hether the Marquis took any steps to become better acquainted with his young cousin, Frederica had no means of discovering; but he very soon redeemed his promise to demonstrate to the ton his interest in his supposed wards: thus confirming her gathering suspicion that the forgetfulness for which he was notorious was largely assumed. He called in Upper Wimpole Street to pick Charis up, and drove her round Hyde Park at the fashionable hour, several tunes reining in his grays to exchange greetings with his own friends, or to enable Charis to respond to the salutes of her many admirers. This she did very sweetly, and without a trace of coquetry. He had known many beauties, but never one as innocently unconcerned with her appearance as Charis. Nor did she seem to be at all aware of the signal honour he had conferred upon her, and the surprise and the conjectures which this gave rise to. She thanked him politely for inviting her to drive with him, but disclosed, upon enquiry, that she preferred Kensington Gardens to Hyde Park, because the flowers were so pretty, and there were several walks where one could almost fancy oneself to be in the country.

“You don’t like London?” he asked.

“Oh, yes!” she replied tranquilly. “It is very pleasant, and amusing, only not so comfortable as the country.”

“It is generally thought to be more comfortable than the country!”

“Is it?” She wrinkled her brow. “I wonder why?” “Let us say that it has more to offer in the way of entertainment.”

“Oh!” She pondered for a moment. “Yes, of course: there are theatres, and concerts, and reviews, and a great many balls. Only, London parties—though they are very splendid—aren’t as enjoyable as country ones, are they?”

“Aren’t they? Why not?”

“I don’t know. I am very stupid at explaining things,” she said apologetically. “I like best the parties where I know everyone—if you understand what I mean?” After further pause for cogitation, she added: “I daresay it is because I’m not accustomed to town-life, or the rude way people stare, if one is a stranger.”

“Very disagreeable,” he said gravely. “I perceive that I should have done better to have driven you out of town, to some sequestered spot inhabited only by yokels.”

“But you would have to go a great way for that, wouldn’t you?”

He began to feel bored, and replied somewhat dryly: “Very true.”

She relapsed into silence. After a moment, he exerted himself to open another topic of conversation, but as she had few opinions of her own to advance, merely agreeing with all he said, his boredom rapidly increased; and, after taking one more turn about the park, he drove her back to Upper Wimpole Street, mentally apostrophizing himself for having so rashly promised to throw the mantle of his protection over her. In any ordinary circumstances he would have banished all thought of her from his mind when he set her down; but the circumstances were not ordinary: he supposed he was in honour bound to invite her to drive out with him again. He did so, asking her where she would like to go. She replied impulsively: “Oh! How very kind! I should like of all things to go to Hampton Court, sir! We have been reading about it, Frederica and I, and we wish very much to visit it. Only—” She hesitated, raising her big eyes deprecatingly to his face.

“Only?” he prompted.

“Would you—would you lend us your escort, Cousin Alverstoke? I mean all of us! Or—or would you liefer not do so? The thing is that there seems to be a famous maze there, and the boys would enjoy it so much!”

Thus it came about that the Marquis found himself, a few days later, conducting a family party to Hampton Court in the barouche which, with its high-stepping horses, was so very well-known to the members of the Four-Horse Club, few of whom would have been able to believe their eyes had they seen the base use to which it was being put. His lordship was not wearing the insignia of the Club, but Jessamy, who took it in turns with Felix to sit beside him on the box, assured his sisters that anyone privileged to watch his handling of the reins would recognize him, at a glance, as one of its members.

In the opinion of the Merrivilles the expedition was quite the most delightful they had yet experienced, even Felix considering that the joys of getting lost in the maze, and being afterwards regaled at the Star and Garter with what he described as a spanking dinner, raised it above his trip to Ramsgate. So many jam tarts did he consume that his brother, calling him a snatch-pastry, said that anyone would suppose that he was starving. To which he replied cheerfully, that as he hadn’t had a bite to eat (except for a couple of ices and a few cakes, as a light nuncheon) since a breakfast of eggs, muffins, toast, and preserves, he pretty well was starving.

Owing to his forethought in having acquainted himself with the key to the maze, the Marquis spent the day far more agreeably than he had anticipated; for as soon as he had had enough of wandering about the maze he guided Frederica out of it, leaving the three younger members of the party still trying to reach the centre, all of them in high spirits, and thinking it an excellent joke every time they found themselves in a blind alley. The custodian, whose stand commanded a view of the whole labyrinth, and whose duty it was to direct exhausted persons out of it, several times offered his services, but these were unhesitatingly scorned, each of the three Merrivilles being convinced that he, or she, could discover the clue.

Frederica, strolling along the alleys beside the Marquis, was inclined to think it a lucky chance that brought them to the centre of the maze; but when he led her back to the entrance without a single mistake she looked laughingly up at him, and exclaimed: “You knew the secret! What a hoax! I was beginning to think you so clever, too!”

“Merely provident!” he replied. “The prospect of spending the better part of the afternoon between high hedges I find singularly unattractive—don’t you?”

She smiled. “Well, I own I had liefer walk about the gardens and the wilderness! But the children think it famous sport: thank you for bringing them! You are very kind, for I’m persuaded it must be a great bore to you.”

“By no means!” he answered. “It has the charm of novelty.”

“Did you never take your nephews and nieces out with you?” she asked curiously.

“Never!”

“Not even when they were children? How odd it seems!”

“It would seem very much odder if I had, I assure you.”

“Not to me.”

“It should. I warned you, Frederica, that I am neither compliant nor goodnatured.”

“Well, I must own that you are not at all good-natured to your sisters,” she said frankly. “Not that I blame you for that—at least, not altogether! They seem positively to take delight in setting up your back! I wonder they shouldn’t know that pinching at one’s brothers is fatal! But whatever you may say you are not a monster of selfishness. You wouldn’t be so kind to Jessamy and Felix if that were so.”

“Or if they bored me,” he interpolated.

“It bored you excessively to inspect that foundry,” she reminded him.

“Yes, that’s why Charles is going to take Felix to the New Mint,” he responded coolly.

“But why didn’t you send him to escort us today?” she asked, in an innocent tone at variance with the mischief in her eyes. “You cannot have supposed that such an expedition as this wouldn’t bore you quite as much as the Mint!”

He glanced down at her, half-smiling, but with an oddly arrested expression in his face. She was puzzled by it, but after a moment, she said quizzically. ‘‘Are you wondering whether you can bamboozle me into believing that you won’t entrust your team to Mr Trevor?”

“No,” he replied slowly, “though it would be true! I was thinking how well that bonnet becomes you.”

It was certainly a charming confection, with a soft pink plume curling over its poke of gathered silk; but she broke into a gurgle of laughter, exclaiming: “Oh, cousin, you are the most complete hand! Why are you so determined to make me write you down as selfish, and altogether detestable? Are you afraid I might trade upon your goodnature? I promise you I shan’t!”

“No, I’m not afraid of that.”

“To be sure, you could always floor me with one of your icy set-downs, couldn’t you?” she agreed, twinkling gaily.

“Unlikely! You’d come about again!” he retorted, guiding her towards a conveniently situated bench. “We will now sit down to await the children—unless you consider it too chilly?”

She shook her head, but said, as she disposed herself on the bench: “Much you would care if I did!”

“Unjust, Frederica! Almost as unjust as your previous observation! When, pray, have I attempted to give you a set-down?”

“Oh, when we first met! You were odiously starched-up!”

“Was I? Accept my most humble apologies, and acknowledge that I haven’t repeated the offence!”

“No, indeed you haven’t!” she said warmly. “That is, you haven’t snubbed us! But I’ve twice heard you—However, that’s no concern of mine! You don’t like to be thanked, but pray let me tell you—just once—how truly grateful I am to you! You have done much more for us than I expected—why, you even came to Luff’s rescue, and if that wasn’t kind, I should like to know what is!”

“But you did expect that of me!” he pointed out.

“I didn’t precisely expect it. I was—I was hopeful that you would! Oh, and you have never told me what it cost you to ransom him! I had quite forgotten! Pray, will you—”

“No,” he interrupted. “I neither know nor care what it cost me, and if you talk any more flummery to me, Frederica, I shall give you one of my—er—icy set-downs!”

“It’s very obliging of you, but when I asked for your help I didn’t mean that I wished to hang on your sleeve, cousin! What’s more, I won’t do it!”

“In that case I must strive to remember the exact sum I’ve disbursed on your behalf today,” he said. “I wonder why I didn’t think to keep a tally? Now, let me see! There were four tickets for the maze—oh, we paid to enter the palace, too, didn’t we? Then that comes to—”

“I wish you will be serious!” she interrupted, biting a quivering lip.

“I am being very serious. Generous, too, for I don’t mean to charge you carriage-hire.”

“Oh, don’t be absurd!” she said indignantly. “There is a great deal of difference between allowing you to discharge my debts, and paying you for our entertainment when you have invited us to drive out with you to Hampton Court!”

“Certainly, but I didn’t do so,” he said. “My services were bespoken by Charis.”

She gave a gasp. “Why, what a—a clanker!” she exclaimed, most improperly. “You know she would never have thought of such a thing if you hadn’t asked her where she would like to go!”

“Well, if you call that an invitation to drive out with me to Hampton Court, bringing her sister, and both her brothers—!”

“Odious, odious creature!” she said, trying not to laugh. “Very well, I’ll say no more. Not even thank-you! Or should I beg your pardon for having foisted myself and my brothers upon you today?”

“On the contrary! If you had cried off, I should have recalled a pressing engagement elsewhere. Charis is a most amiable girl, but not precisely needle-witted. I find it extremely difficult to converse with her—quite exhausting, in fact! She asks me what I mean, when I venture on a mild joke.”

She could not repress one of her involuntary gurgles, but she said, in swift defence of her sister: “She may not be needle-witted, but she has a great deal of commonsense, I assure you! Much more than I have, for she knows how to hold household, besides sewing exquisitely, and being able to dress a joint, and—oh, all manner of useful things!”

“Unfortunately, none of these virtues is called for when driving in the park.”

“She is certainly not a prattle-box!” retorted Frederica.

He laughed. “No, indeed!”

“I thought gentlemen did not care for females whose tongues ran on wheels!” she said.

“True, but between gabblemongering, and casting the whole burden of maintaining conversation upon one’s companion, there is a happy medium to be struck. No, no, don’t rip up! I will allow Charis to be a beauty beyond compare, besides being amiable, and virtuous! But—” He paused, a crease between his brows.

“Well?” she demanded.

He raised his eyes from frowning contemplation of the gloves he held in one hand, and turned his head to look at her. He said, with unwonted gentleness: “My child, does it never occur to you that the future you have planned for her is not what she would herself choose?”

“No, how could that be? If I were scheming for what you would call a brilliant match—but I’m not! I promise you I’m not! I only wish to see her comfortably established: not to be obliged to make and scrape, but to be able to command the—the elegancies of life!” She saw his brows lift, and added: “You think such considerations don’t signify, perhaps. Recollect that you have never known what it means to be purse-pinched!”

“I haven’t,” he admitted. “I must bow to your better knowledge of your sister, but from the little I have observed I should have said that she would find more happiness in holding household than in cutting a dash. She told me, you know, that she preferred country balls to London ones.”

“Good gracious, did she?” Frederica exclaimed, quite astonished, “She must have been funning! Only think of her success! The bouquets that are sent her! The way our knocker is never quiet! Oh, you must be mistaken, cousin!”

He saw she was looking distressed, and replied lightly: “Very possibly. In any event, I see no reason why you should fall into dejection.”

“But if she doesn’t care for those things—doesn’t wish to make a creditable marriage—I shall have done it all for nothing!” she pointed out.

“Nonsense! You at least are enjoying London life.”

“That doesn’t signify!” she said impatiently. “As though I should have dreamt of dragging the boys to London to gratify my own wishes!”

“I daresay Jessamy would have preferred to have remained at home, but it won’t hurt him to see something of the world. As for Felix, he’s as happy as a grig! I’m a little curious, however, to know what it was that made you think that Charis shares your own tastes.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t think that. Only that it was shameful to keep her hidden away, or to allow her to marry young Rushbury, or any of the other men of our acquaintance, before she had had a season.” She hesitated, and then said rather shyly: “The thing is, you see, that she is so very persuadable! She is much inclined to agree to whatever is suggested to her, and although her principles are firm, her disposition is so yielding that I own it does sometimes sink my spirits!”

“I imagine it might—if she yields to the importunities of every callow youth who dangles after her! Does she fall in love with them?”

“I don’t think she falls in love with anyone,” replied Frederica candidly. “I mean, not more with one than with another! She is a most affectionate girl, and so kind-hearted that it is enough to cast anyone into high fidgets!”

“Universally benevolent, eh? Poor Frederica!”

“You may well say so! It is such a responsibility, you see. She is bound to marry someone, and only think how shocking it would be if I allowed her to be snapped up by a callow youth, as you phrase it, who wouldn’t know how to make her happy, or by some—some basket-scrambler!”

His lips twitched, but he replied gravely: “Shocking indeed! But—er—basket-scramblers are, in general, on the catch for heiresses.”

“Well, I didn’t mean that precisely,” she conceded. “And perhaps I ought not to say that Charis doesn’t fall in love with people. I’ve never done so myself, so I can’t judge. It doesn’t seem to me that she does.”

He had been listening to her with idly appreciative amusement, but this startled him. “Never fallen in love?” he repeated incredulously. “Never, Frederica?”

“No—that is, I don’t think so! I did once feel a tendre, but that was when I was young, and I recovered from it so quickly that I shouldn’t think I was truly in love. In fact, I am much disposed to think that if I hadn’t met him at a ball, when he was wearing regimentals, I shouldn’t have looked twice at him.” She added earnestly: “Do you know, cousin, I am strongly of the opinion that gentlemen should not be permitted to attend balls and assemblies rigged out in smart dress-uniforms? There is something about regimentals which is very deceiving. Fortunately, since I believe he was quite ineligible, I chanced to meet him the very next week, when he was not wearing regimentals, so I never had time to fall in love with him. It was the most disillusioning thing imaginable!”

“Who was this unfortunate?” he asked, his eyes warm with laughter.

“I don’t recall his name: it was so long ago!”

“Ah, yes!” he said sympathetically. “Before you became so old cattish!”

“Old cattish—!” She checked herself, and then said, with a rueful smile: “Oh, dear! I suppose that is what I am!”

“Do you indeed? Then let me tell you, my child, that when you talk of when you were young you are being foolish beyond permission!”

“No, I’m not! I’m four-and-twenty, and have been on the shelf for years!” she retorted.

“Alas!” he mocked.

“Nothing of the sort! Pray, what do you think would have become of them all if I were not on the shelf?”

“I neither know nor care.”

“Well, I do know, and I care very much! What’s more, I find it very agreeable to be an old maid, and rid of tiresome restrictions! If I were of marriageable. age, I couldn’t, for instance, be sitting here at this moment, talking to you without the vestige of a chaperon! Everyone would suppose me to be setting my cap at you, besides being fast! But if the Countess Lieven, or even Mrs Burrell, were to pass by at this moment they wouldn’t lift one of their detestably haughty eyebrows, any more than they would if I were Miss Berry!”

This comparison of herself with a lady who had some six-and-fifty years in her dish almost overset his lordship. He contrived to keep his countenance, but there was a distinct tremor in his voice when he said: “Very true! I wonder that that shouldn’t have occurred to me.”

“I daresay you never gave it a thought,” said Frederica kindly.

“No,” he acknowledged. “I didn’t!”

“Why should you? Gentlemen aren’t troubled with chaperons,” she said, somewhat wistfully contemplating this happy state.

“I assure you, I have frequently been troubled by them! Very irksome I have found them!”

The wistful look vanished in a twinkle. “What a shocking creature you are, cousin!” she said affably.

“Yes, an ugly customer! Didn’t I warn you of it?”

“Very likely, but you tell so many whiskers about yourself that I daresay I wasn’t attending.” She turned her head towards him, and said, with a smile in her frank eyes: “A great many people have warned me that you are excessively dangerous! You have a sad reputation, cousin! But to us you have been more than kind—in spite of not in the least wishing to befriend us! So I don’t give a button for what anyone says of you.”

He met her clear gaze, an expression hard to read in his own eyes. “Don’t you? But that puts me on my mettle!”

“I wish you will rid your mind of the notion that I am a wet-goose!” she said severely. “Instead of talking nonsense, tell me what you know of Sir Mark Lyneham!”

“What, is he another of Charis’s suitors? My dear child, he won’t see thirty again!”

“No, but—something she said to me the other day made me wonder if perhaps she wouldn’t be happier with an older man. Someone she could depend upon for guidance, and who would take care of her, and not come to cuffs with her if he chanced to be out of temper. From what I have seen, young husbands often fly into miffs, and that would never do for Charis! She has so much sensibility that even when the boys fall into a quarrel she is made miserable. And the mildest scold utterly sinks her spirits! Well—well, I think Sir Mark would be very gentle, don’t you?”

“Since I’ve no more than a nodding acquaintance with him, I can’t say. Judging him by myself, I should think he would murder her—or seek consolation elsewhere! I can think of few worse fates than to be married to a watering-pot.”

“She is not a watering-pot! And Sir Mark would not seek consolation elsewhere! His reputation is—is spotless!”

“Ah! Well, I always did think he was a dull dog,” said his lordship.

“A man need not be dull merely because he is respectable!” she retorted.

“No, he need not, but he too often is.”

“I am informed, on good authority, that Sir Mark suffered a disappointment in his youth, and he never, until now, looked at another female!” said Frederica frostily.

“Oh, my God!” ejaculated his lordship, in accents of acute nausea. “No, no, don’t tell me more! I haven’t a strong enough stomach!”

“I shan’t,” said Frederica, eyeing him with hostility.

“You don’t seem to me to have any sense of propriety at all!”

“I haven’t.”

“Well, it’s nothing to be proud of!”

“Oh, I’m not proud! Tell me, Frederica, is that the kind of milkiness you admire?”

“Certainly!” she replied. “Respectability must always command admiration!”

“Humbug!” he remarked. “Trying it on rather too rare and thick, my child! I’m considerably more than seven, you know.”

“Well, one ought to admire it, at any rate,” she said defensively.

“That’s better,” he approved. “I was beginning to think you had a tendre for this paragon yourself, and that would never do: you wouldn’t suit, believe me!”

“Readily!” she said, laughing. “So perhaps I won’t, after all, try to cut Charis out! As if I could!”

“I can think of more unlikely contingencies,” he said.

“Can you indeed? Then either you must be all about in your head, or a bigger humbug than I am!” she said roundly.