“Old?” she ejaculated. “If you consider a man of seven-and-thirty old, you must be a bigger greenhead than I knew! He is in the prime of life!”
Slightly taken aback, he said: “Well, past the age of falling into Parson’s mousetrap, at all events! I should think he must be a confirmed bachelor, wouldn’t you? Dash it, there must have been hundreds of females on the scramble for him any time these dozen years, and more!”
She replied, in a colourless voice: “Very likely!” and immediately turned the subject, asking him if he did not feel that Mr Navenby, with all the advantages of birth, fortune, and amiability, would be an ideal husband for Charis.
Unfortunately, Harry had not taken a fancy to Mr Navenby. Having himself no ambition to sport a figure in the world of fashion, he was much inclined to regard with contempt even such mild aspirants to dandyism as Mr Navenby. He exclaimed: “What, that bandbox creature? I should hope Charis would have more sense than to marry him! Why, Dauntry is worth a dozen of him!”
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.