After a run of 5* Heyers, this one lost a star for a rash of silliness. Too many of her books depend for their climactic disaster on characters behaving in positively bird-witted ways, without an ounce of common sense, and so it is here. Fortunately, the hero and heroine rise above the foolishness, there’s a lovely slow-build romance going on, too, and the humour is as well-developed as always.
Here’s the premise: the Merriville family descends on London so that beautiful Charis can make her come-out. To ensure this, older sister Frederica calls upon a distant relation, the Marquis of Alverstoke, to help launch Charis into society. Alverstoke is a bored, over-indulged and selfish rake-about-town who is unaccustomed to lifting a finger, even for much closer relations, but the chance to infuriate his own sisters spurs him to agree to hold a ball for Charis, and his sisters’ daughters.
So far, so meh. Alverstoke is, at this point, an unappealing character, entirely self-centred, and Frederica isn’t much better, being an overly managing and verbose spinster, completely caught up in the affairs of her family to the exclusion of any other consideration. But luckily Frederica has three brothers, and the younger two, sixteen-year-old Jessamy and twelve-year-old Felix, are the glorious, and very funny, heart of the book. Felix is obsessed with mechanical devices of all kinds and is charming enough to succeed in dragging a very reluctant Alverstoke on a trip to examine a foundry, amongst other delights. Jessamy is trying to study to be a worthy clergyman, in time, but would really rather be out on horseback. And both of them have a great propensity to get into deep trouble, whereupon they promptly turn to Alverstoke for help.
And so, by very gradual degrees, Alverstoke learns to care for someone other than himself, and Frederica learns to depend on someone other than herself, and by even more gradual degrees they fall in love. We see this more clearly in Alverstoke, and I loved the careful way he protected Frederica from gossip by not paying her too much attention, and being very casual when he’s with her, so that she isn’t seen as merely the latest flirt of a confirmed rake. With the downside, of course, that she never quite realises his intentions and he never quite finds himself in a position to raise the issue.
This aspect of the book is faultless, but of course it wouldn’t be a Heyer without at least one silly ingenue. Here, it’s Charis who fulfils the role, aided and abetted by the handsome but equally empty-headed Endymion, Alverstoke’s heir. They manage to create the usual end-of-book crisis, which is fortunately resolved rather quickly here. An honourable mention at this point to Alverstoke’s secretary, Mr Charles Trevor, who creatively solves every dilemma, and a dishonourable mention for Lufra, the Baluchistan hound, who sadly turned out to be a mere plot device, for he was barely mentioned after his magnificent performance in Green Park. A good four stars.
This is a book I have reread many times and every time find delightful. It was so plainly written by a woman who loved boys and dogs in all their chaotic, grubby glory. Alverstoke’s cold-hearted selfishness and boredom are repellant, no doubt. Try as he might, though, he cannot resist the magnetic pull of the two Merriville boys and their many enthusiasms and scrapes. They are reveling in the kind of unfettered boyhood Alverstoke never had—and which Frederica is affectionate and intelligent enough to allow them. Alverstoke comes to revel in being the engaged father his own father never was. At last, he enters into life with heart and humor rather than just manipulating or observing at an emotional distance.
I always finish this book with the feeling that the puzzle pieces have finally fallen into place. Alverstoke learns how to love, how to be a husband and father, by taking charge of the boys, even so far as visiting a foundry and nursing a sick and delirious Felix. His desire to lift the burden from Frederica’s shoulders is a husband’s compassion, though he denies it when he proposes to her. Frederica learns how to love by trusting Alverstoke, depending on his help and even acceding to his judgment that Charis does not want the brilliant match that her sister planned for her. Of course, this is what a good comic romance does. It ends with two couples in love and well-matched (the witty and the witless). What I love best, though, is the gradual softening of both Frederica and Alverstoke’s characters, rendering them able to love.
5 stars because it pleased my mother’s heart (We had our own version of Felix and the Baluchistan hound).