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  He found his mama reclining upon a sofa in her dressing-room, a shawl spread over her feet, and a handkerchief redolent of aromatic vinegar clutched in one hand. She had removed her cap, and her carefully curled locks were in considerable disorder.

  Lady Legerwood, the only surviving offspring of Mr Penicuik’s third sister, Charlotte, was a fair woman, with more style than beauty, her large blue eyes being a little too prominent, and her chin showing a tendency to recede. The punctual presentation to her lord of six hopeful children had slightly impaired her figure, but she was generally considered to be a pretty woman; and, since she was as good-natured as she was foolish, she was almost universally liked. She was uncritically fond of her husband, doted upon her children, and was much addicted to what her uncle would unquestionably have termed extravagant frivolity.

  The unexpected sight of her eldest son appeared to exercise a strange influence over her. She reared herself up on the sofa, her eyes dilating, and, throwing out a repelling hand, ejaculated: ‘Freddy! Have you had them?’

  ‘Eh?’ said Freddy, startled. ‘Had what, ma’am?’

  ‘I cannot recall!’ declared his parent, pressing the hand to her heated brow. ‘Meg has not! I remember that, because when poor Charlie had them we sent her to stay with Grandmama, for it was at the very moment when I was about to present her, you know, and only think how dreadful it would have been! I have been racking my brains to try to recollect whether you have had them, not that it signifies, I daresay, for you don’t live here now, which is a thing I cannot like, for I am sure they cannot make you comfortable in those rooms of yours, only your papa would not let me say a word against it, and no doubt he knows what is best, only if they air the sheets properly it is more than I would bargain for! But heaven forbid, Freddy, that I should keep you tied to my apron-strings!’

  ‘Yes, but what’s amiss?’ demanded Freddy, dutifully bending over the sofa to kiss one scented cheek.

  Pausing only to clasp him to her bosom, and to return his salute with fervour, Lady Legerwood uttered fatally: ‘The measles!’

  ‘Oh! Had ’em at Eton,’ said Freddy.

  Lady Legerwood shed tears of thankfulness.

  ‘Who’s got ’em now?’ enquired Freddy, mildly interested.

  ‘All of them!’ replied her ladyship dramatically. ‘Fanny and Caroline, and poor, poor little Edmund! I am quite distracted, for although I don’t doubt Fanny and Caroline will speedily recover, Edmund is so full of them that I am in constant dread! I was up with him all the night, and am but now seizing a few moments upon my couch, as you see! You know how delicate Edmund has always been, my love!’

  There were many elder brothers who might have cavilled at this statement; and certainly the Honourable Charles Standen, at present at Oxford, would have had no hesitation in giving it as his opinion that Edmund had been pampered from his cradle; but Freddy was as kind-hearted and as uncritical as his mother, and he only said: ‘Poor little fellow!’

  Lady Legerwood squeezed his hand gratefully. ‘He will not suffer anyone but me to wait on him! I have been obliged to put-off every engagement. We ought to be at Uxbridge House at this very moment—but I don’t regret it, for I should think myself the most unnatural mother alive if I could go to parties when my beloved children were sick! But nothing could be more unfortunate, Freddy! You must know that Lord Amherst has taken Buckhaven off with him on this stupid Chinese mission, and now here is Old Lady Buckhaven—and one can scarcely blame her, for I am sure Meg is so shatterbrained she should not be left alone!—declaring your sister must stay with her in the country until Buckhaven returns! It may be a year, or even more, and no one need think I do not feel for Meg in this predicament. But how could I reconcile it with my conscience, Freddy, I ask you, to bring her into this house of infection, when I know she never had the measles! I do not scruple to tell you, dearest, that she is expecting an interesting event in the autumn. So sad to reflect that Buckhaven must needs be from home upon the occasion, but your dear papa says it is a great honour that Amherst should have chosen to take him! So you must not wonder at it that you find me almost prostrate. My Benjamin so ill, not to mention his dear little sisters, and my eldest daughter—indeed, my eldest-born, for never shall I forget my disappointment when I learned I had given birth to a female, not that your papa ever spoke a word of blame to me, and only eighteen months later you were born, my dearest, so all was right!—Well, as I say, my eldest daughter requiring me to save her from her mama-in-law—an excellent female, of course, but so straitlaced, Freddy, that one’s heart quite bleeds for poor Meg! And I cannot reconcile it with my conscience to uphold Meg in her determination to remain in Berkeley Square while Buckhaven is from home! If only she would consent to Cousin Amelia’s going to live with her! But she will not, and I must own, my dear son, that I should not care for it myself, for you know what Cousin Amelia is! Yet what else can I suggest?’

  Freddy made no attempt to answer this, but, fastening on to the most incomprehensible part of his mother’s somewhat involved speech, demanded: ‘Why should Buck go to China? Silly thing to do!’

  ‘Oh, Freddy, if I have said so once I have said it a hundred times! But Papa tells Meg she should be gratified to see her husband singled out for the mission. Do not ask me what it is about, for I am sure I cannot tell you! It is something to do with the injustice of those horrid mandarins to our traders, but for my part I think Buckhaven would have done better to have stayed at home. Why, he and poor Meg have not been married a year! But tell me, dearest, where have you been this age? You said you were going into Leicestershire, but I quite thought you told me you would be in town again before this.’

  ‘Very good sport,’ explained Freddy. ‘As a matter of fact, did come back, two days ago. Meant to wait on you, ma’am, but the thing was, found I had to go to Arnside.’

  ‘Arnside!’ exclaimed Lady Legerwood. ‘Never tell me Uncle Matthew is dead?’

  ‘Oh, no, he ain’t dead!’ said Freddy. ‘Pity, if you ask me! Sent for all of us.’

  ‘All of you?’

  ‘Great-nephews. At least, Dolph would have it he didn’t send for George, and I daresay he was right. No reason why he should have. Claud couldn’t go, of course, and Jack didn’t choose to.’

  ‘Freddy, is my uncle making his Will at last?’ asked her ladyship eagerly.

  ‘That’s it. Ramshackle sort of business. Leaving his fortune to Kitty, provided she marries one of us.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Thought you’d be surprised,’ nodded Freddy. ‘Poor girl didn’t want to marry Dolph—stands to reason she wouldn’t! Didn’t fancy Hugh either. I wouldn’t, myself. Prosy sort of a fellow! Long and the short of it is, ma’am, she accepted me!’

  His mother’s eyes started at him. ‘Freddy!’ she said faintly. ‘You offered for Kitty Charing?’

  Mr Standen perceived that his announcement was productive of more astonishment than delight, and blushed. ‘Thought you’d be pleased,’ he said. ‘Time I was getting married. Dash it, ma’am, told me so not a month ago!’

  ‘Yes, but—Oh, Freddy, I believe it is a take-in! How can you be so—? Now, tell me it is untrue!’ He shook his head, resolutely, adhering to his promise, made to Miss Charing, not to tell his parents any such thing. Lady Legerwood sank back against the sofa-pillows, and pressed the vinegar-soaked handkerchief to her brow. ‘Oh, good heavens! What can have possessed you? Surely you have never—Freddy, do not tell me you have offered for Kitty for the sake of Uncle Matthew’s fortune!’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ replied Freddy. ‘It’s what everyone else will tell you, though. Bound to!’

  She stared at him. ‘But is it possible that you can have a tendre for the girl? I thought you had not been to Arnside above half-a-dozen times since you left school! How comes this about? I declare, you have set my poor head in such a whirl—! Heavens, what will your father say to this?’