Frederica (31 page)

Knowing that any attempts to persuade Harry that an addiction to sport was not the most desirable quality to be looked for in a husband would be useless, Frederica said no more: a restraint which enabled him to feel that he had discharged his obligation to Charis, and might now, with a clear conscience, turn his attention to matters of more immediate importance.

Chief amongst these was the absolute necessity of presenting Alverstoke’s card at No. 13 Bond Street, where John Jackson had for many years given lessons in the art of self-defence. Harry had not been born when Jackson, in the last of his three public fights, had beaten the great Mendoza in exactly ten and a half minutes, but, like every other young amateur (or indeed, professional), he could have described in detail each round of this, and Jackson’s two previous encounters; and he was well aware of the unique position held, and maintained without ostentation, by the pugilist whose pleasant manners and superior intellect had earned for him the sobriquet of Gentleman. Anyone, upon payment of a fee, could get instruction at No. 13 Bond Street, but by no means everyone could hope to engage the attention of Gentleman Jackson himself, as Harry, armed with Alverstoke’s card, hoped to do. If he had had any doubts of the value of this talisman, they would have been dissipated by the reverence with which his knowledgeable friend, Mr Peplow, inspected it. Alverstoke, said Mr Peplow, was a noted amateur of the Fancy: none of your moulders, but a boxer of excellent science, who was said to display a great advantage, and was always ready to take the lead in milling. A Corinthian? No: Mr Peplow, frowning over it, did not think that his lordship belonged to that, or any other, set. He was certainly a tow-sawyer, and a first-rate fiddler: might be said, in fact, to cap the globe at most forms of sport; he was extremely elegant, too: trim as a trencher, one might say; but in an unobtrusive style of his own which never included the very latest quirks of fashion. “The thing is,” said Mr Peplow confidentially, “he’s devilish high in the instep!” Too young to know that the Marquis had taken Mr Brummell for his model, he added: “Sets his own mode. Never follows another man’s lead. Always been one of the first in consequence, you see, and holds himself very much up. Mind, I don’t mean to say he’s one of those stiff-rumped fellows who think themselves above their company—though he can give some pretty nasty set-downs, by all accounts!”

“Do you like him?” demanded Harry.

“Me?” exclaimed Mr Peplow, scandalized. “Good God, Harry,
I’m
not acquainted with him! Only telling you what people say!”

“Well, he didn’t give me one, and my young brothers swear he’s a great gun: they ain’t a bit afraid of him!”

“Oh! Oh, well, you’re related to him, ain’t you?”

“Yes, but that has nothing to say to anything! One of his nephews is dangling after my sister Charis—some sort of a cousin of mine! Gregory—Gregory Sandford, or Sandridge:
I
don’t know!—but it didn’t seem to me as if he knows Alverstoke well enough to get as much as a common bow in passing from him! Which makes me wonder—” He broke off. Mr Peplow, with exquisite tact, forbore to press him; and was rewarded by a burst of confidence. “Well, I won’t scruple to tell
you,
Barny, that what with his indulging Jessamy and Felix, as he does, and giving me his card, for Jackson, I can’t help wondering if
he’s
dangling after Charis too!”

His worldly-wise friend subjected this proposition to profound consideration, finally shaking his head, and saying: “Shouldn’t think so at all. Well, stands to reason! His ward, ain’t she? Wouldn’t be at all the thing! Unless he wants to get riveted?”

“Well, he doesn’t. Not to my sister, at all events. She says he likes my sister Frederica better than her—and neither of them above half.” He grinned suddenly. “Lord, though, only to think of it!
Frederica
!
Mind you, she’s a capital girl—sound as a roast!—but she’ll never be
married
!
She hasn’t had an offer in her life! She—she ain’t that sort of female!”

Both he and Charis had spoken in good faith, but both were mistaken: the elder Miss Merriville had received two unexceptionable offers, from Lord Buxted, and Mr Darcy Moreton; and Lord Alverstoke liked her very much above half. She would have agreed, however, that marriage was not for her; and had indeed told Buxted so, when she declined his offer. She told him that she was born to be an aunt, at which he smiled, and said: “You mean a sister, I think!”

“Why, yes! Just at present I do, but I look forward to the day when I shall take charge of all my nephews and nieces whenever their parents are at a stand, or wish to go jauntering off to the Continent!”

His smile broadened; he said: “You will be a much beloved aunt, I daresay, for the liveliness of your spirit must make you as enchanting to children as to their seniors. But be serious for a moment, and consider whether, as a sister, a husband might not be an advantage to you? You have three brothers—for although I am aware that Harry is of age, I do not think him grown, as yet, beyond the need of guidance—and you have, with that nobility and courage which command my admiration, assumed the charge of them. But is any female, however devoted, however elevated her mind, able to succeed in such a task? I don’t think it possible. Indeed, I will venture a guess that you must frequently have felt the want of male support.”

“Oh, no!” she answered serenely. “The boys mind me very well.”

“
Very
well, when one goes off to Margate without leave, and the other hires a dangerous machine, and—as was to be expected!—suffers an accident!” he said, laughing indulgently.

“I don’t think it
was
a dangerous machine. In any event I didn’t forbid either of them to do these things, so there was no question of disobedience.”

“And no fear in their heads of consequences!”

“No—or of anything else! They are full of pluck, my brothers.”

“Very true. One would not wish it to be otherwise; but boys who are—as you put it—full of pluck, stand in need of a guiding hand, you know. It has been so with my own young brother. You see, I don’t speak without experience! My mother has always been a firm parent, but she has been content to leave the management of George to me, realizing that a man knows best how and when to deliver a reproof, and is in general better heeded.”

She hardly knew how to keep her countenance. She had not met George, but if his youngest sister were to be believed he was a lively young gentleman, already bidding fair to become one of those choice spirits ripe and ready for any form of jollification, and resenting nothing so much as what he called his brother’s jobations. Nor had the result of a grave lecture addressed to Felix been happy. Not only had it banished from Felix’s head all contrition for having alarmed his sisters, but it had instantly transformed Jessamy into a hot partisan. All his bristles up, Jessamy had demanded to be told what right Cousin Buxted had to shove his oar in; and although he had later offered Buxted a stiff apology for this incivility he cordially agreed with Felix that the fellow was an encroaching windsucker, a prosy bore, and, probably, a slow-top into the bargain.

Remembering this incident, Frederica was obliged to choke down a chuckle before she responded: “I daresay you are right, cousin, but if ever I should be married it won’t be because I wish to provide my brothers with a—with a mentor!”

“I only said that because I thought it might be—because I thought you might regard my offer more favourably!”

The humble note in his voice touched her, but she shook her head; and when he began, in rather stilted language, to enumerate and describe the various excellent qualities in her character which had excited at first his admiration, and then his ardent desire to make her his wife, she checked him even more decidedly, saying kindly, but with a little amusement: “I am very much obliged to you, cousin, but pray say no more! Only think how much your mama would dislike such an alliance!”

He looked grave, and sighed; but replied: “I hope I am not lacking in respect for my mother, but in such matters a man must decide for himself.”

“Oh, no, you must not marry to disoblige her! Recollect how much she depends on you!”

“You must not think I am unmindful of my duty to her, or that I make you an offer without long and careful consideration,” he said earnestly.

Her eyes danced. “No, indeed! No one could think
that
!
I’m excessively flattered—I can’t tell you how much!—but the long and short of it is that I’m not hanging out for a husband—in fact, I don’t in the least wish to change my single state! It suits me very well: far better than I should suit you, Carlton, believe me!” He looked disconsolate, and said nothing for several moments. But after turning the matter over in his mind, he smiled, and said: “I have been too previous, for which you must blame the natural impatience of a man in love. I fancy that your thoughts have hitherto been so wholly devoted to the interests of your family that you have had none to spare for your own future. I shall say no more on this head now, but neither shall I despair.”

He then took his leave; and with real nobility Frederica forbore to regale Charis with an account of the interlude. She was not tempted to tell anyone of Mr Moreton’s offer, for it was simply made; and she liked him too well to betray him. She declined it as gently as she could; but when he sighed, and said, with a faint smile: “I feared it!” her eyes twinkled irrepressibly. “And now are quite cast-down.”

“Well, of course I am!”

“But also just a trifle relieved! Confess!”

“Miss Merriville! No, I swear I’m not!”

“You will be,” she assured him. “You know how comfortably you go on as a bachelor, and how very much you would dislike to be tied to a wife’s apron-strings.”

He laughed a little ruefully, but denied it. “I shouldn’t dislike being tied to your apron-strings.”

“Or to play the mentor to my brothers?” she asked, quizzing him. “You would be obliged to include them in your household, you know!”

“Yes—at least, won’t they live with your eldest brother?”

“Oh, no! Poor Harry! They would drive him distracted! He is too young for such a charge—too young to command either respect or obedience. Besides, he and Jessamy would be at outs within a sennight!”

“I see. Well, I know nothing about rearing boys, but I would do my best!” he said heroically.

She laughed, and held out her hand to him. “Even though your blood runs cold at the very thought of it! How kind you are, my dear friend! Thank you! What a fix you would be in if I did accept your offer! I shan’t, however, so you may be easy!”

He took her hand and kissed it. “Not quite that. May I still, and always, count myself your friend?”

“Indeed, I hope you will,” she replied cordially.

She could not help laughing a little, when he had gone, but kindly. There had been enough dismay in his face, swiftly though he had recovered himself, to strengthen her belief that it would not be long before he was thanking providence for his escape. The intrusion into his care-free existence of two such enterprising young gentlemen as Jessamy and Felix provided her with a vision that appealed instantly to her sense of humour. Only Buxted, she thought, could make sadder work of bridling them. Alverstoke could do it, and without rousing even the shadow of hostility, because they had decided, for inscrutable reasons, that he was a person eminently worthy of respect. But at this point her musings came to an abrupt halt. She was obliged to give herself a mental shake, renewing a resolve not to think about Alverstoke, at all. This was not easy. Whether he knew it, or not, he had developed an uncomfortable habit of intruding upon her thoughts; and to allow him to do so could only bring her to fiddlestick’s end. That was certain; and she hoped she had enough commonsense to realize it. Enough pride, too, not to add to the number of his victims. He was a confirmed bachelor—far more so than Darcy More-ton, who carried a warm heart in his breast. There was no warmth in Alverstoke, and no softness. If he was kind it was for his own ends; when it pleased him to make himself agreeable he could be the most delightful of companions; but his treatment of his sisters, and of anyone who bored him, was ruthless. Hard, cold, and selfish: that was Alverstoke! And a rake into the bargain, if the on-dits were true. Probably they were, but one must be just, even to such an abandoned character: he had shown no signs of the rake in his dealings with her, or with her lovely sister. She had on one occasion suspected him of trying to get up a flirtation, but had soon decided that she was mistaken. Moreover, it was only fair to acknowledge that although he had consented to sponsor her and Charis with no other motive than a malicious wish to infuriate his sister Louisa, he had been extremely kind to Jessamy and Felix as well. Still being just to his lordship, she recalled the expedition to Hampton Court, which must surely have been intolerably boring to him; the readiness with which he had rescued Lufra from an untimely end; and the skill with which he had handled Jessamy. It was impossible to discover in these activities any base, ulterior motive: he had behaved as though he really were their guardian, so that she had come, insensibly, to regard him as one to whom she could turn in any difficulty. This vexed her, for she had not previously looked for support or advice; and she had a shrewd notion that if she were to maintain her own strength she must not allow herself to fall into the habit of depending upon his. For some unknown reason it amused him, at present, to befriend the Merrivilles; but he might grow bored at any moment, shrugging them off as easily as he had adopted them. For what, after all, she asked herself, did she know about him? Nothing much beyond what the gossips recounted: not even if he liked her above the average! Sometimes she had been encouraged to think that he did; but at other times, when he let half the evening slip by at some assembly before strolling over to exchange a few words with her, she had been convinced that he regarded her with indifference. Which, when one thought the matter over dispassionately, was in all likelihood the truth; for if the truly dazzling beauties who showed themselves perfectly ready to receive his addresses bored him (as they demonstrably did), how much more must he be bored by a country-cousin endowed with no more than passable good-looks, and long past the first blush of her youth? Indeed, when she considered the handsome Mrs Parracombe, or the dashing widow who was commonly thought to be his latest flirt, she could only be surprised that he continued to interest himself in her affairs. Had she been told that she was rapidly becoming an obsession with him, she would have been incredulous.