“Since you’re so certain of that, sir, I won’t presume to contradict you,” said Shaldon, coolly. “Was there any particular reason why you wished to see me?”
“Particular reason!” echoed the Earl, petulantly. “What particular reason should a man have for wishing to see his own son, I ask you? If you had an ounce of family feeling, you’d come to Alvington a damn sight more often, instead of giving all your time to those damned seditious friends of yours in Town!”
Shaldon raised his eyebrows. “Seditious friends? I’m afraid I don’t follow you.”
“Yes, seditious friends — and worse,” repeated the Earl, his face turning a pale purple shade. “There was that good-for-nothing poet fellow, Shelley, who got sent down from Oxford while you were there for writing blasphemy — and he was a particular friend of yours, by all accounts — still is, I daresay. Not content with that, I hear you’re forever dining with that damned Whig set, the Hollands. Why, they even supported Bonaparte, and if that ain’t treason, I don’t know what is!”
“It seems you’re singularly well informed about my movements,” remarked Shaldon, drily. “Since you don’t go up to Town yourself nowadays, and seldom receive visitors, one wonders how you manage it.”
“Ay, hipped you, that has, hasn’t it?” replied his father, in a tone of satisfaction. “Well, I have my sources of information — I don’t mind admitting that.”
“Lord Lydney, perhaps? But I’m flattered to think that he takes so much interest in my concerns. As a member of Parliament, I should have supposed he might have had weightier matters to occupy him.”
“So he has. But he’s served by those who still retain sufficient interest in me to visit me now and then and recount to me some of the things which I ought to know about my own son.”
“Ah,” said Shaldon, softly. “If I mistake not, you must mean his secretary, Durrant.”
“Ay, Durrant — Harrison’s stepson, and I’ve yet to meet a more grateful young man for all the advantages that have been offered him.”
“Doubtless. But surely he owes you no especial marks of gratitude? It was Mr. Somerby who tutored him as a boy, his stepfather who paid for his schooling, and Lord Lydney who gave him his present post.”
“The boy grew up on my land, housed in the comfortable, not to say luxurious, quarters which I allotted to his stepfather as my land agent, didn’t he? Certainly he owes me a duty, and I’m pleased to see that he makes some endeavour to pay it. Unlike some I could mention, whose connection is nearer, but who are too taken up with their damned Whig friends!”
Shaldon gave a frosty smile. “It might surprise you to know, sir, that the conversation at Holland House is not entirely concerned with politics. One may meet there all the foremost literary and intellectual figures of the day, and the ideas discussed are often, in a sense, above politics. This is what I find fascinating. I’ve always been interested in listening to new ideas.”
The Earl snorted. “You are like your mother in that.”
Shaldon’s grey eyes took on a hint of steel.
“You could not pay me a finer compliment.”
“Well, I don’t mean to pay you compliments, and so you must know,” replied the Earl, irascibly.
“I had collected as much. If not to pay me compliments, sir, what was your real purpose in desiring me to attend you? Was it solely to give me the benefit of your opinion on my friends?”
“A damned fool I’d be to bring you here for that, as I can see very well that my opinion goes for nothing with you! No, there was another matter.”
Shaldon waited expectantly. Typically, the Earl was reluctant to begin, and there was a pause of several minutes.
“You know Ned Lydney’s been down here at Askett House for the past few weeks, I daresay?” he went on, presently.
Shaldon nodded. “I learned as much from Durrant, whom I met as I was turning in at the gates. We exchanged a word or two.”
“Yes, well, when Ned returns to Town he’s taking his wife with him for the girl’s come-out. He took a notion into his head — came to see me about it. Must say, I think it’s a sound scheme.”
Shaldon waited again; but his father seemed reluctant to continue, pulling out a handkerchief with some deliberation and blowing his nose with unnecessary force.
“I imagine,” said Shaldon, at last, “that all this must have something to do with me in some way?”
“Yes, well, of course it does,” replied the Earl testily, seeing that he could scarcely avoid making a plain tale, and disliking the task. “You had any thoughts about marriage yet?”
Shaldon looked up alertly. He saw now where all this was leading, but perversely he had no intention of giving his father any help in explaining matters.
“It’s a subject I always take care to avoid,” he answered smoothly.
“Ha! Well, don’t say I altogether blame you. I myself was married too young — but that don’t signify now. The thing is, you’re in your mid-twenties, and that’s a good time for matrimony. Can’t leave it much longer, y’know. We must have an heir for the estate.”
He paused, hoping that he had already said enough for Anthony to take the point; but the grey eyes turned on him were glinting with mischief. And suddenly the Earl was reminded uncomfortably of an interview on the same topic long ago between himself and his own father, and of the difference between his reactions at that time and Anthony’s now. The memory sharpened his resentment.
“Oh, quite,” replied Shaldon, calmly. “I will give the matter my attention at some time, when I’m not too taken up with more pressing concerns.”
“I’m saying you’re to give it your attention at once — at once, d’you hear?” shouted the Earl, turning purple again.
“Have a care, sir,” said Shaldon, soothingly. “I would not wish you to do yourself a mischief.”
“Much you care, you good-for-nothing, you! It must be plain to the weakest intellect what I’m trying to say, but you take a positive delight in affecting not to understand me! Don’t tell me — I’m up to your knavish tricks, right enough!”
Having no desire to see his father work himself into an apoplexy, Shaldon decided to abandon his fencing.
“I collect that all this roundaboutation is to do with the notion Lord Lydney took into his head, and which you approve? Could it by any chance concern a match between Miss Cynthia Lydney and myself?”
The Earl sighed in relief, his colour subsiding.
“Ay, that’s it. We’ve been friends since youth, Ned and I, our estates march side by side, and an alliance there would be suitable on all counts. What d’you say, Anthony?”
“I don’t wish to marry at present, sir.”
“Why not? What can be your objection? There ain’t anyone else you’ve in mind, is there?”
Shaldon shook his head.
“Then what’s wrong with Ned’s girl? She’s as pretty as a picture, not like — well, never mind that,” he added, hastily. “And she’s got winsome ways, too. I declare when Ned brought her here the other day, she made me feel young again! You ought to jump at the chance of such a girl — birth, breeding, fortune, and good looks, into the bargain!”
“And also — unless she’s changed a great deal since childhood — a malicious tongue,” added Shaldon. “That’s not among the endowments I desire in the lady whom I shall one day make my wife.”
“How long is it since you’ve seen her?” demanded the Earl, working himself up again.
Shaldon meditated. “Let me see… It was sometime when I chanced to be here during the holidays from Eton. I suppose I was fifteen or sixteen — that would make Cynthia about ten years old. Shortly afterwards she went to school herself, I believe, and our paths have never crossed since.”
“Well, the chit’s close on nineteen now, and a woman grown, so there’s no reason to suppose she’ll bear the slightest resemblance to a child of ten! Why don’t you suspend judgment until you’ve met her again? I can easily arrange with Ned to bri
ng her over here, if you’re staying for a few days, as I daresay you will.”
“You are very good, sir, but I believe I need not trouble you to make any arrangements for my benefit,” replied Shaldon, firmly. “Since Miss Lydney is to have a season in Town, I must inevitably meet her there among the scores of other young ladies who are making their debut. I can then judge how much — or little — she has changed.”
“And what kind of answer do you expect me to give Lydney in the meantime?” demanded his father, angrily. “Am I to say that you will look the girl over and decide if she’ll do, as though she were — were—”
“A piece of merchandise?” supplied Shaldon, cynically. “Isn’t that precisely what you intend to make of her, between you?”
“You know well enough that such arrangements are a commonplace between families of consequence. Why, my marriage to your mother was one such.”
Shaldon gave him a straight look. “Yes, I am aware of that, sir, and it does nothing to diminish my dislike of arranged marriages.”
The Earl uttered an incoherent cry, and thumped his fist on the arm of his chair.
“You dare to defy me, boy!” he raged. “Let me tell you that when my father directed me to marry, I durst not have answered him as you’ve done, for my life! It’s a pity that you are not dependent upon me, as I was on him, and then we would see! This all comes of the Reddifords settling their estate upon you after your mother’s death. You now have a house and a fortune in your own right, and can cock a snook at me, knowing that I am powerless to force your hand!”
He paused for breath. His son sat silent; everything germane to the issue had already been said, and there was no point in enraging his father to the verge of hysteria. To Shaldon’s surprise, however, suddenly the Earl’s frenzy abated, and a look of triumph appeared on his face.
“Don’t you be too sure of that, though, my lord Viscount — just don’t be too sure!”
CHAPTER XVI
The gate in the park paling which had been so convenient to Amanda Somerby during the lifetime of her dear friend, the Countess of Alvington, was seldom used nowadays. It squeaked dismally as Viscount Shaldon pushed it open to step through into the wood beyond.
He did not know what sudden impulse had made him go on foot by this half-forgotten route to the Rectory instead of calling in at the house on his way as he drove out of the village; but once inside the familiar wood he found himself assailed by memories. It was very quiet here now. The silence closed about him as if this were a secret place and he an intruder. Yet he could remember it ringing with the shouts of children intent on some game or other, scrambling up the trees like monkeys to snatch down autumn’s glossy brown conkers, or gathering greedy armfuls of the bluebells that in spring grew there in profusion. Did they grow there still? He looked down at the ground around his feet, and detected the first green spears appearing. Of course, it was too early for them yet, but there might be primroses.
In those days, the weather must always have been fair; for his memories were of sunlight shining through the foliage, warm upon his back, and glinting on the bright hair of a little girl. Quick upon this recollection came another memory, long pushed to the depths of his consciousness. Memory of an agony so sharp that for a second he felt it again, new sprung, dragging him down with the chains of the past. And almost in the same moment, he could feel a soft cheek pressed against his own with the wordless sympathy of a child who had left him one of her treasured pets for consolation.
These were sentimental maunderings, he told himself, shaking the unaccustomed mood from him and striding purposefully forward. That boy — all those children — had vanished long since. Life moved on and people changed. There was nothing quite so certain as change.
He became aware that he was no longer alone in the wood. He heard the scurrying of animal feet through the undergrowth and the intermittent high-pitched barking of a dog. In between the excited yelps, there was the sound of someone calling, evidently trying vainly to bring the recalcitrant wanderer to heel. A few moments later a brown and white terrier puppy came bounding past him, pulled up abruptly in a flurry of paws sliding over vegetation, then raced off again, tail wagging furiously. After him came a girl, breathless and dishevelled.
“Oh, Patch, you wretched creature — stop! Stop, I say! Patch! Patch! Come here at once!”
She had almost run into the Viscount. She pulled up hurriedly on seeing him, a look of dismay crossing her face.
“Oh, dear, I do beg your pardon!” she panted. “I was chasing my dog, and I’m afraid I didn’t see you!”
Shaldon removed his hat. “No need for apologies, ma’am. Can I be of any assistance?”
“You are very good, but I must not trouble you,” she began, then broke off, staring at him with a fixity that seemed scarcely civil.
Her gaze lingered particularly on his auburn hair. He put up a hand to smooth it down, thinking that it must be in disorder and wondering cynically why she should take exception to this, considering the dishevelled state of her own.
“Oh!” she gasped, as one who has had a sudden revelation. “You are — surely you must be — Viscount Shaldon?”
He bowed. “The same. But I fear you have the advantage of me, ma’am.”
“Well, I daresay I may, for it’s not at all likely that you would recollect me from all those years ago, especially—”
She paused, blushing as she realised that there were briars clinging to her skirt, and that her hair, which had been caught up by twigs once or twice in her recent flight, must be tumbling about her face.
“Especially not looking as I must do at present,” she finished, lamely.
“Enchanting, if I may say so,” replied the Viscount promptly, with considerable address. “But I fear I can’t quite…”
He considered her appraisingly. Her hair, which had pulled loose from its pins and was floating about her face and the collar of the somewhat shabby cloak she was wearing, was of a light brown colour — honey gold, he told himself. Apart from a smudge on her face, no doubt gained in passing too close to the trunk of a tree, the effect of her delicate features and lively hazel eyes was decidedly pleasing.
It was her expression, friendly yet slightly rueful, which finally became familiar. He snapped his fingers in triumph.
“Of course! What a dolt I am! It’s Helen — Miss Somerby, I should say. And how are you, ma’am, after all these years?”
“Out of breath,” she replied, laughing. “And almost out of temper! I brought out my wretched puppy to exercise him, and only see how he serves me, running away the first moment I allow him off the lead!”
“Most reprehensible,” he agreed, gravely. “But I daresay he’ll return now that you’ve ceased to chase him. There’s positively no fun in running away without a pursuer, you know. And look — there he is.”
She turned her head to see the puppy standing only a few yards away, looking at her with its head on one side, expectantly.
“You odious creature!’ she scolded. “How dare you!”
The puppy greeted this reproach with a wild orgy of tail wagging and excited yelps, then turned to dash off again.
“Come here, sir!” commanded Shaldon, in his sternest tones.
The puppy’s tail stopped wagging and sank between its legs as it crawled abjectly forward towards the recognised voice of Authority. Shaldon stooped and held its collar with one hand while he took the lead from Helen with the other, fastening it securely in place.
“Well!” she exclaimed in disgust. “If that isn’t the outside of enough! Here have I been shouting at the creature to come to heel until I was hoarse, and at one word from you — a stranger — he capitulates! Shame on you, Patch!”
“I daresay it’s because I am a stranger, and the little chap has no real hopes of a game with me. Whereas I’m quite sure you are always romping with him.”
“Very true. Well, thank you, sir — not least for saving my face! Shall I take him now?”
“As I was about to stroll over to visit your parents,” replied Shaldon, retaining the dog’s lead, “I may as well relieve you of the responsibility. How old is he?”
“Only seven months. I daresay he’ll settle down in time, but he’s the most lively handful at present. Only last month, he chewed poor Papa’s slippers to shreds! Papa threatened that he would have to be handed over to one of the farmers, so that he could take out his hunting instincts in their barns; but I managed to propitiate Papa by working an extra handsome new pair of slippers for him. So all is forgiven for the present, until Patch does the next dastardly thing.”
She chattered on in this way for several minutes, while Shaldon enjoyed watching the changing expressions on her mobile face. The more he looked, the more memories came to him of the lively child who once had been his companion in this wood.
“Are you on a visit to the Earl?” she asked, as they came to the gate leading into the Rectory garden.
He nodded. “A short visit only. I arrived but a few hours since and have the intention of leaving as soon as I’ve visited your parents.”
She looked up alertly at his dry tone. “Oh, dear! I collect he must have been a trifle in his crotchets? He suffers much from the gout nowadays, so that may have been the reason.”
“In part, no doubt. But I believe you know my family affairs too well, Miss Somerby, not to be aware that my father and I don’t deal well together. That is why I’m not a more frequent visitor to Alvington. In point of fact, he summoned me here on this occasion.”
“He did? That sounds as though he might have wished for you to be better friends.”
He gave a short laugh. “If so, he chose an odd way of going to work. He began by ringing a peal over me on account of what he termed my seditious friends.”
“Oh.”
It was plain that this remark had aroused her ever lively curiosity, but good manners prevented her from pressing for an explanation. He seemed to understand as much, for he regarded her with a twinkle in his eye.
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