Horses, however, were a different matter. If one were a judge of horseflesh (which Harry prided himself he was); studied the form; kept an eye on Cocker, to see how the odds stood; carefully watched how the Tulips of the Turf were betting their money at Tatt’s and knew when to hedge off, there was every chance that one would come off all right. On the Monday following his arrival in London, he had gone with Mr Peplow to Tattersall’s; and thereafter became a frequent visitor to the subscription room. As he liked the sport more for its own sake than for the money that could be won by backing winners, he went to any race meeting held within reach of the city, driving himself and Barny in a curricle which, acting on the advice of Endymion Dauntry, he had bought (really dog-cheap) in Long Acre. The pair of sweetgoers he acquired to draw the curricle had not been quite so cheap; but, as he rather guiltily pointed out to Frederica, it was false economy to buy cheap prads which would inevitably turn out to be stumblers, or limpers, or incurable millers.
She agreed to this, suppressing the impulse to protest against his extravagance. She was prompted in some measure by the knowledge that criticism from his sister would not be well received; and to a far greater degree by a realization of the expenditure she was herself incurring. Graynard had supplied the money for this London season, and Graynard belonged not to her, but to Harry. She allowed herself to do no more than beg him, half-laughingly, not to outrun the constable. He said impatiently: “Oh, fiddle! I’m not a pauper! Do you expect me to drive job-horses, like a once-a-week beau? Why should I?”
“No, no! Only that the expense of stabling, in London — and a groom besides — ”
“Gammon! The merest trifle! If you had had any rumgumption, Freddy, you would have brought our own horses to London, and John-Coachman as well! I can tell you, I don’t like it above half that you should be jauntering about in a job-carriage. It don’t present a good appearance — and if you thought I should have grudged the expense you’re fair and far off!”
She assured him that no such thought had entered her mind, and thereafter said no more. His somewhat censorious brother, Jessamy, was not so forbearing. Not only did he refuse to take the smallest interest in Harry’s neatish pair of Welsh bays, but he condemned their purchase so unequivocally, and with such a total want of the respect due to his senior, that only his sense of propriety (as he told Jessamy) restrained Harry from tipping him a settler.
Thereafter, his family saw little of Harry. His smart new set-out made it an easy matter for him to attend a good many race meetings, and several pugilistic battles, held discreetly out of town, but at such accessible places as Moulsey Hurst, or Copthall Common.
The Marquis knew all about the quarrel, and the resultant coolness between the brothers. He had once or twice invited Jessamy to ride with him in the park, and on one of these occasions they had encountered Harry, trying out the paces of his prime pair. The Marquis had said: “Two very tidy ones! Have you driven them?”
“No! And I don’t mean to!” had replied Jessamy, fire in his eyes, and his upper lip lengthening ominously. “Harry knows very well what I think of this bang-up set-out of his!”
“I’m not so well-informed. What do you think of it?”
That was quite enough: Jessamy told him in explicit terms. He was, in general, reserved to the point of stiffness, but he had long since ceased to regard his lordship in any other light than that of a close and trusted relation; and he hoped that Cousin Alverstoke would give Harry snuff for his reckless extravagance. “Because he don’t care a straw for what I say!” he ended bitterly.
“I don’t suppose he does. It says much for his forbearance that you didn’t — er — receive a chancery suit upon the nob!” had said Alverstoke, adding, with the flicker of a quizzical smile: “How would you like it if Felix raked you down?”
Jessamy had flushed hotly, an arrested look on his face; but after a moment or two he had replied: “Very well, sir! I shouldn’t have said it! But — but it provoked me so much I don’t know how I could have kept my tongue between my teeth! Frederica may say that he has a right to do as he pleases, but I think he should be considering how he can best help her, instead of wasting the ready on his own pleasure!”
The Marquis was much in sympathy with this sentiment, but he had not said so, preferring to cast a damper on Jessamy’s wrath, and to point out to him that the purchase of a curricle and a pair of horses was hardly likely to bring the whole family to ruin.
He was sincere in this opinion; and he did not think that Frederica was much worried by Harry’s slight burst of extravagance. But that something was causing her to feel anxious he was reasonably certain; and since it had become, by almost insensible degrees, a matter of importance to him that nothing should be allowed to trouble her, he set about the task of discovering what had brought just a faint look of strain to her eyes. He invited the Merriville sisters, my Lord and Lady Jevington, and Mr Peter Navenby to be his guests at the Opera one evening, mentally holding his sister Louisa and her prosy son in reserve, in case Augusta should spurn his invitation. She did not, however, which, since the Jevingtons also rented a box at the Opera House, surprised him a little, and still more her mild spouse.
Nothing, therefore, could have been more unexceptionable than his lordship’s opera-party; and nothing could have been more exactly ‘calculated to convince even the most suspicious that he was merely doing a guardian’s duty than his lordship’s polite but rather bored demeanour. It was a simple matter for him to engage Frederica in conversation during the interval without attracting attention: he had merely to retire with her to the back of the box, to make room for those of Charis’s admirers who ventured to present themselves. He had said: “I hope you are pleased with me; I shall think myself very ill-used if I don’t receive a fervent expression of your gratitude!”
Only for an instant did she look puzzled; as he watched the laughter spring to her eyes he reflected that she had never yet daunted him by asking, fatally: “What do you mean?” She had said instead: “Indeed, I am very much obliged to you, sir! I only wish — ” She paused, sighed, and said: “Don’t you think — now that you have had the opportunity to observe him more closely — that he would be the very man for her?” He glanced at the unconscious Mr Navenby. “Perhaps: how can I tell? Is that what troubles you?”
“No, it doesn’t trouble me, precisely. I am only anxious that she should be comfortably, and happily, established.”
“Then what is it?” he asked.
“Why, nothing! Except that I shall be obliged to turn off the cook, which is a great bore, because she cooks well. But my housekeeper tells me that she is so much addicted to gin that she must go. Can you wonder at it if I appear a trifle harassed? — Though I hoped I did not!”