“I believe so.”
“And you sit there and tell me that in that calm, disinterested way! Roxhythe, I have never found you less to my taste!”
He looked into her flashing eyes. She was sitting very straight.
“Well, my dear, there is a remedy.” He rose. “Pray give me leave!”
She nodded angrily. My lord strolled back to the King.
Next day a note was brought to Christopher. The serving-maid bore it up to his room.
Christopher was trying to write to his brother. The task was a difficult one. It was hard to acknowledge himself to have been in the wrong throughout.
The serving-maid gave a sniff and proffered the note. When he saw Lady Frances’ handwriting a little colour came to Christopher’s pale cheeks and he tore the letter open. It was very short.
“Deare Chris.—Come and See me this After Noon.—F. M.”
“Do they await an answer?” asked Christopher.
“No, sir.” The girl twisted her apron between her fingers and giggled a little for no better reason than that she admired him. “The footman went away at once.”
“Thank you.”
The maid departed, clattering across the floor in shoes two sizes too large for her. She was something of a contrast to the well-trained lackeys at Bevan House.
That afternoon Christopher surveyed his many suits deliberately. If he was to wait on Lady Fanny he must be carefully dressed. At the back of the cupboard hung a brown velvet suit, heavily laced with gold. Christopher fingered it dreamily. He had worn this coat last when he had returned from Flanders. … Then there was the blue cloth with its cream facings. That had been bought for a garden-party at Lady Pommeroy’s house. Roxhythe had worn apricot velvet. … He put it back slowly. The lilac velvet? No. … That had been his summer suit down at Bevan last year. … The grey cloth with the pale blue ribbons? … Not that. Roxhythe had approved of that dress. What was it he had said? … Almost roughly Christopher thrust it back into the cupboard. From its depths he drew a green coat laced with silver. He had seldom worn this, thinking it ugly. Well, it should be worn now. He shut the cupboard.
An hour later he was ushered into Lady Fanny’s boudoir.
Frances looked up quickly, scanning his face as he made his leg. She was shocked at the change that had taken place. There was no sparkle in his eyes, no colour in his face. He had aged extraordinarily since last she had seen him.
“My very dear Chris!” She came forward, hands outstretched.
He took them in his.
“How kind of you to invite me, Lady Frances! I did not know you were in town.” His voice was graver than of old.
“Dear boy, it was more of a summons!” she smiled. “Now come and sit down beside me and tell me everything.” She drew him to a couch.
“I don’t think that there is much to tell,” said Christopher, trying hard to sound unconcerned. “You heard that I have left Roxhythe?”
“Yes, Chris. Tell me all about it.” She patted his hand as she spoke. “You know that I can be discreet.”
“It’s nothing, Lady Fanny. I found that I wanted to leave—so I—left.” He spoke with would-be lightness.
“Chris, that is not enough. I have seen Roxhythe, and I know that something has happened.”
“Oh, no! I was tired of playing secretary. I am a man of leisure now!”
“And do you like it, Chris?”
He looked away.
“Tell me, dear boy. …”
“I can’t!”
“You can. Roxhythe has treated you shamefully I know.”
A wry smile twisted his lips.
“Don’t say you warned me!”
“Of course I shall not! He used you in some way? tricked you?”
“That I cannot tell you. But you will be glad to know—that my eyes are open—at last.”
“I am not glad, dear. I am very, very sorry. You thought he was—”
“I thought he was the soul of honour and truth. Well, I was mistaken.”
“He has hurt you badly, then. It was bound to happen. He lives only for the King. It is his one good point.”
“Not at all. He has many good points. Don’t think that I have ceased to care for him! I love him as much as before—but I—cannot live with him. Shall we talk of something else?” His eyes pleaded.
“Yes, Chris. We will talk of what you contemplate doing.”
“I hardly know. I thought I would continue to be a man of leisure. I find I must have some occupation.”
“Quite right. What have you thought of?”
“A secretaryship, I suppose.”
Lady Frances nodded briskly.
“You’ve someone in mind?”
“Not yet.”
“Then I know the very thing for you!”
Christopher looked apprehensive.
“What is it, Lady Frances?”
“Do you know Sir Richard Worth?”
“One of the Country Party?”
“Yes; under Cavendish.”
“I believe I have seen him. I do not know him.”
“It so happens that he is in need of a secretary. Jasper knows him. You must apply for the post.”
“Oh—oh—I do not think so!”
“Indeed yes! It is the very thing for you. You want occupation, and it had best be with a man very different from Roxhythe.”
“But I doubt—I am not fitted for—public work.”
“You will learn. Your name stands in your favour—”
“And my nine years’ service to Roxhythe stands well against me.”
“That is true, of course. However, I shall see what can be done. I have bidden Sir Richard to dinner tonight. I shall talk gently to him.”
“Please do not, Lady Frances! Indeed, I do not think that I want to be his secretary!”
“Whose then?”
“I don’t know—I—”
“Very well then! No, you must not argue! You do not want to do anything but mope at home. And I say you are not to. Have you any objection to Worth?”
“No. I know nothing about him.”
“Then apply for the post. Ah, Chris, please!”
“It’s very kind of you, Lady Fanny. I’ll apply for it. After all, what odds does it make whom I serve?”
“There! I knew you would be sensible. And you’ll wait on him tomorrow?”
“If you like.”
“I do like. And Chris—don’t wear that dress! Indeed, green becomes you not.”
He smiled.
“I’ll go clad in sober
