by Brown, T. J.
Victoria faltered but only for a moment. “You know, when my suspicions were first raised, I thought perhaps Uncle Conrad was her father or worse.” Here Victoria closed her eyes for a moment, but then took a deep breath and continued. “Or worse, perhaps my own father. But it wasn’t either one of them, was it?”
Lady Summerset had a biting retort on the tip of her tongue, but she knew how much it must cost the child to even consider her own father, so she held it in. “No, it was not.”
Victoria looked down at the ground, and Lady Summerset felt a pang of pity for her. Life was so much more painful for those who faced it head-on.
“My grandfather was some kind of monster, wasn’t he?” Victoria said.
Lady Summerset gave a surprised laugh. “A monster? Hardly. He was a man who had certain tastes and had the power to get what he wanted. I’m sorry to put it so bluntly, but as you said, you’re almost nineteen.”
“But if it was against her will?” Victoria cried out.
“Who knows if it was? We weren’t there, we don’t know.”
“So you’re not denying that the former Earl of Summerset is Prudence’s father?”
There was a cry at the door where Hortense stood with Prudence by her side. Prudence was as white as a sheet. Victoria rushed to her side and she and Hortense helped Prudence into the chair next to Victoria’s.
“You may leave us now, Hortense. Please have hot tea waiting in my boudoir. And have my bath drawn, please.”
Hortense disappeared while Victoria knelt down next to Prudence, rubbing her hands. The girl looked as if she was going to faint.
“I’m sorry, Prudence. I was going to tell you after I spoke to my aunt.”
Prudence just shook her head.
Lady Summerset watched both of them. There was no doubt the family resemblance was strong in Prudence, which was one of the reasons Philip had listened to her pleas and not brought her back to Summerset. What a fool he was to rescue the girl’s mother like that and raise the child as family. As if she had a right to it all! She shook her head. No matter what her husband and brother-in-law told her, the girl had no rights whatsoever.
But even at that, she wasn’t an unfeeling person. There would be a respectable resolution to the issue. There would have to be. They had kept the scandal at bay for too long to have it exposed by two foolish young girls. She brought her attention back to the matter at hand.
“I don’t understand,” Prudence finally said.
“Victoria? Don’t you think you should be the one to tell her?” she said.
Victoria stood, still holding Prudence’s hand in hers. “I went to Nanny Iris with my suspicions last night and she told me the truth.”
Prudence looked around, confused. “Nanny Iris? Sir Philip and the Earl’s old nanny? What would she have to do with anything?”
Before Victoria could answer, Lady Summerset shook her head. “Perhaps the story should be told by someone who knows all the facts.”
“Nanny Iris had enough facts that the family paid her off handsomely,” Victoria flared.
“Sit down, Victoria,” Lady Summerset snapped. “You forget, this isn’t just Prudence’s story, it’s Halpernia’s, as well. This isn’t just a family scandal. It’s a tragedy, so let’s conduct ourselves accordingly.” Victoria fell quiet. Lady Summerset looked at Prudence. “You know who Halpernia was?”
Prudence nodded.
Lady Summerset stood and poured herself a glass of brandy from the crystal decanter her husband kept on his desk. She took one sip and then another while the girls watched her silently. No wonder he enjoyed his brandy so well. It really did calm the nerves.
“Victoria is right, Prudence. As far as we know, you are the daughter of the late Earl of Summerset, Harold Xavier Conrad Buxton. Your mother was a maid here during that time. He took a liking to her and as happens, she soon found herself with child.” Victoria tried to interrupt, but Lady Summerset held up her hand. “No, I will not speculate on whether the interlude was forced or mutual. That hardly has any bearings on the current situation anyway.”
“That’s because it’s not your mother, Lady Summerset, nor the story of your birth.”
Prudence’s voice was tight and bitter, and Lady Summerset had an urge to slap her.
“Your mother wasn’t the only one,” Victoria broke in. “There was more than one town girl and one of them even killed herself!”
“Enough!” Lady Summerset snapped. She looked at the glass in her hand and then took another sip. “Let’s not stray too far from the story at hand. What may or may not have happened with other young women has no bearing on Prudence’s mother, or Halpernia for that matter.”
Victoria subsided and Lady Summerset went on. “Alice and Nanny Iris were quite close and Nanny Iris tutored the girl when they were done with their duties. Little Halpernia took a liking to Alice, and when Nanny Iris had an afternoon off, Halpernia wanted no one else but Alice to care for her. Once, when they were out walking . . .” Here she paused and wasn’t sure she would be able to go on. She and Conrad had been out walking with little Collin that morning and heard the cries. She’d never wanted to speak of these things again, and now here she was being forced to. She took a deep breath and continued, resolutely. “No one knows exactly what happened, but somehow Alice neglected her duties while with the Earl, and little Halpernia drowned in the pond.”
Prudence gasped and Victoria drew closer to her.
“So girls, what do you think the family did after that? Lady Margaret, the Earl’s wife, had a nervous breakdown. The Earl never quite got over it and had his first stroke nine months later. They pensioned off Nanny Iris generously, as her services were no longer needed. Alice was discharged, of course. She would have been let go anyway, as soon as her condition became public knowledge.”
“Of course,” Prudence said, her voice bitter.
“What would you have them do? Decorate her for finding the body?” Lady Summerset snapped. Prudence looked away. “Philip had recently married and left for London. Knowing that your mother was expecting a child, he hired a private investigator and found her in dire straits, so he spoke to his wife and they offered her a position in their household. I’m sure he felt some obligation to you as you were his half sister. The rest you know.”
Lady Summerset folded her hands across the top of her dress and waited.
Victoria was the first to speak. “So knowing all of that, why did you try to make her into a servant? She is a Buxton! She’s my aunt!”
Prudence leapt to her feet, her eyes flashing. “No, I’m not! I’m living proof of both a scandal and a tragedy. I’m the bastard child of either a shameful situation or a vicious attack. My mother was the reason your real aunt died. Why would anyone, except your father, who was the kindest person in the world, welcome me into his arms and home? According to your class, I am worse than a nobody!”
“But we don’t believe that!” Victoria cried out.
“It doesn’t matter what you believe, Vic. That’s the way the world works. They didn’t want me here, so they made it unbearable for me to be here.”
Silence descended upon the group. The ancient clock behind them was the only sound in the study besides the slight wheezing of Victoria breathing.
Lady Summerset finally cleared her throat. “I think when Victoria came to me this evening, she wanted to have her story confirmed and she had some grand idea that you would somehow be accepted into the family so she wouldn’t have to worry about losing you, but that’s not going to happen, is it, Prudence?”
Prudence stood in front of Lady Summerset. The girl was still wearing her fine walking suit from that afternoon. Her Buxton breeding and genteel upbringing showed in her perfect carriage and the fine set of her head. Pity, really.
“No,” she spat out. “I have been lied to, betrayed, and treated abysmally. Why on earth would I ever want to be a Buxton and align myself with your kind?”
“Prudence! Stop!” Victoria cried.
Lady Summerset nodded. This was exactly the type of response she expected. “I’m not an unfeeling woman. If you require some kind of money, we would be more than happy to . . .”
Prudence shook her head. Her set jaw and clenched fists showed just how difficult it was for the girl to keep herself under control. Lady Summerset respected that. She’d felt the same way on more than one occasion.
She tried again. “Tomorrow is Christmas, but I am sure if I called the inn . . .”
“That won’t be necessary,” Prudence said. “I have family in town.”
Lady Summerset inclined her head and Prudence left the room without a backward glance.
“Prudence!” Victoria cried out again. “Wait!”
Lady Summerset caught hold of Victoria’s arm before she could run after her friend. “Give her some time. Think of the shocks the girl has had today.”
“But she needs me!” Victoria said.
Lady Summerset sighed. How like the young to act like they could change everything. Victoria would be crushed by Prudence’s departure, but she would accept it. One of the advantages of youth was the ability to accept the unacceptable. She gathered the girl gently into her arms. How long had it been since she had held her own daughter like this? Before finishing school, surely. “Your friend needs to be alone now. Give her a day or so and then go to her. You will be more help to her once you both have calmed down. She’ll feel differently then, surely.”
Prudence wouldn’t and Lady Summerset knew it, but she let Victoria cry, brokenhearted, in her arms, wondering whether Hortense would ever be able to get the tearstains out of her lace.
EPILOGUE
The repetitive rattle of the train would have lulled Prudence to sleep if she had been able to sleep, but considering that she hadn’t slept for the past five nights, there was little chance she would do so now.
At least she wasn’t alone.
In hindsight, she was glad she’d asked Victoria to attend the wedding. If anyone was innocent in all this, it was Vic, who only wanted Prudence to move from her attic room to Vic’s room. Victoria, who had received all of her father’s sweet idealism, but little of his wisdom. Victoria, who thought that if only she could prove that Prudence was indeed a Buxton, her aunt and uncle would relent and accept Prudence as a member of the family.
And Victoria wondered why the other girls treated her like an imaginative child.
Of course, Victoria’s presence only served to remind Prudence of Rowena’s absence. But she didn’t want to think about Rowena right now. Maybe never, but definitely not right now.
Prudence wished to forget she was a Buxton, to forget that she had the same blood as the people who treated others as if they were only a means to an end. Who would pay servants to quiet the death of a child or the ruin of a young woman?
Unbidden, Rowena’s pretty features came to mind and Prudence’s heart squeezed painfully, as it always did when she thought of the young woman who had been like her sister. She wanted to forget she had the same blood as someone who would betray a loved one because telling the truth was too hard or inconvenient.
She thought of her mother and the pain in her heart increased. And she especially wanted to forget she had the same blood as a man who evidently would not take no for an answer when it came to young women.
Prudence had had much time to dig further for information about her family this past week while staying at the inn. Her cousin helped her uncover other rumors about the former earl, a man people hated so much that by the end of his life he daren’t set foot in town. No wonder the current Earl of Summerset spent so much money putting a wing on the new hospital and improving things for his tenants.
Compensation.
Restlessly, Prudence settled more comfortably in her seat. The man next to her stirred and she froze, not wanting to wake him. God knows he hadn’t gotten enough sleep either this past week. She smiled tenderly. A good man. He was a good man and even if she wasn’t sure about her feelings right now, she knew she would learn to love him.
He had been by her side the moment he’d heard of the ruckus and had refused to leave. He didn’t care about scandal or class or even what his family thought. Only her.
She stared at the bouquet she still carried. Yes, she’d been right to invite Vic. Somehow Victoria had known that Prudence wouldn’t think of flowers, or any of the other little touches that go along with marriages that had more than five days of planning. So Vic had gathered her favorites from the conservatory and made a bouquet for her.
“I know it’s heavy on Gardenia jasminoides, but the conservatory didn’t have much of a selection,” Victoria had said, her lower lip drooping.
It had been the only time all day Prudence had felt like breaking down. But in the end, she had remained dry-eyed throughout the little ceremony that was attended only by Victoria, Susie, Wesley and his parents, and Cook on Prudence’s side and his brother and sister-in-law and father on the groom’s side.
Andrew stirred again and hesitantly Prudence reached out and patted his shoulder. His eyes flickered open and smiled at her before closing again. The night he had come to her she had told him almost everything, including her parentage. She didn’t tell him about the job Lord Sebastian offered her because in her mind and heart that was no longer an option. Her cheeks heated as she remembered her cowardice. She hadn’t even faced Sebastian with her decision not to take the job, but instead sent him a little note, thanking him for his kindness. She said nothing in her note about Andrew.
She may not have known exactly where she belonged, but she knew where she didn’t belong and that was with the Buxtons, the Billingslys, the Kittredges, or any of the other families of the upper social class. No. That life would not be her life. She wanted nothing to do with them. Any of them.
Instead, she would move to Devon and after hard work and sacrifice, she would be the wife of a farmer veterinarian and it would be a good and happy life, one worthy of the man who had raised her. And if she missed the family and home she grew up with?
Prudence took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Well, then she would just have to make her own family. Her own home. That was all.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Every writer of historical fiction comes up against the question of how far to bend history to accommodate plot and how far to bend plot to accommodate history. For this project, I had an amazing historical researcher and fact checker, Evangeline Holland (www.edwardianpromenade.com), who was quick to let me know when I had strayed too far. Then I had to make the decision of plot versus history. Most of the time, history won out. I dearly wanted to keep the details of the book as close to La Belle Époque as possible, but there were times when the story itself came first. For instance, the funeral customs set in the first and second chapters of the book more closely resemble modern American customs than they do Edwardian customs, but here story trumped history. (You can read more about the funeral customs of the Victorians and Edwardians at Evangeline’s great site.)
Besides Edwardian Promenade, I had many wonderful historical resources, both primary and secondary, to help me on my way. But I apologize in advance for any historical inaccuracies contained within the book and claim each mistake as my own and not the responsibility of my incredible fact-checker or resources.
NONFICTION RESOURCES
The Perfect Summer: England 1911, Just Before the Storm by Juliet Nicolson
Manners and Rules of Good Society: An Etiquette Classic by Anonymous
Victorian and Edwardian Fashions from “La Mode Illustrée”
The Opulent Eye by Nicholas Cooper
Below Stairs by Margaret Powell
The World of Downton Abbey by Jessica Fellowes
Victorian and Edwardian Fashion: A Photographic Survey by Alison Gernsheim
FICTION RESOURCES
A Room with a View by E. M. Forster
Howards End by E. M. Forster
The Edwardians by Vita Sackville West
Th
e House at Riverton by Kate Morton
Continue reading for an exclusive excerpt from
Summerset Abbey:
A Bloom in Winter
Book Two in the
Summerset Abbey Series
T. J. Brown
March 2013 from Gallery Books
The next time Victoria opened her eyes, the light was on. She blinked a couple of times and was startled when a woman with a thick East End accent said, “You’re awake now, so don’t you be playing possum, and don’t start your screaming or else the doctor will be sending you to the asylum, and trust me, darling, you would rather be here.”
Victoria froze. The scent of bleach and urine still assaulted her nose. The one small window above her head let in no light and she could see bars at the top. Her heart pounded a little faster. “Tell me where I am!”
“You can say please, you know. Just because I’m a nurse and you’re a suffragette doesn’t mean you needn’t use your manners.”
Victoria tried to move and realized that not only was her arm chained, but her leg was as well.
The woman laughed. “You’ll not be kicking me again.”
“I’m sorry,” Victoria said earnestly. “Please. Where am I?”
The woman came closer. She wore a blue and white striped shirt, a long skirt of cheap wincey, and a crisp white apron that covered her head to toe. A white linen cap covered her hair. She smelled strongly of lye soap, but it was infinitely better than the urine stench. Her eyes were a bright, saucy blue. “That’s more like it. You’re in Holloway prison.”
Victoria whimpered, her heartbeat accelerating and her chest tightening. She closed her eyes and counted, taking little breaths until the vise on her chest eased. Once she could breathe easily again, she asked, “Why am I here?”
“You don’t know?” The nurse sounded surprised. “That’s a new one. Most of you suffragettes are proud of your exploits! Don’t you remember?”