‘Your memory is abominable,’ she returned.
‘Nonsense. I never forget anything.’
‘Then what colour is my new ball gown, which I mentioned to you in my letters?’
‘It is ... that is to say ... I believe, yes, I am sure ...’
‘Well?’ she asked.
‘I do not immediately recall.’
‘No? Not even with your good memory?’ she asked satirically.
‘Ah, I have it! It is blue,’ I said, hazarding a guess.
‘And what material is it?’
‘Broc ...’ I saw that she was about to say No and changed my mind. ‘Probably ... that is to say, it was satin. Yes, I remember now. You distinctly said it was made out of satin.’
‘Fie upon you, James. I told you at least three times, it is made of silk.’
I was undaunted.
‘Whatever it is made of, I am sure you will look enchanting in it,’ I said.
She laughed.
‘Well recovered, sir! You should be a courtier, not a lawyer. It is a great skill to be able to turn a pretty compliment, especially when you have just been bested! You should see if they have any openings at St James’s!’
We had almost reached the lawns and she stopped, letting her skirt drop from her hand and settling her straw hat on her head.
‘Here, let me help you,’ I said, tying her ribbons for her.
‘I had better go in through the French windows,’ said Eliza, when I had done. ‘I am meant to be practising the pianoforte. I promised your father I would heed my music master’s instruction and practise for two hours every day, but I could not settle to my music this afternoon, knowing that you would be home.’
‘So you came to the field on purpose to catch an early sight of me,’ I said with a feeling of satisfaction.
She raised her eyebrows and said lightly, ‘How vain men are! I merely thought some exercise would do me good and so I walked through the fields accordingly. The fact that you happened to arrive at that moment was the merest coincidence.’
And with that she left me.
I watched her walk away from me, admiring the line of her back, and I kept watching her until she was out of sight, and then I slung my pack over my shoulder and carried on my way.
I walked round the house, and as I passed the stables, I saw my brother Harry coming out of them. He was looking dissolute, with his cravat pulled awry, and he was adjusting his breeches. My mood darkened.
‘Some things never change,’ I said, as I drew level with him. ‘Who was it this time? The milkmaid, the scullery maid, or one of the farmers’ daughters?’
He leered.
‘Molly Dean, as it happens, one of the most beautiful girls hereabouts. You should take the trouble of getting to know her yourself. She’d soon put a spring in your step. A girl like Mol ly’s just what you need on a morning like this one. A roll in the hay with her would wipe that sanctimonious look off your face. It would make a man of you.’
‘I do not think I like your idea of being a man.’
‘No? University has taught you nothing, then. A pity. I was hoping you would learn to hold your liquor and develop a taste for women, so that we could carouse together, as brothers should, but it seems that you have returned as dull as you went.’
We went into the house together, but we could not think of anything further to say to each other. We parted in the hall, he to go upstairs and I to go in to my father.
I found him in his study, looking through a pile of papers.
‘So, you are back,’ he said, glancing up once then continuing with his work.
‘Yes, indeed, Father, as you see.’
‘And what have you been doing since you went away?’
‘I have been studying, sir.’
‘Studying?’ He threw his quill down on the desk, then looked up at me in astonishment; whether feigned or real I could not tell. ‘Studying! You take my breath away. I had no idea you would do such a thing. It seems I have raised a scholar! Dear me.’
‘Hardly that,’ I said uncomfortably, for somehow he always manages to disconcert me.
‘No? ’
‘No, sir, I have simply been trying to repay your kindness in sending me to Oxford by working hard for my degree.’
‘A degree?’ he asked, as though it were some kind of rare and exotic animal. ‘So that is what you hope to gain, is it? It seems an unusual desire for a young man of your background. Pray, tell me, what do you intend to do with it when you have it? Do you mean to set yourself up as a clerk, perhaps? Or maybe you have higher aspirations?’
‘I have indeed, sir,’ I said, trying hard not to squirm.
‘I am glad to hear it. And to what do you aspire? To become a schoolmaster, perhaps, or do you hope to reach the exalted ranks of a tutor?’ he asked satirically.
‘No, indeed ...’
‘No? Surely you do not have an even higher calling in mind, for what could be a higher calling than looking after another man’s brats; brats who will treat you with insolence, at best, and more probably openly revile you? ’
‘I hope to go into the law.’
‘Ah. The law,’ he said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. ‘The law,’ he repeated, savouring the words as though they were a glass of wine; though what his pronouncement would be on the vintage, I could not guess. ‘I congratulate you,’ he went on, with a smile that lacked any humour. ‘If you work hard, then at the end of ten years you might have enough money to buy yourself a horse.’
‘The law has greater rewards than that — ’ I said, stung to reply.
‘But not for an honest man,’ he interrupted me, ‘and you have always struck me as honest, James. Unless you mean to surprise me? ’
‘No, sir.’
‘I should not have sent you to university this year, it was too soon, but I allowed myself to be swayed by your tutors, who assured me that you had learnt everything they could teach you, and that you were intelligent and likely to thrive. But you were not mature enough. And now you have set your feet on the wrong path and you stand in need of some advice. Abandon all these notions of hard work and degrees and do what I intended you to do when I sent you to Oxford in the first place. Make some friends — ’
‘I have friends, sir.’
He raised his eyebrows.
‘Really? You pick a strange time to mention them. Nevertheless, I am very pleased to hear it. Friends are the basis of life. They can be very useful if treated properly, so tell me about these friends of yours, James, and tell me of what use they can be to you?’
As so often, when talking to my father, I felt as though we were speaking different languages, which shared the same words but not the same meanings.
‘I do not understand you, sir.’
He sat forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his desk.
‘Dear me. I must have been very remiss in my duties towards you if you do not know what I mean by useful. What connections do they have? What help can they give you? And how many sisters do they have?’
‘I never took any account of those things ...’
‘You astonish me. How is it that a young man such as yourself, not deficient in intelligence, an avid student — so he tells me — with no defects of person or manners can fail to take account of such things? Tell me, how do you mean to live once you are out in the world?’
‘By going into the law, sir, as I have already told you.’
‘And as I have already told you, a man cannot live on what the law provides. Therefore, my advice to you, James, is to return to Oxford in a better frame of mind than the one in which you left. Think of your friends in the light of the help their families can provide. They might have livings at their disposal, or better yet, they might have impressionable daughters with generous dowries who would welcome the attentions of a handsome young man such as yourself. Cultivate those who can be useful to you and disregard the rest.’