Frederica Read online

  But as it was obvious that not the most severe punishment would outweigh in his mind the bliss of his stolen holiday, with the privilege of being sea-sick on the way from Margate to Ramsgate, and becoming smirched from head to foot with oil and grime, Frederica imposed no penalty, merely begging Jessamy to keep a watch on him. Unlike Charis, who had a great deal of sensibility, and had spent a sleepless night, listening for the truant's return, and conjuring up hideous visions of the accidents which might have befallen him, she had remained (in spite of some inevitable qualms) outwardly calm, adducing, when reproached by Charis, the numerous occasions when Felix, having thrown his loving sisters into agonies of apprehension, had reappeared, not a penny the worse for some hair-raising adventure. In this view she was supported by Miss Winsham, who said that the dratted boy was like a cat: you might fling him as you chose, but he would always land on his feet.

  Jessamy, torn between disapproval and secret admiration of his junior's enterprise, accepted the charge laid upon him, and forbore to give Felix (much to that young gentleman's surprise) more than a mild scold. Fixed though his resolve was not to fritter away his time in London, he frequently knew an impulse to cast aside his books, and to sample at least some of the recreations offered by the Metropolis. Frederica's request furnished him with an unassailable excuse for yielding to his baser self; and although he did drag Felix up the three hundred and forty-five steps of the Monument, informing him, when, for the sum of sixpence apiece, they stood on the iron balcony at the top, that it was twenty-four feet higher than Trajan's Pillar, that was the first and last educative expedition of a memorable week. Once Felix had ascertained that the New Mint, with its powerful steam-engines, and its gas-lighting, could only be visited by special recommendation, he was perfectly ready to enjoy some less improving sights, such as the lions and tigers at Exeter 'Change; an Aquatic Representation at Sadler's Wells; a roaring melodrama at the Surrey Theatre; and a sparring-match at the Fives-Court, in St. Martin's Street. But at this point Jessamy's uncomfortable conscience intervened, and he refused to take Felix either to a burletta, or to the Cock-pit Royal. Never having seen a more exciting theatrical performance than some Scenes from Shakespeare, enacted at Christmas in his godfather's house, he had been carried away by the melodrama, and had turned a deaf ear to his conscience, which had whispered to him that in taking Felix to the Surrey Theatre he had exposed his tender mind to corruption; but when he saw the company assembled in the Fives-Court there was no possibility of ignoring his conscience, which positively shouted at him that he was not only leading his young brother into haunts of vice but was himself in danger of succumbing to the wicked lures of London. Such counter-attractions as St. Paul's Cathedral, the Tower, or Bullock's Museum having been unequivocally scorned by Felix, he had the happy notion of proposing a trip from the Paddington Basin by passage-boat on the Grand Junction Canal to Uxbridge; and Felix might have been obliged to submit to this voyage (which, to one who had experienced the joys of the steam-packet, could not be anything but a dead bore), had he not discovered, in his guide-book, the existence of the Peerless Pool. This spacious bathing-place, with its covered bath, its bowling-green, its library, and its fish-pond, was situated in Moorfields, behind Bethlehem Hospital. Jessamy, who was beginning to know his London, suspected, from its location, that it might not be a genteel resort; but when he learned that it had formerly been known as the Perilous Pond, from the number of persons who had been drowned while swimming in it, his objections to visiting it naturally vanished. He readily agreed to go there, mentally resolving, however, not to allow Felix to plunge into the Pool until he had satisfied himself (by experiment) that it was reasonably safe for him to do so. But as the Perilous Pond had long since been converted into a bathing-place of perfect safety, and was, on a brisk spring day, quite deserted, the brothers tacitly decided to postpone swimming in it until rather later in the season.

  Felix naturally told the rest of the family about the Peerless Pool, and how he and Jessamy had made up their minds to go there again, when the weather became warmer; but when he was alone with Jessamy he said that he didn't mean to tell them about the visit to the Fives-Court. ‘You know what females are!' he said. ‘They'd very likely set up a screech – just as if there was any harm in watching a good mill!'

  These lighthearted words were the final blow to his brother's sensitive conscience. They made Jessamy realise that not only had he too taken care to say nothing about the visit to the Fives-Court, and the Surrey Theatre, but that he had crowned his iniquity by teaching Felix (by his own example) to be deceitful. The austere expression, dreaded by his family, hardened his eyes, and thinned his lips; and he said: ‘No, but I shouldn't have taken you there, and I mean to tell Frederica about it. There was no harm in the bouts themselves, but in the company – the betting – the – well, never mind, but it was very wrong of me to introduce you into such a place!'

  ‘Oh, fudge – Jessie!' said Felix disgustedly.

  He was prepared for battle, but although Jessamy's eyes flashed he ignored the insult, and turned away.

  Frederica, when the tale was manfully disclosed to her, took a lenient view. She did not think that a twelve-year-old boy stood in much danger of being corrupted by witnessing either an exciting melodrama, or a bout of fisticuffs; and even when Jessamy told her that there had been aspects to the melodrama which were decidedly immoral, she said, with strong commonsense: ‘I don't suppose he paid the least attention to what may have been a trifle warm: all he cared for was the adventure! Of course it wouldn't do to make a practice of taking him to see such plays, but don't tease yourself, Jessamy! You've done him no harm at all, depend upon it! As for the boxing, I think it perfectly horrid, but I know very well that gentlemen of the first consideration see nothing wrong with it. Why even your godfather –'

  ‘It wasn't the boxing, but the company,' Jessamy said. ‘I didn't know – but I might have guessed! – that I, who mean to enter the Church, was leading my little brother into bad ways!'

  Recognising the signs of what her brother Harry rudely called the Early Christian Martyr, Frederica said hastily: ‘Nonsense, Jessamy! You are refining too much upon it! You may have noticed the company, but all Felix cared for was the fights.'

  ‘It seems to me,' said Jessamy heavily, ‘that ever since we came to London you have thought of nothing but ball-dresses for Charis, and – worldly things!'

  ‘Well, if I didn't think of them, who would?' she replied. ‘Someone must do so, you know, or where should we be?' She looked quizzically at him. ‘Never mind moralising, my dear, but try for a little worldly sense yourself, and stop encouraging our neighbour to haunt us!'

  ‘Haunt us!' he repeated, frowning. ‘If you mean that he is friendly and obliging –'

  ‘I don't, goose! I mean that he is dangling after Charis, and fast becoming a great nuisance.'

  ‘If you don't like him, why don't you tell Charis to keep a proper distance? Very pretty behaviour it would be for me to be giving him a set-down! Besides, why should I? He speaks to Charis with the greatest respect, I promise you. What's more, it was I who became acquainted with him, days before he met Charis!'

  Her eyes danced, but she said gravely: ‘So it was!'

  ‘And his mother came to visit you, too, which I thought very kind and civil! Why were you so starched up? Yes, and why did you fob her off when she invited us all to dine, and spend a snug evening in their house? Isn't she a respectable person?'

  ‘Eminently so, I daresay, but it would not do to become intimate with that family, or with their friends. To be plain with you, Jessamy, they may be good, worthy people, but they aren't up to the rig! Mrs Nutley's patronage cannot give us consequence – in fact, it would be excessively harmful! Her manners, you know, are not distinguished, and, from what Buddle tells me, Mr Nutley is a very ungenteel person.'

  ‘Buddle!' he ejaculated.

  She smiled. ‘My dear, if Buddle holds up his nose you may depend upon it he is right! Papa o