"You're eldest, Sewallis," Sir Hugo gently told him. "It's the way it is. Ancient right o' primogeniture, ye see. The way things are done in English families."
"I didn't ask to be first, it's…," Sewallis protested; as much protest as he'd raise in such a distinguished supper crowd, and as much as his usual reticence allowed.
"First-born sons always inherit everything, Sewallis. The others have to make their own way," Lewrie explained. "It's your place to be the elder to Hugh and Charlotte… provide for them through good management of my estate, which goes to you if I fall."
"If Uncle Phineas takes our house and farm, we won't have an estate, would we?" Sewallis cleverly, though pettishly, pointed out.
"My investments in the Funds, my savings, and your grandfather's place, eventually, is my estate. Our estate, rather," Lewrie told him, wondering what had gotten into him. "T'do that means ye have need of more education, and business sense, so ye don't go squanderin' it all, or make foolish decisions. Don't mean ye can't have a career of your own besides those duties… "
"As much a duty t'yer family as Hugh's duty to his service and his ship," Sir Hugo stuck in before waving for a top-up of claret.
"Finish at your school… perhaps a year or so at university," Lewrie went on. Sir Hugo rolled his eyes heavenward to show what he thought of that, and Lewrie took a moment to shrug agreement with him. "Or ye might wish t'speak with our solicitor, Mister Mountjoy, about learnin' more about the law. Learn the cautions. After terms, there is my barrister, Mac-Doug all, who might advise ye about entering one o' the Inns of Court. Once you're of an age t'live in London on your own, mind, not before."
"Ever given thought what ye might wish t'be, lad? What career… a civilian career, that is… ye wanted t'take up?" Sir Hugo asked him.
"Well… I once thought of becoming a churchman, like our vicar at Saint George's," Sewallis hesitantly stated, "going up to Oxford or Cambridge, then taking Holy Orders, but… " He shrugged to silence.
That idea made Sir Hugo sit up like someone had goosed him, and blare his eyes. Lewrie was forced to squint, and fight the grimace that threatened to bloom on his phyz. Sir Hugo coughed.
"Well, and that's an honourable profession, I'm bound," Lewrie was quick to say, though shifting uneasily on his chair. "And there's many a churchman the eldest of his family, with his own income, beyond the manse, the glebe, and his share of the tithes," he pointed out.
"But, since Mother was murdered, I only want to fight and kill Frenchmen," Sewallis said with unaccustomed firmness. "I don't think I could ever take Holy Orders with that in my heart. If not the Navy, could I not go into the Army, grandfather? You once offered your influence at Horse Guards to help Hugh obtain a commission."
"Know why they call downwind a 'soldier's wind,' Sewallis? Because any fool can do it!" Hugh took that moment to interject, laughing at his own jape.
"Don't taunt your brother, young man!" Lewrie snapped. "It's not the best time-you're going, and all of us not knowing when we'll clap eyes on each other again." Hugh, though, was irrepressible, only pretending to be subdued. Turning back to Sewallis, Lewrie said, "First-born sons' lives are never intentionally placed in jeopardy, me lad. Like yer grandfather just said, your familial duty is to grow up to be the heir, and carry on the family name and properties."
"Younger sons in the Army," Sir Hugo added, "if there's a title or estate and their eldest brother passes, ye know what they must do? Resign, sell off their commissions, and go back to civilian life t'take his place, take on the late elder brother's duties to his family. Get the title, the lands and rents, and do right by his younger brothers and sisters. Seen enough of it in my time," the old rascal grumbled. "Take their seat in Lord's, or stand for Commons."
"Like Harry Embleton?" Sewallis asked. "But he's in the Army, and he's Sir Romney's eldest. If the King called out the Yeomanry and the militia, he'd get to fight the French!"
"Only if they invade us, Sewallis," Sir Hugo said with a smirk of disapproval for that fool Harry, and the dubious worth of militia or the Yeomanry. "They'll never be called t'go overseas to fight the French, where the French are. Harry's just playin' at soldierin'!"
"Well then, couldn't I join Harry's regiment? At least I could get some military experience!" Sewallis cajoled. "When school term is over?"
Lewrie wryly shook his head. It would be too embarrassing, and take much too long, to explain to Sewallis the enmity that Harry still held for anyone named Lewrie, and why, and how slim his odds were of a commission under Harry Embleton if Harry ran the selection-and just how badly Sewallis would be treated if he did get such a commission!
"Better ye enjoy what's left o' your youth at Dun Roman, with your grandfather, son," Lewrie gently told him. "Coach to London with him and stay a week or so, now and again."
"Stay with your sister, and yer Uncle Governour and Aunt Millicent, too," Sir Hugo was very quick to add, looking as if he'd bitten into a lemon at the suggestion that he give up his pleasurable activities to play "daddy" to the lad, not the avuncular, now-and-again "grandfather"! "Do a summer term at school?" he hastily suggested.
"I know it's the way it's done, but… it still seems so unfair!" Sewallis mournfully said in a chin-down sulk.
Him stay with Governour and Millicent? Lewrie thought in dread; Good God, they'll turn him against me, too? Maybe he should go into one o' the services 'fore I lose all my children!
"Uhm… school, father," Sewallis hesitantly said, looking up. "Headmaster said to tell you that the tuition, uhm… "
"Thought I'd paid it," Lewrie replied after a bite of juicy roast beef and a sip of wine. "Ye took my note-of-hand with you when ye returned for Easter Term."
"Not that one," Sewallis told him. "There's the extras for equitation, the swordmaster, the dancing instructor, and all. And there is a summer term. Not too many students attend, and not all of the faculty are there, but… I suppose I could attend, and take only a few courses. That way, I could have long weekends to visit grandfather in London now and then, and there's an interval, round Mid-Summer Day, long enough to go home to Anglesgreen and see Charlotte and the family."
"Perhaps that might be best… this summer, at least," Sir Hugo said after a long, head-cocked thought. "Know how much it'd be? D'ye have a list of the extra fees? I'll foot it. My treat, hey?"
"Thank you, grandfather," Sewallis said to him with warmth. "If I must become half an… an orphan, then I suppose I must be about it as best I can, and gain more education… as you say, father… for fulfilling my lot in life."
Could I feel any lower? Lewrie wondered; any guiltier?
They retired fairly early, since Hugh had to rise so early the next morning; Hugh and Sewallis to one bed, and Sir Hugo and Lewrie to another. And the old bastard snored and made strangling noises like a wheezing ox about to expire! Sending Hugh off to his own uncertain entry into a hard, cruel adult life, abandoning Sewallis to his mournful and shy loneliness, to be batted like a tennis ball between school, his begrudging grandfather, and his bitter kinfolk, was enough to keep Lewrie awake and tossing long into the night, even without his father's snores and the occasional fart. To recall his parting with Charlotte was even worse!