Lady Radcliffe looked torn. She was not unsympathetic to the plea, but she could not help feeling daunted by the prospect of all her children out in society – and no doubt getting up to no good – at once. She hesitated, undecided. Life seemed full of these sorts of weighty decisions this year, and since her husband’s death, she had no one to discuss them with. Except that now, Radcliffe was right there. She turned hopefully to her eldest son.
‘James, what do you think?’ she demanded.
Radcliffe paused with a spear of asparagus halfway to his mouth.
‘What do I think of …？’ he asked, warily.
‘Of whether I should let Amelia be allowed to one ball this Season. Perhaps it would not do any harm – but then, if it will not, what is the problem with waiting?’ She looked at him, expectantly. Across the table, Amelia gazed at him, pleadingly. He stared from one to the other.
‘I would like your view, James,’ Lady Radcliffe insisted when he did not speak.
Radcliffe felt himself begin to sweat. He did not know what his view was and would not feel at all qualified to give it even if he did know. Was there any harm to it? Amelia was still just seventeen, which seemed young – and yet was that the terribly dour sort of opinion his father would have had? Was a terribly dour opinion the right one, anyhow? His cravat was beginning to feel awfully tight.
‘It’s your decision, Mama,’ he said at last, tugging on his collar. ‘I would not presume to know better.’
Lady Radcliffe looked a little crestfallen to have the responsibility batted back so easily.
‘I shall think on it, Amelia,’ she said to her daughter.
Radcliffe knew he had failed to pass her test. But really, why on earth should she call upon him for these matters, when he was barely ten years older than Amelia? Just because he had the title, now, did not mean he had any more experience or wisdom than he had when his father was alive. The late Lord Radcliffe would have had an opinion, of course – and they all would have heard about it, as loud as the church bell’s ringing at St Paul’s, he thought bitterly. He would have cared: cared for what was proper or improper, cared what other families were doing, and what they would think. Whereas Radcliffe could not muster any sense of that thought or effort within himself, though it was so clearly going to be required of him more and more the longer he stayed in London. Not for the first time, a desire to leave – to escape – warred within him with the desire to remain. Life was simpler at Radcliffe Hall; there he was free from family pressures, and yet … the London Season was captivating him more this year than it had before. Some of the responsibility for this lay, he could admit, at the door of Miss Talbot – and the unpredictability she was bringing to matters – and now he had begun the Season he could not help but want to see where it – and she – ended up.
The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough, with presents exchanged and well wishes given – the food was divine, as always, and the evening ended with a towering cake that Archie dove into with gusto. Radcliffe smiled and laughed along, but he could not help but keep ruminating on his mother’s question – the one she had actually asked, and the one that was subtext – though he was no closer to reaching an answer for either when it was time to leave. He and Archie walked to the door together, Archie thanking him again for his gift.
‘You will come to me, if you need to, won’t you, Archie?’ Radcliffe said abruptly, just as Archie was about to turn for the stairs. His brother looked taken aback and Radcliffe swung his hat awkwardly in his hands. ‘You may not need to, of course, but … If you do. I know we have not spent much time together, in recent years. Perhaps we could ride out, soon, to Wimbledon again – or further afield, if you want.’
Archie nodded, his jaw working furiously.
‘I should like that,’ he said finally. ‘I should like that very much.’
He stared at his brother for a few seconds – and Radcliffe looked back, a little thrown by the strange emotional weight of the moment.
‘James—’ Archie began, stepping forward, but before he could say anything, Amelia crashed into the hallway, interrupting them.
‘Are you still here?’ she said rudely to her eldest brother.
‘I was just leaving, you unconscionable toad,’ he told her imperiously.
But the moment between him and Archie had passed, so quickly that Radcliffe wondered if he had imagined the vulnerability in Archie’s face – for it was now quite casual. Radcliffe chastised himself a little, for forcing such a serious moment on what should be a carefree day. This clumsy kind of interference was exactly, he thought, why such things were best left to his mother.