Frederica (7 page)

“Lufra, sir,” said Jessamy, a dark flush rising to the roots of his hair. “At least,
I
never did so! It was a silly notion of my sisters;
I
called him Wolf, when he was a puppy! But they would persist, so, in the end, he wouldn’t answer to his right name! And he is
not
a bitch!”

Perceiving that his lordship had been carried out of his depth, Frederica explained the matter to him. “It’s from
The Lady of the Lake,
”
she told him. “I dare say you recall the passage, when the Monarch
bade let loose a gallant stag
?
And Lufra—
whom from Douglas side Nor bribe nor threat could e’er divide, The fleetest hound in all the North, Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. She left the royal hounds midway, And dashing on the antler’d prey, Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank—
”

“
And deep the flowing life-blood drank
!”
interpolated Felix, with relish.

“Stow it!” growled his senior. “It wasn’t a stag at all, sir—merely a young bull, which we had not thought to be dangerous! and as for drinking its life-blood—stuff!”

“No, but you can’t deny that Luff saved you from being gored!” said Frederica. She looked up at Alverstoke. “Only fancy! He was hardly more than a puppy, but he rushed in, and hung on to the bull’s muzzle, while Jessamy scrambled over the gate to safety! And I am very sure that not even the offer of a marrowbone could divide him from Jessamy,
could
it
,
dear Luff?”

Gratified by this tribute, the faithful hound flattened his ears, wagged his tail, and, after uttering a yelp of encouragement, sat panting at her feet. His master, rendered acutely uncomfortable by this passage, would have removed himself, his dog, and his brother from the drawing-room if Frederica had not detained him, saying: “No, pray don’t run away! I wish to make you known to Lord Alverstoke! This is my brother Jessamy, sir, and this is Felix.”

His lordship, acknowledging their bows, found that he was being surveyed: by Jessamy, whom he judged to be about sixteen years of age, measuringly; by Felix, three or four years younger, with the unwavering yet incurious gaze of childhood. He was quite unaccustomed to being weighed up; and there was a decided twinkle in his eyes as he looked the boys over.

Jessamy, he thought, was an exaggerated copy of his sister: his hair was darker than hers, his nose more aquiline, and his mouth and chin determined to the point of obstinacy. Felix still retained the snub-nose and the chubbiness of extreme youth, but he had the same firm chin and direct gaze which characterized his seniors, and even less shyness. It was he who broke the silence, blurting out: “Sir! Do
you
know about the Catch-me-who-can?”

“Of course he doesn’t! Don’t be so rag-mannered!” his brother admonished him. “I beg your pardon, sir: he has windmills in his head!”

“Not windmills: railway locomotives,” replied Alverstoke. He looked down at Felix. “Isn’t that it? Some sort of steam-locomotive?”

“Yes, that’s it!” said Felix eagerly. “Trevithick’s, sir. I don’t mean the Puffing Devil: that ran on the road, but it caught fire, and was burnt.”

“Ay! and a very good thing too!” interjected Jessamy. “Steam-engines on the roads! Why, they would send every horse mad with terror!”

“Oh, pooh! I daresay they would soon grow used to them. Besides, I’m not talking of that one. The one I mean runs on rails—at fifteen miles an hour, and very likely more!” He turned his attention to Alverstoke again. “I
know
it was brought to London, because Mr Rushbury—my godfather—told me so, and how you could ride in it for a shilling. He said it was north of the New Road, and not far, he thought, from Montague House.”

“I believe it was,” said Alverstoke. “From some cause or another I never visited it, but I do seem to recall that the inventor—what did you say his name is?”

“Trevithick! The
first
locomotive he made has five wagons, and it can carry ten tons of iron and seventy men, but only at five miles an hour. It’s in Wales—I forget the name of the place—but the one
here
has one carriage, and—”

“
Will
you bite your tongue, you abominable little bagpipe?” interrupted Jessamy. “Anyone would take you for a regular shabster, rattling on like that, and not allowing Lord Alverstoke to edge in a word!”

Abashed by this rebuke, Felix hastily begged his lordship’s pardon; but Alverstoke, amused by him, said: “Nonsense! I can always edge in a word—when I wish to! There was such a locomotive, Felix, but I am afraid it’s a thing of the past. I rather think that Trevithick hired some ground, near Fitzroy Square, fenced it in, and laid down a circular track. As I recall, it created quite a stir, but although a great many people went to
see
it, few could be persuaded to ride in it—and none at all after a rail broke, and the engine overturned! So it had to be abandoned. It must have been quite ten years ago.” He smiled, seeing the look of disappointment on Felix’s countenance. “I’m sorry! Are you so interested in locomotives?”

“Yes—no—in
engines
!”
stammered Felix. “Steam-power—c-compressed air—! Sir, have you seen the pneumatic lift at that foundry in Soho?”

“No,” said his lordship. “Have you?”

“They wouldn’t let me,” replied Felix sadly. A thought occurred to him; and, fixing his ardent eyes on Alverstoke’s face, he asked, with pent breath: “If you wished to see it—
could
you?”

Frederica, who had resumed her seat, said: “No, no, Felix! Lord Alverstoke does
not
wish to! You mustn’t plague him to take you there!”

She was right: Alverstoke had not the remotest desire to inspect a pneumatic lift, but he found himself unable to resist the pleading look in the eyes raised so hopefully to his. He sat down again, smiling a little ruefully, and replied: “I expect I could. But you must tell me more about it!”

At this, Jessamy, well-aware of what would be the outcome of such an invitation, directed an anguished glance at Frederica, but although her eyes twinkled responsively she made no attempt to silence her small brother.

It might have been a task beyond her power. It was seldom that Felix met with encouragement to expatiate on a subject which few people understood, and most thought boring. His eyes brightening, he dragged up a chair, and tried to explain the principles governing pneumatic lifts. From there it was a small step to the pattern-shop engine, which was driven by air from the blowing-machine in the same foundry; and within a very short space of time Alverstoke was being battered by oscillating cylinders, piston-rods, cross-tails, valve-gears, and blast-pipes. Since Felix’s understanding of these mysteries was naturally imperfect he was somewhat incoherent; and his thirst for knowledge led him to bombard Alverstoke with questions, few of which his lordship could answer satisfactorily. However, he had just enough grasp of the subject to enable him to avoid revolting Felix by posing counter-questions betraying the abysmal ignorance which, in that young gentleman’s opinion, rendered his brothers and sisters contemptible, and to promote him from the status of an irrelevant visitor to that of prime favourite. He was the most intelligent auditor Felix had encountered: a regular right one, who could even be pardoned for saying, apologetically: “You know, Felix, I know more about horses than engines!”

This confession, dimming his lustre a trifle in Felix’s eyes, instantly raised him in Jessamy’s esteem. Jessamy demanded to know whether the turn-out he had noticed in the street, and which he described as having a lot of
sort
about it, belonged to his lordship; and, upon learning that it did, swept his junior aside, and engaged the Marquis in a discussion of the points to be looked for in prime carriage-horses.

Had it been suggested to the Marquis that he should spend half-an-hour with two schoolboys, he would have excused himself without a moment’s hesitation. It was rarely that boredom did not overcome him in any company, but he was not bored. The only son of ceremonious parents, and the youngest of their progeny, he had no experience of family-life as it was enjoyed by the Merrivilles; and since his nephews, produced, when children, in their best clothes for his inspection, and warned of retribution if they did not m
ⁱ
nd their manners, had appeared to him to be as dull-witted as they were inarticulate, he was agreeably surprised by the young Merrivilles. His sisters might not have approved of their frank, easy ways, or of the total want of diffidence which they considered proper in schoolboys, but he thought them a well-mannered and refreshing pair, and encouraged them with a tolerance which would have astonished those who were best acquainted with him.

He liked them, but there was a limit to his endurance, and when Felix, elbowing Jessamy out of the conversation, sought enlightenment on tubular boilers, recoil-engines and screw-propellers, he laughed, and got up, saying: “My dear boy, if you want to know about steamboats, take a trip down the Thames—don’t ask me!” He turned towards Frederica, but before he could take his leave of her the door opened, and two ladies entered the room. He looked round, and the words of farewell died on his lips.

Both ladies wore walking-dresses, but there the resemblance between them ended. One was a gaunt female, of uncertain age and forbidding aspect; the other was the most ravishing girl his lordship, for all his wide experience, had ever laid eyes on. He realized that he was looking at Miss Charis Merriville, and that his secretary had not overrated her beauty.

From her shining head of golden curls to her little arched feet, neatly shod in kid boots, she presented a picture to take any man’s breath away. Her figure was elegant; her ankles well-turned; her complexion had inspired several admirers to liken it to damask roses, or to ripe peaches; her tender mouth was exquisitely curved; her nose, escaping the aquiline, was straight, with delicately carved nostrils; and her eyes, which gazed innocently upon the world, were of a heavenly blue, and held an expression of candour, and the hint of a wistful smile. She wore a modest bonnet with a curtailed poke; and her dress was concealed by an azure blue kerseymere pelisse. The Marquis’s hand groped instinctively for his quizzing-glass; and Frederica, observing this with sisterly satisfaction, introduced him to her aunt.

Miss Seraphina Winsham, having had the introduction repeated to her in stentorian accents by her nephews, subjected his lordship to a hostile stare, and uttered, repulsively: “I daresay!” She than added: “Oh, go away, do!” but as this was apparently addressed to Lufra, who was frisking about her, his lordship stood his ground. The slight bow he made won no other response than a curt nod, and an even more repelling stare. Miss Winsham, informing Frederica darkly that it was just as she had expected, stalked out of the room.

“Oh, dear!” said Frederica. “She’s in one of her twitty moods! What has put her all on end, Charis? Oh, forgive me!—Lord Alverstoke—my sister!”

Charis smiled at his lordship, and gave him her hand. “How do you do? It was a
very
civil young man, Frederica, in Hookham’s Library, who got a book down from the shelf for me, because I couldn’t quite reach it. He was most obliging, and even dusted it with his handkerchief before he gave it to me; but my aunt thought him a coxcomb. And they were unable to supply us with
Ormond,
so I brought away the
Knight of St John
instead, which I daresay we shall like quite as well.”

These words were spoken in a soft, placid voice; and the Marquis, under whose critical eyes the beauties of many seasons had passed, noted with approval that this one, the most stunning he had yet beheld, used no arts to attract, but, on the contrary, seemed to be unconscious of her charms. As one who had figured for years as the most brilliant catch on the Matrimonial Market, he was accustomed to meet with every artifice designed to ensnare him; and it was with approbation that he recognized the younger Miss Merriville’s unconcern. He asked her how she liked London; she replied that she liked it very well; but her attention was otherwhere, and she made no effort to pursue this opening, saying instead, in mildly reproachful accents: “Oh, Felix-love, you’ve torn a button from your coat!”

“Oh, botheration!” responded Felix, hunching an impatient shoulder. “It don’t signify!”

“Oh, no, not a bit!” she agreed. “Frederica made the tailor supply us with another set, don’t you recall? I’ll sew one on for you in a trice. Only come with me! you can’t go about the town looking like a shag-rag, now, can you?”

It was evident that the youngest Merriville saw no objection to presenting himself to the town in this guise; but equally evident was his acceptance of his elder sister’s authority, when he received, in answer to his glance of entreaty, a decided nod. He said sulkily: “Oh, very well!” but, before suffering himself to be led away by Charis, took his leave of the Marquis, and said eagerly: “And you will take me to Soho, won’t you, sir?”

“If I don’t, my secretary shall,” replied Alverstoke.

“Oh! Well—Well, thank you, sir! Only it would be better if you came with me
yourself
!”
urged Felix.

“Better for whom?” demanded his lordship involuntarily.

“Me,” replied Felix, with the utmost candour. “I daresay they would show
you
anything you wanted to see, on account of your being a—a second-best nobleman, which I know you are, because it says, in a book I found, that Marquises come directly after Dukes, so—”

But at this point his disgusted brother thrust him out of the room, pausing only, before following him, to offer Alverstoke a dignified apology for his childish want of conduct. As Lufra followed close on his heels, and Charis, bestowing a valedictory smile on Alverstoke, had already departed, the Marquis was left alone with his hostess.