finery.”
“He never had the chance, had he? He’s a Penholme, you know. There’s a streak of the peacock in us all, no denying. He’d have decked himself out if he’d ever had two pennies to rub together. He always had to wear Charlie’s reach-me-downs. He said, when I asked why he didn’t grab himself a new pair of boots from Charlie’s lot, that he’d felt the pinch of Charlie’s boots for the last time. Said it in a bitter way, though he tried to hide his feelings.”
“Your mother was always fond of Alex. Could she not have done something for him?”
“She did the best thing, as it turns out. Set aside what monies she could keep her hands on and left it to Alex when she died. It was all that allowed him to buy his commission and outfit himself for the army. Charlie wouldn’t give him a penny, after Alex running Penholme for him for eighteen months. Lord, what a time it was. A fight every time Charlie deigned to come home. He’d rip up at Alex for the dwindling income, and Alex would shout at him that he needed more money to do this and that about the place. But in the end, Charlie could always turn Alex up sweet. Tell him he couldn’t get on without him. He’d give him the money next quarter or next year or what have you. Charlie had a lot of charm. Maybe too much, but in the end, Alex finally saw through him.”
“He left because of Charlie’s selling the Leicester place, you mentioned.”
“The groundwork was set before that. Alex was driven to his wits’ end. He said there was no point his trying to hold things together if Charlie was determined to put us all in the poorhouse. He didn’t even have the decency to tell Alex he’d sold the Leicester place. Alex learned it from his agent and thought at last that he was going to get money to handle matters here, but it turned out it was only to pay gambling debts. He saw he’d have to make his own way in the world, for it was clear as a peddler’s pikestaff by then that Charlie had no intention of turning Sawburne over to him. Alex even felt that the Hall might be lost in the long run, and—oh, you had to be there, Annie. I think Alex felt he had to build up something to look after the family, a career for himself, in case the worst happened. Mind you, he didn’t tell me that in so many words, but he was really the one we looked to as a father. He didn’t actually say so. He didn’t say much, really. Well, he couldn’t. He was demmed near bawling when he said good-bye to me, if you want the truth. You know how his jaw and throat muscles kind of clutch into a knot when he’s beyond words.”
Anne listened reluctantly, not wanting to believe, but Robin’s forthright story had to be true. Every fact substantiated it. Her wonderful hero, her beloved, shining Charles, was a miserable, selfish fool. How could she have been so unseeing? How had she admired Charles and his “charm,” which was just another word for not caring, for selfishness? Worse, how had she never appreciated that quiet Alex was the real man of the family, the master—in all but authority. How different things would have been had he been born the elder son. But he was the eldest son now. It wasn’t too late.
“We aren’t usually excluded from family gossip at Rosedale. How does it come no one told us about this?”
“Folks like to hide their troubles, I suppose. Rosedale was like an oasis, Annie. It was nice to go there and just get away from the squabbling. Then Alex left after ringing such a peal over Charlie, I still hear it in my sleep sometimes. Irresponsible, he called him. Not worthy to bear the title of Penholme. If the girls ended up on the street and the boys in Newgate, it was on Charlie’s head. His rant seemed to have some good effect, for a while. Charlie talked about trying to bring himself around, but as you can see, nothing came of it. He fell in with the racing set and squandered whatever more he could get his hands on. You were well out of it, I
“He never had the chance, had he? He’s a Penholme, you know. There’s a streak of the peacock in us all, no denying. He’d have decked himself out if he’d ever had two pennies to rub together. He always had to wear Charlie’s reach-me-downs. He said, when I asked why he didn’t grab himself a new pair of boots from Charlie’s lot, that he’d felt the pinch of Charlie’s boots for the last time. Said it in a bitter way, though he tried to hide his feelings.”
“Your mother was always fond of Alex. Could she not have done something for him?”
“She did the best thing, as it turns out. Set aside what monies she could keep her hands on and left it to Alex when she died. It was all that allowed him to buy his commission and outfit himself for the army. Charlie wouldn’t give him a penny, after Alex running Penholme for him for eighteen months. Lord, what a time it was. A fight every time Charlie deigned to come home. He’d rip up at Alex for the dwindling income, and Alex would shout at him that he needed more money to do this and that about the place. But in the end, Charlie could always turn Alex up sweet. Tell him he couldn’t get on without him. He’d give him the money next quarter or next year or what have you. Charlie had a lot of charm. Maybe too much, but in the end, Alex finally saw through him.”
“He left because of Charlie’s selling the Leicester place, you mentioned.”
“The groundwork was set before that. Alex was driven to his wits’ end. He said there was no point his trying to hold things together if Charlie was determined to put us all in the poorhouse. He didn’t even have the decency to tell Alex he’d sold the Leicester place. Alex learned it from his agent and thought at last that he was going to get money to handle matters here, but it turned out it was only to pay gambling debts. He saw he’d have to make his own way in the world, for it was clear as a peddler’s pikestaff by then that Charlie had no intention of turning Sawburne over to him. Alex even felt that the Hall might be lost in the long run, and—oh, you had to be there, Annie. I think Alex felt he had to build up something to look after the family, a career for himself, in case the worst happened. Mind you, he didn’t tell me that in so many words, but he was really the one we looked to as a father. He didn’t actually say so. He didn’t say much, really. Well, he couldn’t. He was demmed near bawling when he said good-bye to me, if you want the truth. You know how his jaw and throat muscles kind of clutch into a knot when he’s beyond words.”
Anne listened reluctantly, not wanting to believe, but Robin’s forthright story had to be true. Every fact substantiated it. Her wonderful hero, her beloved, shining Charles, was a miserable, selfish fool. How could she have been so unseeing? How had she admired Charles and his “charm,” which was just another word for not caring, for selfishness? Worse, how had she never appreciated that quiet Alex was the real man of the family, the master—in all but authority. How different things would have been had he been born the elder son. But he was the eldest son now. It wasn’t too late.
“We aren’t usually excluded from family gossip at Rosedale. How does it come no one told us about this?”
“Folks like to hide their troubles, I suppose. Rosedale was like an oasis, Annie. It was nice to go there and just get away from the squabbling. Then Alex left after ringing such a peal over Charlie, I still hear it in my sleep sometimes. Irresponsible, he called him. Not worthy to bear the title of Penholme. If the girls ended up on the street and the boys in Newgate, it was on Charlie’s head. His rant seemed to have some good effect, for a while. Charlie talked about trying to bring himself around, but as you can see, nothing came of it. He fell in with the racing set and squandered whatever more he could get his hands on. You were well out of it, I
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