Frederica

XXIV

With Felix out of danger, and slowly winning back to strength, life at Monk’s Farm underwent several changes. It was no longer necessary to keep a constant watch over him; and although Frederica, sleeping on the truckle-bed in his room, might be obliged to get up three or four times during the night to attend to him, she no longer needed either relief or assistance; nor, during the day, was it imperative for her to remain always within call. He slept a great deal, and was docile when awake, too weak to display any of his customary recalcitrance: a circumstance which made Jessamy, permitted at last to share the task of nursing him, so uneasy that he sought counsel of the Marquis.

“For I don’t wish to alarm Frederica, sir,” he explained. “Only it does seem to me very unlike him! I don’t mean because he does what you or Frederica bid him, because he would, of course. But he does what I say he must, and doesn’t even argue! You don’t think, do you sir, that his brain is affected?”

Preserving his countenance, the Marquis reassured him; but he was not wholly satisfied until the day when Felix had to be coaxed to swallow his medicine, and apostrophized him as the greatest beast in nature. “So now I know all’s right!” he told the Marquis radiantly. “I daresay he will soon be throwing the glass at me!”

“Well, if it will afford you pleasure I hope he may,” said his lordship. “Warn him not to throw it at me!”

Another change was provided by Knapp. After a struggle with his pride, he allowed the boredom he was suffering at the Sun, and his jealousy of Curry, who spent his days at the farm, in attendance on the Marquis, to overcome his reluctance to demean himself, and offered his services.

So Felix, quite unimpressed, was waited on by a valet of rare quality; the kitchen quarters were dignified by the presence of a refined personage of great condescension, in whom Miss Judbrook recognized a gentleman’s gentleman of the first stare; and Frederica, as she told the Marquis, found herself with nothing to do.

It might have been expected that his lordship would now have returned to London, but this was a change which had not taken place. He continued to put up at the Sun, under conditions to which he was in no way accustomed, and to spend his days at Monk’s Farm. As soon as Frederica felt it safe to leave Felix in his brother’s charge for an hour or two, he persuaded her to take the air in his phaeton; and, later, when she had recovered from her exhaustion, to go with him for strolling walks. She was very ready to do so; she talked to him with the ease of long-standing friendship; she consulted him on any problem that arose; but her entire lack of consciousness showed him that it had not entered her bead to regard him in the light of a suitor. He could not help wondering if she treated him as she might an elder brother, or even (a lowering thought!) an uncle.

His own doubts were at an end. The more he saw of her the more he loved her, and as he had never loved any woman before. Not the most beautiful of his mistresses had inspired him with a desire to shield her from every adverse wind; he had never pictured the most amusing of his well-born flirts presiding over his several establishments; and far less had he contemplated a permanent relationship with any of these ladies. But after knowing her for little more than two months Frederica had so seriously disturbed the pattern of his life that he had been cast into a state of indecision: a novel experience which had not been at all agreeable. When he was pitchforked into her little brother’s fantastic adventure he had still been in a state of uncertainty; since then he had spent more than a week in close companionship with her, and under conditions as unromantic as they were uncomfortable, and all his doubts were resolved: he wished to spend the rest of his life with her, because she was the perfect woman he had never expected to encounter.

His lordship, in fact, had fallen deeply in love. He was also undergoing yet another new experience: Frederica showed no sign of returning his regard. He knew that she liked him; once or twice he had dared to hope that the feeling she had for him was becoming more than mere fondness, but he could never be sure of this, or forget that on the only occasion when he had given her the faintest reason to suspect him of gallantry she had instantly set him at a distance. It seemed a long time ago; she might have changed her mind; but since he had then, and for the succeeding weeks, been unable to make up his own mind, he had never made any attempt to fix his interest with her. In the situation in which they had found themselves, when she joined him at Monk’s Farm, it would have been both stupid and improper to have embarked on courtship. On the one hand, no moment could be more ill-chosen; on the other, it must (if she repulsed him) have created embarrassment between them, while his assistance in the task of nursing Felix had been so indispensable.

But Felix had survived and was on the mend, making it unnecessary for himself to remain in Hertfordshire. The Marquis, yielding to impulse, resolved to put his fate to the touch.

He had accompanied Frederica on a rambling walk, and they had paused by a stile before retracing their steps. Leaning on the topmost bar, she stared ahead, a troubled look on her face.

“Frederica!” said his lordship, recklessly taking the plunge.

She paid no heed; but when he repeated her name she turned her head, and said: “I beg your pardon! I wasn’t attending! Did you say something to me, cousin?”

“Not yet!” he replied. “I was merely trying to recall your attention! What were you thinking about so deeply?”

“I was trying to remember the name of an excellent jelly which Mrs Ansdell — our Vicar’s wife, you know — recommended to me when Jessamy and Felix were so pulled by the measles,” she said seriously. “It did them a great deal of good, and I think it would be just the thing for Felix now, if only I could — Oh, I have it! Dr Ratcliffe’s Restorative Pork Jelly! How could I be so stupid? Now, what have I said to make you go into whoops?”

“Nothing in the world!” responded the Marquis, still laughing.

“Well, what did you wish to say to me?” she demanded, her brow puckered in a puzzled frown.

“Nothing in the world, Frederica!” he said again. “How fortunate that you should have remembered the name of this jelly! Shall I go at once to Hemel Hempstead to procure it for you?”

“No, very likely you wouldn’t be able to. If Dr Elcot approves, I shall write to Harry, and ask him to bring me some.”

“Oh, is Harry to visit us?” he asked.

“Yes — didn’t I tell you? Curry brought me a letter from the receiving-office this morning. He writes that he can come post, and be in London again in time to dine with Charis. He would have come immediately, you know, if Jessamy had not dissuaded him, which was very right. It could only have overset him to have seen Felix then, and there was nothing he could have done, because he is very rarely ill himself, and hasn’t a notion of what to do for sick persons. But naturally he is anxious to come now, and I shall tell him he may do so, but must not allow Charis to accompany him. I am sorry for it, and should dearly love to see her, but we cannot have her sick on our hands as well!”

“Certainly not!” Alverstoke said, startled. “Er — should we?”

“Well, quite out of sorts for a day or two, at all events. On account of the post-chaise,” she explained. “You know what those yellow bounders are! She would be queasy before ever they reached Edgware.”

His lordship, recognizing that it was still not the moment to make a declaration, very wisely refrained, and, as they wended their way back to the farm, talked to her on indifferent subjects.

Harry, who arrived in due course, bringing with him a supply of Dr Ratcliffe’s Restorative Pork Jelly, was quite unmanned at the sight of Felix, so thin and white, and so languid, and it needed the united endeavours of Frederica and Alverstoke to convince him that the boy was not lying at death’s door. He was inclined to think that Frederica took too lighthearted a view of the case, and was so insistent that a London practitioner should be sent for — even saying that he, and not she, was the poor little fellow’s guardian — that Alverstoke was impelled to come to her rescue, drawing him apart, and explaining to him, with wonderful patience, why it would be both unnecessary and inadvisable to call in another doctor at this stage. Harry did not look to be perfectly satisfied, but he brightened when Alverstoke suggested that if Felix did not pluck up as fast as he should, when he was carried home, Harry should certainly consult a London physician.

To see Felix had not been Harry’s only reason for posting down to Monk’s Farm: he wished to discharge his debt to the Marquis. “You have been put to a great deal of expense, sir, and I am much obliged to you for acting on my behalf,” he said punctiliously. “I should like, if it is convenient to you, to give you a draft on my bank.”

There was a mulish look about his mouth, and the hint of a challenge in his eyes, but the Marquis, who had foreseen the demand, took the wind out of his sails by responding affably: “Oh, perfectly! I’ll hand you the reckoning when I return to London. Do you want it in detail, or will a Dutch one suffice?”

“No, no, of course I don’t want it in detail, sir!” Harry exclaimed, ludicrously disconcerted. “I only meant — that is to say, you won’t forget, will you?”

“If I do, you must remind me,” said the Marquis.

With this Harry had to be content; but he took care to tell Frederica that she must instruct Dr Elcot not to present his bill to Alverstoke. “I’ve brought you a roll of flimsies,” he said, “and if you should need any more of the ready, mind you write to me for it, for I won’t have Alverstoke standing the nonsense! A pretty fellow I should be not to look after my own brothers and sisters!”

She agreed, but said: “I wish you had not been obliged to — and you ought not!”

“Gammon!”

“No, it’s the truth. I should be more beforehand with the world. I thought, you know, that Graynard would have paid for everything, but living in London, and going to so many ton-parties, has cost much more than I was prepared for.”

“Oh, pooh! Who cares?”

“I do — indeed, I am dreadfully mortified! I never meant to be a charge on you, Harry! I shall pay it back to you, but I fear I may be forced to draw on you.”

“Freddy, will you stop talking such flummery? Anyone would suppose I was on the rocks!”

“No, I know it’s not as bad as that, but I’m very sure it isn’t high tide with you. I daresay you may have debts, too.”

“Nothing to signify!” he said, with a betraying flush. “You needn’t worry your head over that! As for your expenses, I can always raise the wind, you know: Salcombe will manage it for me.”

“Do you mean, sell you out of the Funds? No, that he shan’t!”

“Oh, you may depend upon it Salcombe will know of some other way! What’s the figure?”

“My dear, I’m not yet on the rocks either! I was looking ahead — merely warning you that I might be obliged to demand your assistance! The thing is that I must not keep Felix in London, and I hired the house there for six months. I thought we might have stayed there during the summer, living very economically, which we could well do, when the season is over. But I have been talking to Dr Elcot, and he advises me to take Felix out of town until he is perfectly recovered. The racket and all the excitements of London won’t do for him: I shall have to take the greatest care of him, you see, not letting him tax his strength. He is going on very prosperously, but rheumatic fever, as we know, can sometimes leave certain weaknesses behind it.”

“Mama!” he exclaimed. “Good God, Freddy, he must and shall be seen by a London doctor! One who is bang up to the hub!”

“Yes, that’s what I feel, too. Indeed, Dr Elcot has himself recommended me to do so, before I leave London. So we will ask Sir William Knighton to call in Upper Wimpole Street as soon as Felix is well enough to travel, which won’t, I hope, be long now — particularly in Alverstoke’s carriage, which is the most luxurious one I ever was in! And then, if Sir William approves the scheme, I mean to remove to some quiet, unfashionable place — perhaps by the sea? Only I must take Charis and Jessamy as well, of course, and I am afraid it may cost a good deal, even if we can find a cheap lodging. Harry, will you discover which of the seaside resorts would be the best, and go there to find a eligible lodging-house for us? Or hire a furnished house, if you think none of the lodgings suitable?”

But this Harry did not feel himself competent to do. He thought it would be better for Frederica to choose the lodgings herself, handsomely offering to escort her on this exploratory trip.

She did not press the matter, reflecting that it might indeed be unwise, not to say foolhardy, to leave the choice of lodgings to his uninstructed judgment. She asked him instead for news of Charis. He said she was not to tease herself, for Charis was going on tolerably well; but he admitted that her spirits were not high. She was wearing black gloves, of course, and had excused herself from attending any of the parties to which she and Frederica had been invited. No: he did not think she was moped precisely; and as for being lonely, much cause there was for that! Lord, the knocker was never still! Which reminded him that he had meant to ask her who the devil was the queer touch who was for ever on the doorstep, enquiring after Felix, handing Buddle flowers and billets for Charis, and in general making a curst cake of himself? A regular counter-coxcomb: Nutley, or some such name.

“Oh, dear! Our neighbour,” said Frederica despairingly. “A very respectable young man, but — but encroaching! Not that I altogether blame him, because I know very well that Charis — not in the least meaning to do so, but because she is such a soft-hearted goose — did encourage him! I have tried to hint him away — ”

“Well, I’ve done more than that!” interrupted Harry callously. “What a jackstraw to be making up to a sister of mine! When it came to his saying that he wished to serve her in this time of affliction — such impudence! — I told him to his head that she needed no services from him, or from anyone other than myself! Which put him in the bag, I’m happy to say!”

“Poor Mr Nutley! and Mr Navenby? Has he called?”

“Oh, yes! Brought his mother with him. She was much inclined to laugh at the affair, but he wasn’t! He didn’t seem able to believe it at first, and then he sat staring. It was all in the papers, you know — not very much, thank the lord, but enough!”

“I suppose it must have been,” she sighed. “Has it shocked everyone?”

“I shouldn’t think so. Well, Lady Elizabeth wasn’t shocked, was she? And I can tell you of two others who aren’t: Barny, and Dauntry! They think Felix is as game as a pebble — but I’ve told ’em not to put that notion into his head!”

“So I should hope! Harry, I do hope Endymion Dauntry isn’t haunting the house?”

“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, “Are 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!”