Portrait of Jonathan (2 page)

The Earl could not help but compare this family with his own. As he glanced, with affection, at his wife she looked up and caught his eye. He knew, with that inexplicable rapport between man and wife, that through her mind were passing the very same thoughts which possessed him. Evelina, Lady Melmoth, was a picture of serenity and elegance and on her beautiful face all the kindness and generosity which was her nature was shown. Melmoth revelled in his good fortune at having met such a woman and never ceased to marvel at their happiness, and he guarded the affection of his family jealously.

Melmoth's eyes moved to his eldest son, Jonathan, Viscount Eldon. He was now twenty-seven, and, Melmoth thought, it was high time he was married. Jonathan had been rather wild in his youth, of course, Melmoth reminded himself, but only natural, high spirits, nothing—degrading, like Gervase Kelvin. Of course Jonathan had become entangled with that flighty girl, Anthea, who had treated him so cruelly and had finally married Lord Thorwald, a man over twice her age but extremely wealthy. Had Jonathan really loved the girl or had it been merely youthful infatuation? Melmoth sincerely hoped it had been the latter for the girl was not worth Jonathan's affection. Melmoth smiled ruefully. The boy could never forget her, though, whilst he bore that scar down his left cheek which, rumour had it—though Jonathan had never divulged his secret to a soul as to how he had come by it—that he had fought a duel over the girl. Duel indeed, Melmoth almost snorted as he remembered his anger at the time. But that had been the last of Jonathan's wild escapades for since that time he had passed straightway into manhood and he was indeed a son to be proud of now: sometimes perhaps a little
too
serious, such a change from one extreme to the other. Perhaps he still cared for Lady Anthea—Melmoth sincerely hoped not.

His attention turned to his younger son, Giles. He was beginning to participate in the same wild escapades in which Jonathan and he himself in his youth, Melmoth had to admit, had indulged in. Still, there was no harm in the boy and age would rectify these faults—he was merely impulsive and impetuous.

There was a marked contrast between the appearances of the two brothers. Jonathan was tall and thin with brown, wavy hair and dark brown eyes. His face, once boyishly handsome, had thinned a little too much so that his cheeks were hollowed and the ugly scar down his left cheek marred his looks. His mouth, usually serious, could flicker into a smile somewhat lopsided now because of the scar, thus giving him an almost cynical twist to his smile. But his eyes were warm and kind. Over his dress he was fastidious and the cut of his clothes was immaculate—a little dark and sombre, Melmoth mused, for he himself had lived in an age of more dandified styles for men, and the latest trend In men's dress where trousers, tailed coat and even waistcoats were all of the same sober, dark hue, did not appeal to Lord Melmoth. But, he had to admit, his son Jonathan wore such clothes with a quiet air of distinction. Giles, on the other hand, wore his clothes—a little more colourful and flamboyant—with a careless, and yet somewhat dashing, air. He was not as tall as Jonathan though by no means short, broad like his father, with fair, curly hair and side whiskers. He was ever seen to be laughing, his blue eyes twinkling merrily, and Melmoth sometimes despaired of Giles ever accepting the responsibilities which life would undoubtedly hold for him. He was for ever in a scrape of some kind needing the calming influence of either Lord Melmoth or Viscount Eldon.

Tonight's outburst was a typical example of Giles' impetuosity. But, Melmoth admitted, this particular incident could not arouse the anger of either himself or Jonathan, for undoubtedly they both found themselves in agreement with Giles.

A remark by Lady Kelvin had provoked Giles' violent disagreement.

‘Lavinia is to dine with Lord Myron tomorrow evening, Lady Melmoth. I have great hopes of an alliance between Lord Myron and my daughter, though I must admit she is sadly lacking in the kind of qualities and beauty Lord Myron admires.' She paused, glancing disdainfully at her daughter. ‘But for some reason he
seems
to find her attractive.'

Her voice held a note of incredulity, and the girl blushed in embarrassment at having her person discussed with guests.

‘You are all dining with Lord Myron tomorrow night?' Lady Melmoth said conversationally.

‘Oh no. Lord Myron specifically asked that Lavinia should dine with him alone.'

There was an uneasy pause before Giles broke the silence angrily.

‘You cannot possibly contemplate such a thing!'

When the ladies had withdrawn leaving the gentlemen to their port, Lord Melmoth tried tactfully to broach the subject with Lord Kelvin.

‘Do you think it wise, Kelvin, to allow your daughter to visit Myron completely unchaperoned? He is—ahem—er—not quite the sort of man to know how to treat a young girl.' Melmoth almost smiled at his own understatement of the case.

Lord Myron was a lecherous old devil, in whose company no woman, and least of all a young, naive girl, was safe. Besides which, Myron was a business rival of Melmoth and Rowan, running a tea-transporting line of clipper ships in partnership with Lord Thorwald. Lady Anthea, in spurning Jonathan's affection in favour of Lord Thorwald, had dealt him the double blow in allying herself with the rival company. Competition between the ships of the two lines was fierce and Melmoth was not convinced that their rivals were above underhand dealings. In fact, at the first mention of a proposed liaison between Lavinia Kelvin and Lord Myron, Lord Melmoth had immediately wondered what mischief lay behind the scheme.

Gervase Kelvin was up to no good, and would, Melmoth feared, cause even more heartbreak to his father. However, he thought as he sipped his port—cheap port it was too—no doubt he would find out soon enough for it was now obvious that he and his family had been invited to dine with some definite purpose in view.

Melmoth glanced round the room. Only the area around the table was well-lit leaving the surrounding parts of the room in shadow. To a purpose, he thought, for he could discern that the furnishings were shabby and no doubt the silver upon the table was the last vestige of the wealth to which Gervase Kelvin had once had access. Now, his source of income stopped, the family had moved from house to house each time having to lower their standards until they had come to this—a furnished house in a middle-class part of London, with time-worn furnishings and personal clothing. No doubt Kelvin was after lining his coffers by compromising his daughter with Lord Myron. Heaven help the poor child! thought Lord Melmoth at once finding himself in total sympathy with his youngest son's earlier outburst.

‘See no reason why not,' Kelvin was saying, breathing heavily, his florid face redder than ever, though whether from excess of food and drink or embarrassment, Lord Melmoth was unsure.

‘But I didn't ask you here to talk about that,' he continued.

‘No?' Lord Melmoth murmured. Here it came, the reason for the invitation.

‘Truth is, Lord Melmoth.' Kelvin spoke almost respectfully for once, Lord Melmoth noticed, smiling inwardly. He tapped his lips with his forefinger and waited for his host to continue.

Kelvin's face grew hotter. ‘ Truth is, I'm in a bit of a strait, y'know. I was wondering—what I mean is—you know how things are between my father and me. I was wondering if you'd have a word with him.'

Melmoth remained silent.

‘Fact is, I'd like to come into the business, y'know. After all, I'm his only son,' he added righteously. ‘Your boys will inherit your share, surely I'm entitled to something?'

True, thought Melmoth to himself, a resounding good hiding if I am any judge. Still he remained silent, whilst Gervase Kelvin grew more and more flustered.

‘Well,' he asked, almost defensively, ‘will you?'

‘Will I—what?' Lord Melmoth asked mildly.

‘Speak to my father?'

The Earl of Melmoth appeared to meditate whilst Viscount Kelvin grew even more agitated. Melmoth saw that his two sons watched the proceedings with absorption—Jonathan with his slight sideways smile, and Giles, his blue eyes, puzzled, darting from face to face anxiously, not understanding the full depth of meaning behind the scene. Roderick Kelvin's face remained as vacant as ever.

‘Yes,' Lord Melmoth said slowly, ‘I will speak to your father.'

‘Soon?'

‘I cannot say for sure—we are not due to meet for a week or more.'

‘Can't you make it sooner than that—I'm depending upon you?'

But at that Viscount Kelvin would have to be satisfied for Lord Melmoth refused to be harried into giving a certain date for seeing Lord Rowan. Had Kelvin any idea, Melmoth thought to himself, of what he meant to tell Lord Rowan, then he would doubtless have been begging him to forget the whole idea. As it was, Gervase Kelvin seemed heartily pleased with his efforts and when they rejoined the ladies he was in great spirits, even calling his wife ‘my dear' which appeared to startle and displease her. The only object of her affections appeared to be her pimply son.

‘Come and sit here, Roddy, beside me and Lady Melmoth and tell Lady Melmoth how you absolutely adore riding. He's
such
a good horseman. Lady Melmoth. It was such a pity we had to sell our horses. However, I am hopeful things may yet take a turn for the better in the future,' and she glanced at Lord Melmoth as if to insinuate that the family's well-being lay in his hands.

‘And your daughter,' Lady Melmoth was saying. ‘Does she ride?'

‘Lavinia—good heavens no! She is a sad disappointment to us. Lady Melmoth, though I am loath to say it of my own child. She is completely without accomplishment.'

And as every eye turned to look at her, poor Lavinia blushed scarlet and could have rushed from the room in shame.

Poor child, mused Melmoth, such an innocent scrap to be sacrificed to Lord Myron's lechery. He began to study her unobserved. Although at first glance she appeared plain and uninteresting—insipid he would have said—on closer inspection, Lord Melmoth saw that she had a flawless complexion. Her hair, so unbecomingly dressed, was as black and glossy as a raven. Her sorrowful brown eyes were fringed with long, curling lashes. But she was so thin—under-nourished almost—that she looked only a child. Lord Melmoth found himself worrying about the girl's visit to Lord Myron planned for the next evening.

Could he do anything to prevent it?

He turned his gaze away from the girl and as he did so, his glance met Jonathan's eyes which at that very moment had also turned from Lavinia.

Instinctively, Lord Melmoth knew that the very same thoughts possessed his son as himself.

The Eldon family took their leave of the Kelvin household as soon as was politely possible. Immediately they were within the confines of their carriage and a safe distance was between them and their hosts, Giles once more burst forth.

‘Sir, can you do
nothing
for that poor girl?'

Lord Melmoth sighed before he replied. ‘My boy, I too have been racking my brains to think of some unobtrusive way in which we could prevent her dining with Myron, but short of resorting to tactics which would obviously be interfering, I can think of nothing, can you, my dear?'

Lady Melmoth's gentle tones replied. ‘It seems we are all of one mind, that is if Jonathan feels as we three do?' She paused and waited for her son's answer.

‘Of course I agree with you,' came Jonathan's soft voice out of the darkness. ‘But I too cannot suggest a solution.'

‘The girl is no more than a child,' Lady Melmoth said, adding with disgust, ‘it is positively wicked!'

‘She's like her paternal grandmother, poor Mélanie,' murmured Lord Melmoth.

‘Rupert, no,' his wife countered. ‘ Mélanie was a great beauty—this poor child is plain.'

‘No, dear Mama, the child has promise,' Jonathan's deep, slow tones remarked.

‘You saw it too, then?' said his father. ‘ With a little help and affection that child would be quite delightful. But she's utterly starved of attention and affection, anyone can see that. All their love, if you can call it that, is showered upon that—that apology of manhood.'

‘But what are we going to do?' repeated Giles.

But the other three occupants of the carriage had no answer for him.

The next evening by the time they anticipated that Lavinia would be on her way to visit Lord Myron, they still had no solution.

The whole family was disturbed. Giles paced the long drawing-room restlessly. Jonathan tapped the arm of his chair with the tips of his fingers, and Lord Melmoth pretended to read, but so infrequently did he turn a page that to the intelligent observer it would have been apparent that he found concentration impossible.

Only Lady Melmoth, seated on the brocade chaise-longue—a pole-screen shading the heat of the fire from her face, seemed calm and unruffled. Serenely, she stitched at her embroidery, the silks flashing in and out of the material held firmly by a wooden frame. But a moment's lapse of concentration caused her to prick her finger and admit that she too was not intent upon her occupation.

‘There must be
something
we could do. She—she might be there by now,' Giles said. His father laid down his book, cleared his throat and pulled the gold watch from his waistcoat pocket.

‘Most likely she'll just be arriving.'

‘They'll sit down to dinner almost immediately, I would think,' Jonathan murmured.

‘Then what?' Giles murmured. His mother bent her head over her embroidery. Giles turned towards his father, who cleared his throat again and picked up his book, Giles turned at last to Jonathan who met his gaze steadily.

Jonathan rose.

‘I think. Father, there would be no harm if Giles and I were to take a drive past Lord Myron's house?'