saving grace of originality! Every generation, my child, has said, or thought, that the preceding one was devoid of understanding or experience. Let us turn to another subject! When I left Hertfordshire Felix was sitting out of bed for the first time, playing cards with Jessamy. As he was also expressing a strong desire for a mutton-chop I fancy that it won’t be many days before he is restored to you.”

She attempted another smile, but it conveyed little gladness; and it was almost listlessly that she murmured: “Oh! Dear Felix! Such a relief!”

Alverstoke found her so exasperating that he was obliged to bite back a caustic rejoinder. It would certainly make her start to cry again, and lachrymose females ranked high on the list of his pet abominations. He thought it prudent to take his leave without disclosing the Alver-scheme to her. It was obvious that the silly girl had fallen violently in love with his equally silly cousin, and would probably revolt him with an attack of the vapours if she learned that she was shortly to be removed from Endymion’s ambit.

He was inclined to think that no very serious thought of matrimony had entered Endymion’s head, for as he had no idea that he was supposed to wish his heir to make an advantageous marriage he could not imagine why (if Endymion did want to marry Charis) the silly cawker had not applied to him for support. Endymion invariably laid all his problems before him, and he must know that his cousin’s influence would be of paramount importance. Probably he was passing through one of his fits of gallantry, and would soon recover from it. However, since Charis seemed to be developing a lasting passion, and was just the sort of girl to go into a decline if her hopes were blighted, the sooner the affair was nipped in the bud the better it would be: he would drop a word of warning in Endymion’s ear.

Since he had never done such a thing before this deviation from the normal operated powerfully on Endymion, but scarcely in accordance with his lordship’s intention. Endymion carried the news of the intervention to Charis, who turned as white as her shift, and exclaimed: “I knew it! He means to separate us! Oh, what are we to do?”

“Well, what if he does?” said Harry, on whom the lovers’ troubles and indecisions were beginning to pall. “You’re not dependent on him, are you, Endymion?”

“No—that is, he makes me a devilish handsome allowance, y’know. I’ve about £ 2000 a year of my own—and the expectancy, of course, but to tell you the truth I never set much store by that. Well, what I mean is, who’s to say he won’t get buckled himself?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t think he would! Not at his age!” said Harry. “And if he doesn’t he can’t disinherit you, can he? Any more than he can have you sent off in a crack to foreign parts! I’m dashed if I can see why you should be in such a quake!”

“It ain’t that,” growled Endymion. “I mean, I’m not afraid of Cousin Vernon! It’s—it’s his sisters, and my mother, and Frederica! I daresay you don’t know.”

This inarticulate appeal for understanding touched a chord of sympathy. Harry had had no personal experience of the trials which Endymion so obviously feared, but he had the instinctive male dread of feminine storms. He said, in an awed voice: “Jupiter! I hadn’t thought of that! Lord, what a dust they would kick up!”

Endymion cast him a look of gratitude. “Ay, that’s it. Not my mother,” he added scrupulously. “Never kicks up a dust, precisely.” “Well, if
that’s
so—”

“Takes to her bed,” said Endymion simply. “Spasms! Got a weak heart. If I was to tell her I was going to marry Charis, she’d go Into strong convulsions: always does when any of us puts her in a stew! Then Cousin Harriet would send for that devilish doctor of hers, Hal-ford, and I should have the pair of them ringing a peal over me as if I was a dashed murderer! Devilish unpleasant, y’know! Mustn’t drive one’s mother to pop off the hooks: shocking thing to do! Besides, I don’t want to :fond of her!”

“Oh, no, no!” Charis said quickly. “I wouldn’t have you do so for the world! Poor Mrs Dauntry, how can she help but feel as she does? Oh, how sorry I am for her!”

Deeply moved, Endymion seized her hand, and kissed it fervently, informing her that she was an angel. Her brother, less enthusiastic, recommended her not to be mawkish; and told Endymion, bristling in defence of his adored, that he would sing a different tune when she began to be sorry for him too. “Which is what she will do, you mark my words!” he said. “
You
may call it angelic to be for ever trying to please everyone, and being sorry for those she
can’t
please, but I don’t! Addle-brained is what
I
call it!”

“Oh, no!” uttered Charis imploringly.

“Oh, yes!” he retorted. “Told you so before! If you don’t take care, Charis, you’ll end by being sorry for yourself! All for the want of a little resolution! What if Mrs Dauntry and Frederica don’t like it? They’ll come round! And you needn’t look at me as ugly as bull-beef, Endymion, because I’ll say what I choose to my own sister!”

At this point, a diversion was created by Charis, who took the strongest exception to his unflattering description of her beloved Endymion’s noble demeanour, and rose to his defence with unaccustomed vigour. During the interchange which followed, Endymion, conceding to Harry his brotherly rights, became plunged in profound thought, from which he emerged presently, to startle the combatants by saying: “Ay, so they would!” Perceiving that the two Merrivilles were staring at him with a sad want of comprehension, he added: “What you said, Harry! My mother, and Frederica! Come round! What’s more, if we could do the thing—get the knot tied!—without either of ‘em knowing it, we should have it blocked at both ends! Well, what I mean is—no sense in kicking up a dust! no sense in having spasms! Come to think of it, no sense in getting me transferred, or sent on a curst mission, or some such devilish thing! Stands to reason!”

Charis’s soft eyes glowed with admiration of this powerful ratiocination, but Harry was unimpressed.

“No, and there’s no sense in airmongering either! How the deuce could you get the knot tied without everyone’s knowing all about it? If you’ve got a notion of eloping with Charis, I’ll tell you to your head it won’t fadge! And if you think I’ll help my sister to sink herself below reproach, a mighty pretty notion you must have of me!”

“Never, never would I do such a thing!” declared Charis.

“No!” said Endymion, flushing darkly. “And a mighty pretty notion
you
must have of
me,
Harry, if you think I would either! Talk of loose screws—! I wonder at it that you should allow Charis even to exchange the time of day with me!”

“Oh, take a damper!” said Harry. “Of course I don’t -think it! But if you haven’t got elopement in mind, what
have
you got? I’m dashed if I can see any other way of doing the thing secretly!” “No,” agreed Endymion gloomily. “Well, for God’s sake—!”

“Haven’t got anything in mind,” explained Endymion. “Just thinking it would be a devilish good thing if it
could
be done.”

Luckily, since Harry, striving to recover his breath, showed alarming signs of allowing his feelings to overcome him, the symposium was brought to an end by the clock on the mantel-shelf, which, inexorably striking the hour, recalled Endymion to the realization of his military duties. Taking hurried leave, he fled.

“If ever I met such a knock-in-the-cradle!” exploded Harry. “ ‘Just thinking it would be a devilish good thing if it
could
be done—!’ Yes, and another devilish good thing would be if either of you had as much rumgumption as a couple of sparrows! Only you haven’t, and it’s my belief you never will have!” Charis burst into tears.

XXVI

Except that Harry, repenting of his harsh words, became reconciled with his sister, matters were in the same unsatisfactory state when the Hertfordshire party returned to London three days later.

Before her feet had touched the flagway, Frederica saw that Charis was looking pale and fagged; but in the bustle of arrival there was no opportunity for any private talk. Not until the baggage had been carried in, the servants greeted, Felix’s medicine unpacked, and Felix himself persuaded, not without difficulty, to retire to bed, to recover from the journey, was Frederica able to turn her attention to her sister. She then invited her to come to her own bedchamber, to help her to unpack her portmanteau, saying: “It seems as if I hadn’t seen you for months! I hope to heaven we never have to live through another such period!”

“Oh, no!” said Charis, shuddering. “It must have been so dreadful for you!”

“Well, it was,” admitted Frederica. “Indeed, if it hadn’t been for Alverstoke I don’t know how I should have managed. I can never be sufficiently grateful to him. So firm and patient with Felix! Such an unfailing support to me, particularly during those two days when I feared—But don’t let us talk of it! My dear, have you been ill? You are looking positively whey-faced!”

“Oh, no! I am perfectly well! It’s the hot weather.”

“Very likely. I have been feeling it very much myself, even in the country: horridly languid, and a sort of lowness and oppression. It must have been far worse here. Indeed, when we got between the houses Jessamy said it was like driving into an oven. Never mind! I hope we shall be many miles from London within a few days. Did Alverstoke tell you of the delightful scheme he has made for us?”

“No,” Charis answered, staring at her apprehensively.

“We are to go down to Alver, and to stay there for as long as we choose!” said Frederica, beginning to unpack her portmanteau. “I daresay I ought to have declined the offer, but it was too tempting! so exactly what the boys will like! It is in Somerset, you know, and quite near Bath, which is an advantage.—Oh, dear, just look at this muslin! I shall coax you to do my packing when we set out for Alver!” Receiving no reply, she looked round, to find that Charis had sunk into a chair, and had buried her face in her hands. “Charis! Dearest, what’s the matter?”

“I am so very unhappy!”

“Good God, why?”

“I don’t want to go to Alver!”

Curbing her exasperation, Frederica said calmly: “Do you mean that you had liefer go to the seaside?”

“Oh, no! I don’t wish to go anywhere!”

“Charis, I don’t think you perfectly understand the case,” said Frederica. “It is necessary for Felix’s health to take him out of London. And if this is what London is like during the summer months, so intolerably stuffy and dusty, I am very sure it is necessary for all our healths! Are you thinking that it will be dull? Perhaps you may find it so, after our rakings, but you were not used to think the country dull. I believe Alver is a most beautiful place, too: do you remember what the guide-book said about its park, and its pleasure gardens, and its lake, with all the rare shrubs planted round it? We shall never be tired of sketching there! Alverstoke says that the boys may fish the trout-stream, too—I wish you might have seen Jessamy, when he learned of the scheme! You wouldn’t want to deny him such a treat! After all, love, neither he nor Felix grudged us ours, did they?”

“Oh, no, no! I didn’t mean—Of course they must go! If only I might remain here! I thought perhaps I could stay in Harley Street. If Aunt Seraphina goes with you, poor Aunt Amelia will be glad to have me, I daresay.”

“Aunt Seraphina will not go with us, for I don’t mean to ask her. I see no need for any chaperon, and if I
did I shouldn’t call upon her services, for I’m quite out of charity with her! As for leaving you with Aunt Amelia, you may put that notion out of your head!”

“Oh, Frederica—!”

“If you don’t want to drive me into a pelter, stop
moaning
.!” snapped Frederica. “You may stop shamming it, too! Upon my word, Charis, I wonder at you! What you wish to do is to remain in London, making a cake of yourself over Endymion Dauntry, and well I know it! I should suppose that that is what you have been doing while I was away! I wish you may not have set people in a bustle!”

“I
love
Endymion!” declared Charis, rearing up her head. “And he loves me!”

“Then I see no occasion for all these die-away airs,” responded Frederica prosaically.

Charis started up, eagerness in her face. “Do you mean—can you mean that you consent to our marriage?”

“There’s no saying what I might do, if your attachment proved to be more lasting than any of your previous ones,” replied Frederica lightly.