Summerset Abbey

by Brown, T. J.

  Blinking back the tears, she looked away. The last thing she wanted was for Kit to find her crying in front of an old scrapbook. Keeping her eyes resolutely away from her parents, she turned instead to Nanny Iris, who had her hands on the shoulders of a young girl who looked to be about three. Victoria’s breath caught. Halpernia. The little girl whose passing the year Rowena was born crippled her father and forever changed her family. She had the Buxton hair, and no doubt her eyes were a sparkling green under the thick fringe of curls on her forehead. It was odd to think that Rowena, Elaine, Colin, and she would have an aunt only a few years older than themselves, had she lived.

  Moving closer to the picture, she frowned. Who was Halpernia clinging to? It wasn’t her mother, nor Nanny Iris, but a young woman who looked tantalizingly familiar. The answer came to her so swiftly, it caused a pain between her eyes. Prudence’s mother! Her fingers ran down the right side of the book until she found a name that had been crossed out in such a way that the letters were completely illegible, but Victoria didn’t need them. Prudence had several pictures of her mother displayed around the house in London, and Miss Tate had been an important part of Victoria’s life. This was definitely Alice Tate.

  She turned back to the photo. Alice wore a maid’s uniform, but there was no doubt about the little girl’s feelings for her. Why was this maid allowed to hold the hand of the proverbial princess of the house? Why was she standing so close to the family instead of back near the line of maids?

  Victoria looked at the door, wondering where Kit was. Perhaps he had been detained? She needed to get back before she was missed, but before she left, she checked the other two books. After flipping through pages of christenings and births, she found the yearly staff and family picture and it was exactly what she suspected. Though there was a short, three-sentence entry concerning Halpernia’s death, Alice Tate no longer appeared in the annual photograph.

  She was putting the books away when a newspaper clipping fluttered out of the back of one of the books. Her heart raced as she realized what it was . . . an article on Halpernia’s death. She looked in the back of both books, but it was the only one. She carefully folded the clipping again and stuck it down inside the top of her corset.

  If Halpernia and Prudence’s mother were somehow related, then Victoria was going to find out how. Prudence deserved some answers.

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  “This would go a great deal faster if you would sit still,” Prudence said the next afternoon. She kept the hairpins clenched between her teeth, which was a good thing because she was sorely tempted to stick one into Rowena’s scalp. Rowena fidgeted, wiggled, and otherwise squirmed in her chair like a naughty child. Prudence had already helped her into a dark maroon lace gown with the black silk insets. Though the other women would be decked in their most brilliant dresses, the Buxton girls continued to honor their father by wearing only dark colors. Of course, everything looked lovely against Rowena’s porcelain complexion and dark hair. Prudence tugged on a rebellious curl just enough to cause a sharp tinge of pain and Rowena glared at her in the mirror. “I just can’t believe I have to change again. What would happen if I wore my tea gown to tea and to dinner? Would the meal be ruined? And how many parties do we have to have, anyway? It seems to take an infernal number of parties to celebrate one holiday.”

  “Someone’s in a bad mood and pray remember, it wasn’t my idea to come here.” Prudence punctuated her words by jabbing a pin into the coiffure she was constructing.

  Rowena lowered her eyes. “You would make a horrible lady’s maid, Pru, you know that?”

  Prudence snorted. Again, this wasn’t her idea, but she didn’t say it aloud. There were so many things she didn’t say aloud to Rowena any longer. Prudence had vacillated for weeks between being furious with her friend and concerned for her, but now she was just furious. And resentful.

  “Oh, would you two stop it?”

  Victoria, whose hair was already finished, sat on the edge of Rowena’s bed, careful not to wrinkle her black silk gown with its customary Poiret Oriental lines. Black didn’t become Victoria the way it did Rowena. It made her pale skin almost translucent, and her eyes even larger in her thin face. Even with carmine-colored lip rouge on her lips, Victoria still looked like a child playing dress-up.

  Prudence looked at her and frowned. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked bluntly. She was tired of playing the lady’s maid while her friends got to dress up in fine clothes and eat delicacies that the entire kitchen had slaved over for the past week. Tonight was the first night she would get to dress nicely and here she was, making sure they were ready first. She wanted someone to fuss over her for a change.

  “Nothing’s wrong with me,” Victoria snapped. “I’m just tired of listening to the two of you argue all the time. You sound like fishwives. I understand this situation is intolerable, but we need to make the best of it until Easter, when we can all go home. Right, Ro?”

  Rowena paused a moment too long before saying, “Right.”

  “You’re all done.” Prudence dropped the combs and brushes carelessly on the dressing table. “Now I need to go get ready.”

  Victoria stood up. “Not so fast. How can you get ready without your dress?”

  Prudence frowned, not quite understanding. “My dress?”

  Rowena gave her a tentative smile and turned toward Victoria, who had sprung off the bed and scurried to the closet. “Victoria has a surprise for you.”

  “It’s your turn to get ready. You have a dance tonight, too, you know.” Victoria’s voice, which just a few moments before had been petulant, now held a note of anticipation. She came back out of the closet holding a ball gown of a deep emerald-green silk. The lines of the dress were clearly Oriental inspired, with short kimono-style sleeves ending in gold tassels.

  Prudence gasped. “Where did you get that? I would have remembered had we packed it.”

  Rowena smiled; it was a sad smile, but at least it was a smile. “I had it made up a couple of years ago in Paris but it was sent here by mistake.” Rowena slid her fingers down the silk luxuriously. “I’ve never had a chance to wear it.”

  Prudence bit her lip. Would it be right to wear it with Sir Philip so recently . . .

  “Don’t even think of Papa!” Victoria said, so fiercely that Prudence jumped. “Papa would want you to be happy and look nice and go dancing. So stop it.”

  Rowena nodded, tears caught in her green eyes. “It’s true, Prudence. Just wear the dress and be happy for a bit. Lord knows you deserve it.”

  Rowena’s voice sounded weary and Prudence finally nodded.

  Victoria clapped her hands and soon had Prudence standing at attention while she dressed her from head to toe.

  Prudence could hardly believe it when she looked in the mirror. The green of the dress deepened the green of her own eyes, and the tight waist made her as slender as a reed. The girls had piled her hair into a mass of curls on top of her head and secured it with a peacock-green silk scarf tied like a tiara around her head. The ends of the scarf trailed down her back, which the cut of her dress left daringly bare to just under her shoulder blades. “What is the servants’ ball like, do you know?” Prudence finally asked.

  “I can tell you,” Elaine said from the doorway. “I was wondering what was taking you both so long, now I know!”

  The girls fell silent as they put finishing touches on Prudence’s hair.

  “Oh, please don’t let me ruin your fun. Prudence looks positively beautiful.” Elaine, stunning herself in plush pink lace, circled Prudence, her eyes wide with surprise.

  “Thank you, miss,” Prudence said rather stiffly.

  “I’m serious! You’re almost as pretty as Ro. You know what would be a deevie idea? If we snuck her into our ball with the rest of us, right under Mother’s nose. She’d never be able to tell.” Elaine held up her hand as the protests rained down on her. “Fine, I won’t, but it would be funny, you have to admit. The servants
’ balls are usually great fun. They start out formal, with Father dancing with Mrs. Harper, and Mother dancing with Cairns, and then the rest of us join in if we choose to. Most of the houseguests dance once or twice before retiring to the drawing room to wait for our supper. They do this to show how modern they are.” Elaine snorted, then shrugged. “I don’t know what happens after that, because we go to dinner to be served by the town servants and then the servants’ ball ends about the time ours begins.”

  Victoria nodded. “I hear the Welbecks’ servants’ ball is so grand they have to hire fifty waiters from London just to fill in.”

  Elaine nodded. “That’s why Mother has hers on the same day we have a ball for our guests. The orchestra will play for the servants in the Great Hall and then move to the ballroom for us.” She shook her head, still looking at Prudence. Prudence was beginning to feel less like a young woman than a goose in a butcher’s window. “I still can’t get over how posh you look. I know I sound the snob, but you look more like Rowena’s sister than Victoria does, really.”

  Prudence watched Victoria startle at this and then grow quiet, but Rowena laughed, a sad little laugh that made Prudence hurt. “We’ve heard that more than once. Father said it was because we spent so much time together.”

  “Are we ready? Is it time?” Victoria asked suddenly.

  Impulsively, Prudence held out her arms to both Rowena and Victoria. She desperately wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. Victoria came to her, her blue eyes shining, but Rowena hesitated and her eyes avoided Prudence’s. It was Elaine, unaware of the undercurrents in the room, who gaily linked arms with Prudence.

  Rowena made a motion with her arm to the door and the girls left the room.

  They were almost down the staircase when Rowena put her hand to her throat. “My locket. I forgot the locket Father gave me.” She looked behind her at the girls, who still had their arms linked.

  Irritated, Prudence pulled her arms from the other girls and took a step back. “You go on down, I’ll just grab it and meet you there.”

  “Oh, I can get it,” Rowena protested. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t be silly. I put it away last. I know right where it is.” She hurried back to Rowena’s room, feeling very much the maid, no matter how luxurious her gown.

  After snatching up the locket, she headed downstairs, thoughtful.

  “I was hoping I’d run into you.”

  Prudence startled as Lord Billingsly’s deep voice sounded from behind her. The dark dinner jacket he wore sat in tailored perfection across his shoulders. His hair had been slicked back, but several unruly curls had sprung forward onto his forehead. His dark eyes smiled at her and then widened as they gave a surprised sweeping look over her dress and hair.

  She felt her skin heat and she couldn’t help but smile back at him.

  “And why would that be, Lord Billingsly? You wish me to fetch you something, perhaps?” She kept her tone pert, trying not to show how his presence affected her pulse, now skittering in her throat.

  His eyes flickered for a surprised moment, before a smile curved his mouth. “No. I have my own valet for that, as you well know. Why are you being difficult? Perhaps I was looking forward to chatting with you.”

  “Rule number one,” Prudence answered.

  His brows raised. “Pardon?”

  “Rule number one is the reason I’m being difficult. Instead of being welcomed as a dear family friend or even as a respected stranger, I was handed a list of rules and shown to my room in the servants’ quarters. Rule number one is never let your voice be heard by the ladies and gentlemen of the house. And rule number two: Answer politely when spoken to.”

  The moment the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them. He was being light and teasing as the occasion warranted—after all, it was a festive dance during which the classes mingled in an extraordinary way—and instead of taking advantage of it, she was being as prickly as a hedgehog.

  For a moment it looked as if he wasn’t going to speak, but then he nodded. “While I’m sorry for your treatment, I must say, I rather like that rule,” he said.

  Her head went back in surprise. “Excuse me?”

  His lips twitched. “Rule number two, answer politely when spoken to, indicates a polite conversation, which is exactly what I had in mind. Are you looking forward to tonight’s festivities, Miss Tate?”

  He was giving her a way out of her surliness, and gratefully, she took it. “Indeed, I am, Lord Billingsly. Even the servants should have a good time now and then.” There, she’d done it again. Her situation and position rankled and there was just no way to get around it.

  He held out his arm for her to take. “I can see that polite conversation is going to be difficult this evening. Perhaps we would be better off just dancing.”

  Prudence drew in a deep breath and took his arm. “I would like that very much, Lord Billingsly.”

  His eyes, dark as coal, twinkled down at her and she tried to match his gaze, if only to show that he hadn’t rattled her at all, even though his presence both thrilled and dismayed her.

  His eyes softened. “If we were to speak, instead of just dance, my number one concern is to find out how you’re getting along, really. Are you being mistreated?”

  She turned from him and began walking down the stairs, forcing him along with her. “And if I were, Lord Billingsly? Exactly what would you do about it? Call out Lord Summerset? Circumstances and birth have brought me to this situation, and I am dealing with it the best I can. I will stay with Rowena and Victoria until Easter, and then after that . . .” She faltered. Her mind blanked as they reached the last step of the staircase.

  “And then after that? What are you going to do after that, Prudence?” His voice was low under the sound of merrymaking and she could hear a note of disquiet.

  His use of her first name further confused her. They stared at each other, the moment spinning out between them for an eternity. She resisted the pull she felt toward him. In Sir Philip’s house she might have been deluded into believing that all would be well. She might have teased him in return. She might have told him about the books she was reading, or her journals. She might have done a million things, but she wasn’t in Sir Philip’s house, she was at Summerset and it was a whole different world. An entire class system stood between them.

  “Rowena! Don’t let my dear boy make you late for the festivities. Whatever would your dear aunt say?”

  Prudence twirled around toward the voice and lost her footing on the stair. Lord Billingsly caught her before she could fall, his arm going around her waist. She felt the heat linger for a moment as she steadied herself.

  “Oh. You’re not Rowena.”

  A small, older woman stood several steps above her, her hand holding a pair of pince-nez glasses to her face. Her elaborately dressed hair framed a pointed, inquisitive face, but the dark eyes that regarded Prudence were sharp and so much like Lord Billingsly’s that she knew immediately who the woman was. Prudence dropped her eyes and studied the richly detailed carpeting between them. “No, my lady.”

  “Then who are you?” The woman’s voice was a bit querulous.

  This was a woman who didn’t like to be taken by surprise. “My name is Prudence Tate, my lady.” Prudence sank into a curtsy.

  She spotted Victoria on the other side of the hall, waving as the orchestra swept into the first tune. She turned back to Lord Billingsly and his mother. “If you will excuse me. Victoria and Rowena are waiting.”

  She gave another curtsy. She knew she was being rude, but she absolutely didn’t want to engage in small talk with Lady Billingsly, who was almost as frightening as Lady Summerset.

  As Prudence made her way through the crowded room, she noticed that she raised a small commotion as she passed. Not among the wellborn, who had no idea who she was, but among the army of servants, most of whom were waiting for the traditional dances between the Lord and Lady and the housekeeper and butler to be fi
nished so they could begin their own fun. They didn’t even bother to whisper as she passed, speaking so that she could hear them: “Look at her putting on airs, acting like she’s one of them.” “Wait till Mrs. Harper sees her. She’ll be out on her cheeky arse, mark my words!”

  Mortified, she looked around and found herself surrounded by the people she worked with every day, dressed in their Sunday best outfits, a pretty collar or a new shirt the only indication that this evening was different than their half days off. Their eyes were filled with rancor, envy, and outright malice. Victoria and Rowena had dressed her up to make her happy, and instead she only felt like a traitor, a fool, and, more than ever, an outsider.

  She reddened, then tilted her chin upward, refusing to be cowed. They were judging her just as the gentry had, and she was jolly well tired of being judged. She focused instead on Vic and Ro’s welcoming faces across the room. But the gauntlet continued with each step.

  “You have to wonder what sort of duties one has to perform to get a dress such as that,” someone said as she passed.

  “I’ve heard she thinks she’s so far above the other servants, she won’t even use the servants’ privy,” one bawdy voice sniggered.

  Prudence’s fists clenched together and she felt the bite of her fingernails as they cut into her own flesh.

  Then Susie, braver than Prudence ever knew she could be, shoved her way through the crowd and gave her a huge hug. “You look so fine! And look at me, thanks to you!”

  She twirled, completely ignoring the people surrounding Prudence. As often happens with bullies who are being ignored, the crowd lost its momentum and dissipated. Prudence almost cried with relief.