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charm,” said Meriden grimly, “and he’s a foppish wastrel besides. I’ll have you know that, not content with being sent down for his debts, he stopped in Cambridge long enough to run up a staggering account with his tailor, which he has just been informing me was necessary because he wishes first to cut a dash in Brighton before moving on to hire a neat little hunting box in Rutlandshire for the entire winter.”
    “But surely that is what Laurence would have done himself and what he would expect his son to do,” said Emily, adding conscientiously, “Not that he would have expected Oliver to be sent down from school.”
    “Now, there you’re out,” Meriden said sardonically. “It is precisely what he would have expected, though he would no doubt have insisted that Oliver return to Cambridge rather than chance having to look after the lad himself. Nonetheless, the estate will not tolerate such heavy claims upon its resources. ’Tis bad enough that Sabrina declares she cannot stand the odor of burning tallow and insists upon burning wax candles in every room of the house. There is little I can do about that, but I will not frank Oliver’s excesses. He will remain here until Michaelmas term, when he will return to Cambridge.”
    “But Staithes has always—”
    “The income has declined steadily over the past years,” he interrupted sharply. “Laurence cared only for his pleasures, nothing for his land, and one cannot consistently take from the land, Miss Wingrave, without giving something back. Certainly not when there is a war on. There have been tremendous demands made upon the estate, and it will take a great deal of effort if it is ever to be restored to its former level of productivity, and so I have told Oliver. I might add that he took the news as a personal affront.”
    “I daresay you were not tactful,” Emily said vaguely, her mind rapidly processing this new information. She was well aware that Meriden would not have told her so much if she had not caused him to lose his temper. When she looked at him to discover that he was glaring at her again, her own last words echoed through her mind. She said firmly, “You are never tactful, so do not look at me as though I have insulted you. You may have some excuse for your handling of Oliver if he has behaved as you say he has, but there can be no excuse for bullying Dolly or for frightening Giles and poor little Melanie.”
    Meriden snorted. “Your niece Dolly is a pretty pea-goose with a head full of romantic nonsense and an amazing lack of consideration for anyone but herself. Young Giles is a scamp whose school reports teem with such phrases as ‘lacks application,’ ‘will not try,’ ‘inattentive to studies,’ and ‘insolent to his masters.’ Need I continue?”
    “No, but I am certain he is not the first child in his family to receive such reports. Indeed, I daresay you received your share of them if the truth were known.”
    “I did, and Giles ought to be grateful that my forebearance is greater than my noble sire’s was. Since my father didn’t see humor in misbehavior at school, I quickly came to see the error of my ways. Giles will do likewise.”
    “Not if he goes to Somerset, he won’t,” Emily said, “or did you not know that he intends to spend his long vacation there?”
    “I knew. He extended his insolence to the point of addressing a letter to me, informing me of that fact. I have already dispatched a carriage and a good stout servant of mine to collect him. I also took the precaution of writing to his headmaster and to the father of the boy he meant to visit. Master Giles will come home, and when he does, he will be placed, as promised, in the hands of a good strict tutor, hopefully one who will make him smart. I have already set inquiries in train to find just such a suitable young man.”
    “You might at least have asked Sabrina for her opinion of that course of action,” Emily said tartly.
    “Why should I?”