prove a villain, and hate the idle pleasures of these days’?” he quoted lightly.
Matthew’s face blossomed with a genuine smile. “Yes! You see, I knew you’d understand.” Still holding the cue as if it gave him comfort, he flung himself into one of the chairs by the wall. “It’s all so wretched at home. Frederick despises me; Millie is nervous of me. Even Lucy won’t take me seriously.”
“Perhaps she doesn’t realize that’s what you want?” Philip perched upon the chair next to his cousin and regarded him intently. “You do rather give the impression that all you want is to shock, perhaps to entertain. But to be taken seriously? I think, for that to happen, you may have to be a little more serious.”
“Doesn’t sound like much fun,” Matthew muttered.
“Well, a lot of life isn’t fun,” Philip countered. “I’m afraid you have to make a choice, Matthew. You don’t have to conform to the way society expects you to behave, but if you don’t, you can hardly complain at the way you’re treated. You simply need to decide what is more important to you: the freedom to shock, to behave as you wish, or the other freedoms that come with acting in a more responsible manner.”
“And you chose responsibility? Respectability?” Matthew’s mouth twitched up slyly at the corner. “Apart from the occasional… aberration.”
“Actually, I rather think it chose me. You know, Frederick compared you to a friend I used to have, when I was younger. He died a few years after we left Oxford.” Philip found himself smiling at the memory of Robert, although the recollection was still a bittersweet thing, a taste of gall wrapped in sugar.
“He was like me?” Matthew asked eagerly.
“He could be. But he also had a distinguished military career. He knew how to adapt, to change his behavior for different environments. I… I was never very good at that, but then neither was I so, well, like you.” Philip paused. “You may think that’s not for you—you may hate the very idea of it—but then you’ll have to put up with the way society treats you for it, I’m afraid.”
Matthew nodded. “Like Lucy. People laugh at her behind her back, you know. They call her a frump, and a dreadful old maid. Not I,” he added hastily.
Philip supposed his feelings must have shown upon his face. “No, of course not. But yes, it’s that sort of thing. People laugh at our kind too.” It was as close as he could come to admitting their shared nature.
“People can go hang,” Matthew declared impetuously. Then he gave a rueful smile. “But I’ll think about what you’ve said. It is good to talk to someone who understands.”
“And I’ll see what I can do for you with Frederick. Although I can’t make any promises.”
The door opened, and Philip and Matthew turned their heads as one to see Frederick himself peering into the room. He cleared his throat. “Ah, I didn’t realize…. Well. Excellent. Carry on.”
As the door closed behind his retreating figure, Matthew turned to Philip and burst out laughing. After a moment, Philip joined in too.
Chapter 7
O VER the next few days, Philip saw little of Danny. Christmas was fast approaching, and there seemed to be a hundred and one matters that claimed his attention. For one thing, there was the fitting-up of the manor for the season. Philip had never cared for much in the way of seasonal decoration, having always associated the time of year with Robert’s death, but his feelings for the festival had changed over the last few years. It had, after all, brought him Danny. They’d always kept Christmas quietly, much as Philip had in his lonely years, although with vastly more cheer. This year, though, Philip felt it behooved him as host to make something of an effort.
And then there were his guests themselves. Frederick might spend half the morning methodically reading through the Times from cover to cover, but his wife was less selfsufficient. Nor were Lucy
Matthew’s face blossomed with a genuine smile. “Yes! You see, I knew you’d understand.” Still holding the cue as if it gave him comfort, he flung himself into one of the chairs by the wall. “It’s all so wretched at home. Frederick despises me; Millie is nervous of me. Even Lucy won’t take me seriously.”
“Perhaps she doesn’t realize that’s what you want?” Philip perched upon the chair next to his cousin and regarded him intently. “You do rather give the impression that all you want is to shock, perhaps to entertain. But to be taken seriously? I think, for that to happen, you may have to be a little more serious.”
“Doesn’t sound like much fun,” Matthew muttered.
“Well, a lot of life isn’t fun,” Philip countered. “I’m afraid you have to make a choice, Matthew. You don’t have to conform to the way society expects you to behave, but if you don’t, you can hardly complain at the way you’re treated. You simply need to decide what is more important to you: the freedom to shock, to behave as you wish, or the other freedoms that come with acting in a more responsible manner.”
“And you chose responsibility? Respectability?” Matthew’s mouth twitched up slyly at the corner. “Apart from the occasional… aberration.”
“Actually, I rather think it chose me. You know, Frederick compared you to a friend I used to have, when I was younger. He died a few years after we left Oxford.” Philip found himself smiling at the memory of Robert, although the recollection was still a bittersweet thing, a taste of gall wrapped in sugar.
“He was like me?” Matthew asked eagerly.
“He could be. But he also had a distinguished military career. He knew how to adapt, to change his behavior for different environments. I… I was never very good at that, but then neither was I so, well, like you.” Philip paused. “You may think that’s not for you—you may hate the very idea of it—but then you’ll have to put up with the way society treats you for it, I’m afraid.”
Matthew nodded. “Like Lucy. People laugh at her behind her back, you know. They call her a frump, and a dreadful old maid. Not I,” he added hastily.
Philip supposed his feelings must have shown upon his face. “No, of course not. But yes, it’s that sort of thing. People laugh at our kind too.” It was as close as he could come to admitting their shared nature.
“People can go hang,” Matthew declared impetuously. Then he gave a rueful smile. “But I’ll think about what you’ve said. It is good to talk to someone who understands.”
“And I’ll see what I can do for you with Frederick. Although I can’t make any promises.”
The door opened, and Philip and Matthew turned their heads as one to see Frederick himself peering into the room. He cleared his throat. “Ah, I didn’t realize…. Well. Excellent. Carry on.”
As the door closed behind his retreating figure, Matthew turned to Philip and burst out laughing. After a moment, Philip joined in too.
Chapter 7
O VER the next few days, Philip saw little of Danny. Christmas was fast approaching, and there seemed to be a hundred and one matters that claimed his attention. For one thing, there was the fitting-up of the manor for the season. Philip had never cared for much in the way of seasonal decoration, having always associated the time of year with Robert’s death, but his feelings for the festival had changed over the last few years. It had, after all, brought him Danny. They’d always kept Christmas quietly, much as Philip had in his lonely years, although with vastly more cheer. This year, though, Philip felt it behooved him as host to make something of an effort.
And then there were his guests themselves. Frederick might spend half the morning methodically reading through the Times from cover to cover, but his wife was less selfsufficient. Nor were Lucy
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