by Brown, T. J.
Which was a relief actually. Prudence wasn’t exactly sure what she was might do, but living at Summerset was quickly becoming unbearable, and though part of her still wished that things would go back to the way they were come Easter, she knew in her heart that nothing would ever be the same. It was time for her to stop being such a coward and start making plans for herself. Now that Lady Summerset had made her true feelings known, Prudence knew it was only a matter of time before things came to a head.
Prudence hurried around to the servants’ entrance. She hadn’t told the girls she was leaving again this morning and was anxious to check on Victoria, who had seemed strained when she had last seen her. A large delivery wagon stood in front of the door, but Prudence didn’t think it remarkable. With a house full of guests, the amount of food they ran through each day was staggering.
She nodded to a housemaid in the hallway and bid the cook a cheery good afternoon. It had been two days since the ball and she had been careful to behave in exactly the same manner as she always had. Not that it mattered. They would never accept her into their folds.
“You’d best get upstairs to help your young mistresses,” Hortense’s voice came from behind her.
Hortense had been cool toward Prudence since the servants’ ball, though Prudence wasn’t much surprised after discovering her ladyship’s animosity toward her. She only wondered why it was that Hortense had been kind to her in the first place. “And why is that?” Prudence asked.
“Their belongings arrived from London while you were gadding about town and my lady is fit to be tied. Imagine having the entire contents of a house show up on your doorstep when you have a manor full of guests!”
“It isn’t an entire houseful,” one of the footmen said, coming in the door carrying a trunk. “Just their personal effects and such.”
“Whose personal effects?” Prudence asked, the beginnings of unease prickling down her arms.
“Your mistresses’, of course,” Hortense sniffed. “A good lady’s maid would know these things.”
“I’m not a lady’s maid,” Prudence snapped, unbuttoning her coat. She hurried up the stairs and out into the Great Hall. Most of the guests had already retired to their rooms to rest and bathe before dinner or were playing cards in the drawing room. Prudence didn’t bother with the servants’ stairs, instead going right up the main staircase—the quickest way to Rowena’s room.
“Prudence!” Lord Billingsly called behind her, but she didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. In her heart, she knew the truth, but needed to hear it from Rowena.
The entire room was filled with trunks and a few pieces of furniture. Prudence recognized the pretty dressing table Sir Philip had bought for Rowena on one of his trips to France and a small gleaming rocker that had belonged to Ro and Vic’s mother.
Rowena stood in the middle of her green and gold room, panic playing across her pretty features. Victoria stood across from her, her hands clasped and her fingers twisting tightly. “Just what is going on?” Victoria’s voice was high and thready, a sign that she would lose her breath if she didn’t calm down.
“That’s what I would like to know,” Prudence asked, her voice far calmer than the tumultuous panic on the inside.
Rowena blanched. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want anyone to find out this way.”
Victoria stamped a foot. “Find out what? If you don’t tell me right now . . .”
Automatically, Prudence went over to Vic and laid a calming hand on her shoulder. “You need to breathe, Vic. Close your eyes and take a few small breaths. We’ll find out what is going on but you need to breathe.” She rubbed Vic’s shoulders in small circles until the girl nodded and did as she was told. The moment Victoria’s eyes closed, Prudence’s own gaze swept to Rowena. Their eyes caught and held. Pain glimmered in the depths of Rowena’s eyes. But there was something more, which hurt Prudence more than anything. Shame.
Victoria’s color returned and her eyes flew open. “You let him sell our home. You let him sell it and you didn’t even have the courtesy to tell us.” She put her hand over her mouth and sobbed.
“No. No, I didn’t. Uncle didn’t sell the house, he just let it. It’s still ours. He says we may decide what we want to do with it.”
The words were right, but Prudence noticed that Rowena didn’t come toward them, didn’t move in with a reassuring hug.
“Good. Then let’s move back,” Victoria said. “Let’s not wait. We can unlet it.”
Rowena said nothing. Bitterness welled up inside Prudence and came out in a laugh so hostile; it caused both of the other girls to startle. “No, we can’t. He let it for an extended length of time, didn’t he? Otherwise you would have told us.”
Victoria’s head swiveled back to her sister. “How long has our home been let? How long do we have until we can decide?”
Rowena looked down at the ground as if the answer were written in the new carpeting. “Seven years,” she finally said.
“Seven years?” Victoria shouted. “Seven years?”
Tears, more in anger at her sister’s betrayal than in grief at losing the house, began rolling down Prudence’s face. “When were you going to tell us? How long were you going to let me play at being your maid? Did you enjoy that? Do you realize what I’ve gone through? What I have done because you said everything was going to be just fine?” She stopped and shut her eyes as the room spun around. She took a deep breath and opened them again. “I trusted you.”
“I’m sorry, Pru. I didn’t mean . . .”
But Prudence had had enough. She had given everything and more to show these women her love and gratitude. She considered them family. But this proved that they could never be family. A real sister wouldn’t have done this to her.
Her fists clenched by her side. “Your father would be so ashamed of you.”
She whirled around to see Elaine standing white-faced in the doorway. Behind her, Sebastian’s eyes were full of both shock and compassion. When she swept past them and back down the stairs, no one tried to stop her. She hurried out the front door, not knowing where she was going, only that she had to get out of the house.
Once outside, she ran down the drive until a hitch in her side forced her to stop. There was no way she could run far enough anyway. Then she leaned against one of the old oaks and sobbed.
Everything rose up and attacked her from all sides. Sir Philip’s death, her mother’s betrayal, her own illegitimacy, her treatment at the hands of the staff and the family because of who she was, and worst of all, Rowena’s duplicity, the final blow.
Why hadn’t Rowena just told her that they had no home to go back to? Even if Rowena would have had to tell her that she, Prudence, would have to find a different home or situation. They could have figured it out together, as they did everything, but no, Rowena was too selfish or too weak or too something to tell her the truth, and by lying she’d let Prudence live in an intolerable situation. She’d slept without heat, had lived and worked without dignity, had had tricks played on her by others, and just two nights ago someone had called her a tart. Her cheeks burned at the thought.
Prudence sniffled and dried her face on her sleeve. Her coat was still open and she had lost her hat at some point. She buttoned up her coat and looked back toward Summerset. Darkness was coming on quickly, and Prudence knew she would have to go back. She couldn’t stay out here all night. She had to get her things and make a plan.
“I think you lost this.”
Disoriented, she turned until she located Sebastian walking toward her, carrying her black beret.
She tried to smile but the effort was too much, and in the end she just took the hat and pulled it down over her head.
“Are you all right?” he asked her softly.
She shrugged. “As good as I can be. I’ll be fine.” She tilted her chin up. “I’ll be fine,” she repeated more firmly. “I’m just going to have to find another situation until I decide where I want to go and what I want to do.”
> He cleared his throat. “Will you be going back to the house or would you like me to drive you somewhere?”
She thought briefly of Wesley and her family but put the thought out of her head. No. The relationship was too new. She could stay at the inn, but she had little money with her, and the banks would be closed until after Christmas. No doubt, the inn would be filled for the holiday and she wasn’t sure Summerset even possessed another hotel.
“I’ll have to go back,” she admitted. “At least for now.”
He took her arm and they walked slowly back toward the house. “May I make a suggestion? This would be far more appropriate and seemly coming from my mother, but under the circumstances—I do know of a position that may be just what you are looking for.”
She glanced sideways at him but he was staring straight ahead. “And what would that be?”
“My cousin’s best friend is an invalid. She had a riding accident when she was a girl and as a result is bound to a wheelchair. She also has occasional breathing problems, similar to Victoria’s. She is a bit older than I am and quite lively. I believe you would like her.”
“I’m not a nurse, Sebastian,” she said, then blushed at the use of his first name. It just seemed so natural.
Sensitively, he ignored it and continued. “She has a nurse who attends to her physical needs. She is hoping to engage a companion to travel to Spain and Italy for the rest of the winter. My cousin used to be her companion until she was married last fall. It may be the perfect position for you while you sort something else out.”
He was right. It would be.
“There’s another thing that makes it perfect.” He stopped walking and turned to her. His eyes shone mysteriously in the darkness. “It means you won’t disappear and I will get to see you again.”
Her heart thudded in her chest and for a moment she thought that perhaps he was going to kiss her, but then he turned away and began walking again. It was as if he sensed that she was too fragile for even one more emotional incident. She swallowed. “How soon would you be able to contact them?”
“Cara is staying with my cousin for the holidays. I will send a note directly.”
“Thank you,” she said simply.
He nodded. And they walked in silence toward what was left of Prudence’s old life.
* * *
Victoria sat across from her aunt and uncle in the study, wondering whether they had seated her in this chair on purpose. The graceful Queen Anne chair they had indicated for her to take was just tall enough so that her feet did not reach the floor. It took everything she had not to swing them like a petulant child and put herself at a distinct disadvantage.
Her aunt, still in her flowing lace tea gown, spoke first while her uncle looked on, both benevolent and disapproving. Victoria couldn’t wait to reveal what she knew. She wondered how long it would take for their expressions to change.
“Victoria, we have guests. I find it extremely discourteous of you and your sister to indulge in a screaming match in the hallway. And then to demand a meeting with your uncle and me.” Here Aunt Charlotte shrugged helplessly. “It borders on rude.”
Victoria considered her words. She wished Kit could be with her. He had been the perfect companion to take to Nanny Iris’s yesterday. She’d been close to breaking down when Nanny Iris had told her the truth, but Kit stayed calm and was able to quiet her almost like Prudence used to do. But Victoria knew this was something she had to do alone. Originally, she had planned on telling Rowena and then confronting their aunt and uncle together, but after today she didn’t know whether she would ever be able to trust Ro again.
“I am sorry if our argument embarrassed you, Auntie,” she said. “But you must understand the shock Prudence and I felt to discover that we were not going home at Easter and indeed that we didn’t have a home to go back to. And that is part of why I need to speak to you now.”
Her aunt’s pretty features remained both aggravated and disturbed. “Don’t concern yourself with such things, my dear. You will be staying with us in Belgravia for the season. It’s much larger and will accommodate all of us, as well as guests.”
Her uncle finally spoke: “That is precisely what I told Rowena. It’s not as if I didn’t take your and your sister’s wishes in mind. I didn’t sell the home; I just let it out until you and your sister are in a better position to make such decisions. Even though it belongs to the estate, I did that as a courtesy, as that is where you both grew up and where you were closest to your father. And I’m sorry if it’s old-fashioned, but it is impossible for you two to live there on your own at your age.”
Victoria wanted to protest his last point, but she wouldn’t let herself become distracted. Arguing with her uncle about women’s suffrage and rights would not attain her objective. “While I don’t agree with your decision, it would be pointless to argue about something that is already done.”
“And yet that is exactly what you and your sister were doing and at the top of your voices, I might add,” Aunt Charlotte said, her face twisting wryly.
“But it’s not why I insisted that I meet with you both,” Victoria put in quickly. She must get this out or she might lose her nerve, and she did not wish to lose her nerve. The reason they were in this mess in the first place was because her sister had lost her nerve. Or maybe Rowena didn’t have any nerve to begin with.
“And why did you insist on meeting with us?” Uncle Conrad consulted his pocket watch as if she were keeping him from an important meeting.
“I have come to discuss Prudence with you.” Her aunt waved her hand as if there were nothing to discuss, and her uncle shook his head in disgust. “Or rather Prudence’s mother.”
The hand waving and head shaking stopped.
Victoria took a deep, careful breath even though she felt herself shaking inside, as if she were having her own personal earthquake. “I would like to discuss Prudence’s position in this family, or rather, why she is living in the servants’ quarters when that is the farthest place from where she should actually be.”
Her uncle stood, but Aunt Charlotte’s eyes never wavered from Victoria’s face. Victoria tried to meet her gaze, but her aunt’s will and character were too strong and Victoria finally turned her eyes to her uncle.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said, but his neck, slowly turning the color of a ripe tomato, gave lie to his words.
“She knows,” her aunt finally said. “The child knows.” Aunt Charlotte turned to her husband and patted his hand. “Let me deal with this, darling. Victoria is family, it will be fine.”
Victoria watched relief spread over her uncle’s features. “Thank you, my dear. I will see you before dinner in the drawing room?”
Aunt Charlotte nodded. “Of course. I sat that American, Mr. Danworth, next to you for dinner as you requested. You’ll be able to talk horses all through the meal now.”
“Thank you, my dear.” The Earl inclined his head at both Victoria and his wife and left the room.
Victoria wanted to scream. Here she was sitting on a secret that could destroy the Buxton family and they were talking about the seating chart!
Victoria settled back in the chair and readied herself to face down her aunt. The way Prudence was being treated—and lied to—was completely unjust. Victoria could gain strength from the notion that she was fighting for what was right. If she couldn’t save her father’s home, at least she could defend her sister.
* * *
Lady Summerset sat perfectly upright in her chair and took her young niece’s measure. While Rowena was far more beautiful—and less fragile—she’d apparently misjudged just how much steely resolve this particular child possessed. It no doubt came from being infirm so much of her young life. If you were sickly, you either overcame it or it overcame you. It gave one a sense of strength. And the chit certainly had more pluck and strength of character than her own daughter, who only cared for having a good time with that group of friends of hers, the Cote
rie or whatever it was they called themselves. No, Elaine was a darling girl and would make a good match, but she would never be a ruler within society.
But who would have thought that little Victoria with the peculiar passions and big eyes would be staring her down as if she could actually win this little skirmish?
Would she have pulled such a stunt at eighteen? Challenging those with authority? She certainly maneuvered and manipulated those with control, but rarely challenged them directly. Lady Summerset thought of the suffragettes in prison, starving themselves for the vote. So many of this new generation of young women had no qualms about defying authority face to face.
But would it achieve their objective?
Letting Victoria stew a bit, Lady Summerset arose from her chair and walked over to her husband’s desk. Taking out a piece of paper, she scribbled something quickly on it and then rang the bell board. Victoria looked on, puzzled and a bit apprehensive. Good. When the servant arrived she handed him the piece of paper. “Please give this to Hortense, immediately. Thank you.”
Taking her time, Lady Summerset sat back down in the chair and settled the folds of her lace dress around her. Then she gazed at her niece, unperturbed. “I asked your uncle to leave because some of the things we are going to discuss are a bit delicate for a girl such as yourself to be talking about in front of a man.”
“Really, Auntie. I’m almost nineteen.”
“Still. I don’t care what modern manners say, sensibilities demand certain decorum. Now, why don’t we come straight to the point? What do you think you know and what do you want of it?”
Victoria tilted her chin. “I know who Prudence’s father is.”
“And how is it you know the answer to a question that only God knows the real answer to?” Lady Summerset asked quietly.