Page 109 of Threads that Remain

Henry looked at him with admiration. “You have clearly given this a great deal of thought.”

“I have. I intend to write a pamphlet one day.”

“On what subject?” Sarah demanded.

“The proper management of courtship, with particular reference to sisters who are inclined to lose their judgment.”

Sarah stopped walking. “Father, I should like Ned to remain home next time.”

“Now, Sarah,” Ned protested, “you cannot expect Father to chaperone you alone. What if he becomes distracted?”

“Distracted by what?” Edward asked.

“A horse. A friend. A particularly fine hat. You know how you are.”

Edward looked down at his son. “I have never in my life abandoned a duty because I saw a fine hat.”

“You did last Tuesday.”

“You did say it was a very fine hat,” Henry remarked, holding back a laugh.

Edward gave him a look.

Sarah laughed before she could stop herself. Henry turned towards her at once, delighted by the sound, and for one blessed moment she forgot Ned entirely.

It was Sarah, eventually, who put an end to the surveillance, turning round quite suddenly after they had gone the length of the walk and back again, and fixing her brother with a look that had put a stop to a good deal of his mischief over the years and generally succeeded again now.

“Ned. I can hear you breathing down my neck. Go and walk with Papa, and talk to him about something, and let Henry and me have our conversation without an audience of one very determined fifteen-year-old counting the inches between us.”

Ned, with immense dignity, fell back, at last, to walk beside his father.

“Would you care for a turn along the water, Sarah?” Henry asked.

“I should be delighted.”

“Excellent,” Ned announced. “I shall accompany you.”

“No,” Sarah said. “You shall remain with Papa.”

Edward, who had been examining a gentleman’s horse, turned at the sound of his name.

“What is it?”

“Sarah wishes me to remain with you.”

“Very well, then.”

“But she and Henry are going towards the water, and they will be alone!”

“We are in Hyde Park, surrounded by half of London. Ned,” Edward said, in a voice that had plainly been practised upon unruly horses, “your sister is a young lady of good sense, and as you know very well, Henry is a gentleman of good character, and I am perfectly capable of seeing them from here. You will remain with me.”

Ned’s mouth opened, then closed.

The couple stayed by the water for close to half an hour before returning to the path.

Ned took the opportunity to insert himself between them again.

“Henry, I must ask you something of the utmost importance.”