He had been meditatively tapping the lid of his snuffbox, and he now flicked it open, and, frowning slightly, took a pinch, while Frederica watched him, not un-hopefully. He shut the box, dusted his long fingers, and at last looked at her, still frowning. “You would be well advised to be content with something less than the first circle of society,” he said bluntly.
“Are we so ineligible?” she demanded.
“By birth, no. In all other respects, yes. I don’t know what your pecuniary resources may be, but — ”
“Enough!”
“If you are thinking of a Court presentation for your sister you would do better to fund your money: it’s an investment that would yield you no dividend.”
“I know that, and I don’t think of it.”
“What, then?”
She clasped her hands together in her lap, and said, a little breathlessly: “Almack’s!”
“You are aiming at the moon, Miss Merriville. No introduction of mine would help you to cross that hallowed threshold! Unless you number amongst your acquaintances some matron possessing the entree, who would be willing to sponsor you — ”
“I don’t. If that had been the case I shouldn’t have sought your assistance. But I won’t cry craven! Somehow I shall manage — see if I don’t!”
He rose politely, saying: “I hope you may. If you think my advice of value, may I suggest that you would have a better chance of success if you were to remove to one of the watering-places? Bath, or Tunbridge Wells, where you may attend the assemblies, and would no doubt meet persons of consideration.”
She too rose, but before she could answer him she was interrupted by the sound of hasty footsteps on the stairs. The next instant a sturdy schoolboy burst into the room, exclaiming: “Frederica, it was nothing but a fudge! We searched all over, and I asked people, and no one knew anything about it!”
IV
Miss Merriville, unperturbed by the irruption into her drawing-room of a young gentleman who had contrived to acquire, since she had last seen him some three hours earlier, a crumpled and grubby collar and muddied nankeens, responded with quick sympathy: “Oh, no! How wretched for you! But it can’t have been a fudge, Felix! It was Mr Rushbury who told you about it, and he wouldn’t have hoaxed you!”
By this time Master Felix Merriville had taken cursory stock of the Marquis, but he would undoubtedly have poured forth the story of his morning’s Odyssey to his sister had he not been quelled by another, and older, schoolboy, who, entering the room in his wake, severely adjured him to mind his manners. A large and shaggy dog, of indeterminate parentage, was at his heels; and just as he was apologizing to Frederica for having come in when she was entertaining a visitor, this animal advanced with the utmost affability to greet the Marquis. His disposition was friendly, as he showed by the waving of his plumed tail; and his evident intention was to jump up at the guest. But Alverstoke, wise in the ways of dogs, preserved his face from being generously licked, and his exquisitely fashioned coat of Bath Superfine from being smirched by muddy paws, by catching the animal’s forearms, and holding him at bay. “Yes, good dog!” he said. “I’m much obliged to you, but I don’t care to have my face licked!”
“Down, Lufra!” commanded Mr Jessamy Merriville, in even more severe accents. He added, with his sister’s absence of shyness: “I beg pardon, sir: I would not have brought him in if I had known that my sister was entertaining a visitor.”
“Not at alclass="underline" I like dogs,” responded his lordship, reducing Lufra to abject slavery by running his fingers along the precise spot on the spine which that grateful hound was unable to scratch for himself. “What did you call him?”
“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 Deviclass="underline" 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.”