Author: Georgette Heyer
Category: Historical
Go to read content：https://readnovelfree.com/p/35282_11
‘Of course he doesn’t! Don’t be so rag-mannered!’ his brother admonished him. ‘I beg your pardon, sir: he has windmills in his head!’
‘Not windmills: railway locomotives,’ replied Alverstoke. He looked down at Felix. ‘Isn’t that it? Some sort of steam-locomotive?’
‘Yes, that’s it!’ said Felix eagerly. ‘Trevithick’s, sir. I don’t mean the Puffing Devil: that ran on the road, but it caught fire, and was burnt.’
‘Ay! and a very good thing too!’ interjected Jessamy. ‘Steam-engines on the roads! Why, they would send every horse mad with terror!’
‘Oh, pooh! I daresay they would soon grow used to them. Besides, I’m not talking of that one. The one I mean runs on rails – at fifteen miles an hour, and very likely more!’ He turned his attention to Alverstoke again. ‘I know it was brought to London, because Mr Rushbury – my godfather – told me so, and how you could ride in it for a shilling. He said it was north of the New Road, and not far, he thought, from Montague House.’
Forbidden Desire - BDSMCheck out the best interactive novels on Whispers: Interactive stories.
‘I believe it was,’ said Alverstoke. ‘From some cause or another I never visited it, but I do seem to recall that the inventor – what did you say his name is?’
‘Trevithick! The first locomotive he made has five wagons, and it can carry ten tons of iron and seventy men, but only at five miles an hour. It’s in Wales – I forget the name of the place – but the one here has one carriage, and –’
‘Will you bite your tongue, you abominable little bagpipe?’ interrupted Jessamy. ‘Anyone would take you for a regular shabster, rattling on like that, and not allowing Lord Alverstoke to edge in a word!’
Abashed by this rebuke, Felix hastily begged his lordship’s pardon; but Alverstoke, amused by him, said: ‘Nonsense! I can always edge in a word – when I wish to! There was such a locomotive, Felix, but I am afraid it’s a thing of the past. I rather think that Trevithick hired some ground, near Fitzroy Square, fenced it in, and laid down a circular track. As I recall, it created quite a stir, but although a great many people went to see it, few could be persuaded to ride in it – and none at all after a rail broke, and the engine overturned! So it had to be abandoned. It must have been quite ten years ago.’ He smiled, seeing the look of disappointment on Felix’s countenance. ‘I’m sorry! Are you so interested in locomotives?’
‘Yes – no – in engines!’ stammered Felix. ‘Steampower – c-compressed air – ! Sir, have you seen the pneumatic lift at that foundry in Soho?’
‘No,’ said his lordship. ‘Have you?’
‘They wouldn’t let me,’ replied Felix sadly. A thought occurred to him; and, fixing his ardent eyes on Alverstoke’s face, he asked, with pent breath: ‘If you wished to see it – could you?’
Frederica, who had resumed her seat, said: ‘No, no, Felix! Lord Alverstoke does not wish to! You mustn’t plague him to take you there!’
She was right: Alverstoke had not the remotest desire to inspect a pneumatic lift, but he found himself unable to resist the pleading look in the eyes raised so hopefully to his. He sat down again, smiling a little ruefully, and replied: ‘I expect I could. But you must tell me more about it!’
At this, Jessamy, well-aware of what would be the outcome of such an invitation, directed an anguished glance at Frederica, but although her eyes twinkled responsively she made no attempt to silence her small brother.
It might have been a task beyond her power. It was seldom that Felix met with encouragement to expatiate on a subject which few people understood, and most thought boring. His eyes brightening, he dragged up a chair, and tried to explain the principles governing pneumatic lifts. From there it was a small step to the pattern-shop engine, which was driven by air from the blowing-machine in the same foundry; and within a very short space of time Alverstoke was being battered by oscillating cylinders, piston-rods, cross-tails, valve-gears, and blast-pipes. Since Felix’s understanding of these mysteries was naturally
imperfect he was somewhat incoherent; and his thirst for knowledge led him to bombard Alverstoke with questions, few of which his lordship could answer satisfactorily. However, he had just enough grasp of the subject to enable him to avoid revolting Felix by posing counter-questions betraying the abysmal ignorance which, in that young gentleman’s opinion, rendered his brothers and sisters contemptible, and to promote him from the status of an irrelevant visitor to that of prime favourite. He was the most intelligent auditor Felix had encountered: a regular right one, who could even be pardoned for saying, apologetically: ‘You know, Felix, I know more about horses than engines!’
This confession, dimming his lustre a trifle in Felix’s eyes, instantly raised him in Jessamy’s esteem. Jessamy demanded to know whether the turn-out he had noticed in the street, and which he described as having a lot of sort about it, belonged to his lordship; and, upon learning that it did, swept his junior aside, and engaged the Marquis in a discussion of the points to be looked for in prime carriage-horses.
Had it been suggested to the Marquis that he should spend half-an-hour with two schoolboys, he would have excused himself without a moment’s hesitation. It was rarely that boredom did not overcome him in any company, but he was not bored. The only son of ceremonious parents, and the youngest of their progeny, he had no experience of family-life as it was enjoyed by the Merrivilles; and since his nephews, produced, when children, in their best clothes for his inspection, and warned of retribution if they did not mind their manners, had appeared to him to be as dull-witted as they were inarticulate, he was agreeably surprised by the young Merrivilles. His sisters might not have approved of their frank, easy ways, or of the total want of diffidence which they considered proper in schoolboys, but he thought them a well-mannered and refreshing pair, and encouraged them with a tolerance which would have astonished those who were best acquainted with him.
He liked them, but there was a limit to his endurance, and when Felix, elbowing Jessamy out of the conversation, sought enlightenment on tubular boilers, recoil-engines and screw-propellers, he laughed, and got up, saying: ‘My dear boy, if you want to know about steamboats, take a trip down the Thames – don’t ask me!’ He turned towards Frederica, but before he could take his leave of her the door opened, and two ladies entered the room. He looked round, and the words of farewell died on his lips.
Both ladies wore walking-dresses, but there the resemblance between them ended. One was a gaunt female, of uncertain age and forbidding aspect; the other was the most ravishing girl his lordship, for all his wide experience, had ever laid eyes on. He realised that he was looking at Miss Charis Merriville, and that his secretary had not overrated her beauty.
From her shining head of golden curls to her little arched feet, neatly shod in kid boots, she presented a picture to take any man’s breath away. Her figure was elegant; her ankles well-turned; her complexion had inspired several admirers to liken it to damask roses, or to ripe peaches; her tender mouth was exquisitely curved; her nose, escaping the aquiline, was straight, with delicately carved nostrils; and her eyes, which gazed innocently upon the world, were of a heavenly blue, and held an expression of candour, and the hint of a wistful smile. She wore a modest bonnet with a curtailed poke; and her dress was concealed by an azure blue kerseymere pelisse. The Marquis’s hand groped instinctively for his quizzing-glass; and Frederica, observing this with sisterly satisfaction, introduced him to her aunt.
Miss Seraphina Winsham, having had the introduction repeated to her in stentorian accents by her nephews, subjected his lordship to a hostile stare, and uttered, repulsively: ‘I daresay!’ She then added: ‘Oh, go away, do!’ but as this was apparently addressed to Lufra, who was frisking about her, his lordship stood his ground. The slight bow he made won no other response than a curt nod, and an even more repelling stare. Miss Winsham, informing Frederica darkly that it was just as she had expected, stalked out of the room.
‘Oh, dear!’ said Frederica. ‘She’s in one of her twitty moods! What has put her all on end, Charis? Oh, forgive me! – Lord Alverstoke – my sister!’
Charis smiled at his lordship, and gave him her hand. ‘How do you do? It was a very civil young man, Frederica, in Hookham’s library, who got a book down from the shelf for me, because I couldn’t quite reach it. He was most obliging, and even dusted it with his handkerchief before he gave it to me; but my aunt thought him a coxcomb. And they were unable to supply us with Ormond, so I brought away the Knight of St John instead, which I daresay we shall like quite as well.’
These words were spoken in a soft, placid voice; and the Marquis, under whose critical eyes the beauties of many seasons had passed, noted with approval that this one, the most stunning he had yet beheld, used no arts to attract, but, on the contrary, seemed to be unconscious of her charms. As one who had figured for years as the most brilliant catch on the Matrimonial Market, he was accustomed to meet with every artifice designed to ensnare him; and it was with approbation that he recognised the younger Miss Merriville’s unconcern. He asked her how she liked London; she replied that she liked it very well; but her attention was otherwhere, and she made no effort to pursue this opening, saying instead, in mildly reproachful accents: ‘Oh, Felix-love, you’ve torn a button from your coat!’
‘Oh, botheration!’ responded Felix, hunching an impatient shoulder. ‘It don’t signify!’
‘Oh, no, not a bit!’ she agreed. ‘Frederica made the tailor supply us with another set, don’t you recall? I’ll sew one on for you in a trice. Only come with me! you can’t go about the town looking like a shag-rag, now, can you?’
It was evident that the youngest Merriville saw no objection to presenting himself to the town in this guise; but equally evident was his acceptance of his elder sister’s authority, when he received, in answer to his glance of entreaty, a decided nod. He said sulkily: ‘Oh, very well!’ but, before suffering himself to be led away by Charis, took his leave of the Marquis, and said eagerly: ‘And you will take me to Soho, won’t you, sir?’
‘If I don’t, my secretary shall,’ replied Alverstoke.