An Indecent Gambit

Chapter Nine: The Left-Hand Part

James was no great sportsman, but he had a keen appreciation for his figure, and in his pursuit of maintaining it was in the habit of riding through the park every afternoon. The next afternoon, he heard a rider draw up beside him on the bridle path and, on turning, was surprised to discover it was Mr Follet, sitting very correctly but stiffly in the saddle.

"Good day," Mr Follet called above the canter of the horses' hooves.

"Good day," James said, expecting Mr Follet to pass him.

"You are," Mr Follet called, "a decent young man."

James's gelding shied away from Mr Follet's horse, and James was prevented replying.

"I know you are," Mr Follet shouted, "for your father has often spoken of your better qualities."

James could see that Mr Follet had accosted him not merely for a greeting but to have a conversation. He debated galloping away before deciding it would be futile and slowed his horse to a walk. Mr Follet kept pace beside him.

"Do keep away," James said irritably. "Your mare has a nippy look in her eye, and my gelding is shy."

Mr Follet obligingly drew his horse a little further away but did not fall back. "When your father first came to me about you marrying Grace," he said, "he was keen to stress your better qualities. You've an amiable temper. You are loyal to your friends. Loyal to your family too. He knows how your mother gets on your nerves, yet you've never raised your voice against her. And he told me how, when he was very sick when you were eight years old, you spent days by his bedside keeping him company even though he was senseless most of the time."

"There is a formidable but coming, isn't there?" James said, made uncomfortable by the sudden recollection of distant and unhappy memories.

"I am not happy with the way you are treating Grace."

"It is possible that my father does not know me as well as he believes," James said. "I'm not convinced I do have an amiable temper. As for what I did when I was eight — well that was twenty years ago."

"Men don't change," Mr Follet said. "What one is as a child, one will be as a man. Besides, your father did not hesitate to mention that you are also childish, possessed of fits of destructive energy, a hedonist, and — worst of all — mistakenly believe yourself to be in possession of what you call wit and wiser men call impertinence."

That was a much more comfortable accusation. James could quite well imagine his father saying that.

"I do not expect you to give Grace a false idol to worship," Mr Follet said. "I should not like for her to worship a false idol to begin with — she has done so before. She has a certain romantic twist to her nature that makes her susceptible to it. But she is an innocent young woman, Redwood, quite ignorant of the reality of a man's world. She is to be protected from it." His voice became chilly. "Not to be dashed up against it in one of your fits of destruction or impertinence."

Then Grace had told her father about what he had said yesterday. Perhaps James shouldn't be surprised. But if Mr Follet talked to his father about it, James's plan would be ruined. Mr Redwood would never return James's allowance if he suspected that James was trying to use Grace to weasel out of the arrangement.

"I didn't mean to hurt her feelings," James said. "I thought she ought to understand the kind of man I am. Better for her to find out before we marry than after."

"Whatever she does find out, let her find out gently," Mr Follet said. "She has delicate sensibilities, Redwood, and I will not see them violated."

James bowed his head in acknowledgement. "I will be more careful, Sir."