“Oh, if that’s all—!” said Sir Bonamy, much relieved. “Very happy to be of service, my boy!” He picked up his fruit knife, adding, with a simplicity which robbed his words of self-consequence: “You couldn’t have applied to a better man!”
“Just so!” agreed Kit. “It’s quite a small matter, but it has me in rather a puzzle. If you stood in my shoes, sir—or, rather, in my brother’s—and you wished to visit someone who happened to be staying at the Pavilion, how would you set about it?”
Sir Bonamy raised his eyes from the peach, which he had begun to strip of its skin, and stared very hard at Kit. “Who?” he demanded.
“One of the Prince Regent’s guests, sir.”
“I wouldn’t,” said Sir Bonamy, turning back to his peach. “You don’t want to get mixed up in that set. Couldn’t if you did. I’m the only one of Prinny’s friends Denville is acquainted with, so what does
“A trifling matter of business, which I wish to discharge for him.”
“Well, if that’s all, my advice to you is to wait until he leaves the Pavilion,” said Sir Bonamy, dissecting his peach with finicking care.
“Unfortunately, the matter is rather urgent, sir.”
“Oh, it is, is it? Sounds to me as if that brother of yours has been getting himself into trouble! Not been playing cards in that set, has he?”
“No, he has not—which you must surely be in a better position than I am to know!” replied Kit, a little stiffly.
Sir Bonamy nodded, conveying a quarter of the peach to his mouth. “I didn’t think he had, but one never knows what these young cocks of the game will get up to next. Too rackety by half! Now, you needn’t bite my nose off! Who is it you want to visit at the Pavilion? Can’t help you if I don’t know.”
“Lord Silverdale. On a matter of business, as I have said.”
Sir Bonamy slowly consumed another quarter of the peach. “Well, if I were you, Kit, I’d tell Evelyn not to enter on any business with Silverdale. Don’t mind telling you that Prinny’s got some mighty queer cronies! He’s one of ’em. A shocking loose-screw, my boy! Never a feather to fly with, either, and has a damned nasty tongue in his head. Cuts up more characters in an evening than I would in a twelvemonth.”
“Nevertheless, sir, it is imperative that I should see him.”
Sir Bonamy turned his eyes towards him, and stared at him for several unwinking moments. “Oh! Now, look “ee, my boy! If it has anything to do with the ruby brooch your mother lost to him at play, you leave well alone! Ay, and tell your brother to do so too!”
“So you know about that, do you, sir?”
“Yes, yes, of course I know!” said Sir Bonamy. “I was there! Saw her stake it, and so did everyone else. A silly thing to do, for her luck was quite out, but nothing in it to make Evelyn get upon his high ropes! All open and above-board, you know, and everyone joking her about it, and saying it was just like her to throw her jewellery after her guineas. Why, even Silverdale himself couldn’t brew any scandal-broth out of it! So just you forget it, Kit, and tell Evelyn to take a damper!”
“I can’t do that, sir. I feel quite as strongly as Evelyn does that the brooch must be redeemed.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t try to do that!” said Sir Bonamy, putting the nectarine he had been considering back in the dish.
“But you must surely perceive—”
“No, I don’t. If you was to ask me, I should say it was a good thing your mother did lose it! It never became her, you know. In fact, I can’t think what made her take a fancy to it, for she don’t in general make mistakes of that nature. But she can’t wear rubies! Anything else, but not rubies or garnets! Don’t you try to get it back for her! Tell Evelyn to buy her another—sapphires or emeralds. She’ll like it just as well!”
“Probably better,” agreed Kit, smiling.
“There you are, then!” said Sir Bonamy. “Damme, Kit, you’ve cut your eye-teeth! Don’t you go stirring coals! Stupid thing to do, because you may depend upon it Silver-dale sold it weeks ago!”
“I am very sure he didn’t,” said Kit.
“You know nothing about it! Silverdale’s going to pigs and whistles, and that brooch was worth a monkey if it was worth a groat.”
Kit hesitated before saying: “I fancy I needn’t hide my teeth with you, sir. It isn’t worth more than a pony—if as much. It is nothing but trumpery: a copy of the real brooch.”
“Nonsense!” said Sir Bonamy testily.
“I wish it were nonsense, but I’m afraid—”
“Well, it is nonsense. Good God, you don’t suppose Silverdale’s a flat, do you? Because he ain’t!”
“I don’t suppose it occurred to him that my mother would have staked it, if—”
“No, and nor did she!” interrupted Sir Bonamy. “Told you I was there, didn’t I? If you think I’d have let her put up a piece of trumpery, you’ve got less rumgumption than they give you credit for: more of a beetlehead than one of the tightish clever sort! The only advice I’m giving you is to tell young Denville to stop trying to raise a dust!”
He shot Kit an angry glare, and found that he was being steadily regarded. “Mama told me herself that she had sold that brooch, sir,” said Kit. “I recall, furthermore, that she also told me that you had several times sold trinkets for her.”
“Well, I didn’t sell that brooch for her.”
“Did you ever sell
“Now, look ’ee, Kit. I’ve had enough of you trying to nose out what’s no concern of yours!” said Sir Bonamy, in a blustering tone. “Damme if you’re not getting to be as bad as your brother! Well, I won’t have it! Couple of impudent halflings I knew when you was fubsy, muffin-faced brats in the same cradle! What your mother saw in you I never could make out!”
Kit could not help laughing, but he said: “That’s all very well, sir, but it won’t do, you know. It is very much our concern—and you know that too!”
Sir Bonamy, who was looking hot and harassed, groped for his snuff-box, and fortified himself with a liberal pinch.
“Now, you listen to me, my boy!” he said. “You’ve no reason to meddle, either of you! No one knows anything about the business, and never will, so if you’re afraid of its leaking out and starting a scandal—”
“Believe me, sir, I’m not in the least afraid of that, and nor will Evelyn be!”
“For God’s sake, Kit, don’t go blabbing it all to Evelyn!” begged Sir Bonamy, alarmed. “It’s bad enough having to put up with you poking and prying into my business, without having that young make-bait buzzing round me like a hornet! I knew your mother before you was born or thought of, and, what’s more, if it hadn’t been for Denville,
“Yes, sir,” said Kit meekly. “But you can’t expect us to allow my mother to stand in your debt!”
Sir Bonamy’s little round eyes started at him, and his cheeks began to assume a purple hue. “Oh, I can’t, can’t I? Bumptious, that’s what you are, my boy! Next you’ll be asking me to render up an account! Well, that’s where you’ll be bowled out, because I won’t do it, and it’s not a bit of good pestering your mother about it, because she don’t know, bless her heart!”
“Sir, we
“Well, you’ll learn your mistake! You can tell Evelyn it’s none of his business, because it all happened before your father died. And don’t you try to pay me for that curst brooch, for I won’t have it! Good God, boy, what the devil is it to me, a miserable monkey?”
“If it was you who bought the Denville necklace, sir, Mama must be thousands in your debt!”
“Well, that’s nothing to me either! Thought you knew that!”
“Everyone knows you’re as rich as Golden Ball, sir, but it’s beside the point.”
“No it ain’t,” said Sir Bonamy crossly. “You’ve got no right to stop me spending my blunt anyway I choose— not that I’d put it beyond you to try!”
“Sir, I do beg of you—”
“No, no, you keep your tongue between your teeth, Kit! Getting to be a regular jaw-me-dead! You’ll only
