The Countess and The Baron: Lady Prudence Baggington (The Nettlefold Chronicles Book 3)

by Isabella Thorne

  “How long have you been married, child?” Sister Beatrice asked.

  Lady Prudence admitted to the few months which she had been formally wed. Still, it felt like an eternity.

  “My child, I have had dozens of ladies come to my doors in shock at the changes of life after marriage,” the nun explained. “Few are prepared for the truth of it. Ladies fill their heads with fairy tales and that is not what marriage is. Love is one thing, but reality is quite another.”

  “I assure you that I am not blinded by idealism,” Lady Prudence persisted.

  “Still,” the Mother Abbess continued, “we have no right to keep you here when you belong to another.”

  Her words brought about a finality that both Lady Prudence and her sister knew better than to attempt to argue against. The Reverend Mother allowed that their guest might remain for the night only. In the morning, she would be returned to the village with express instruction to be delivered back to her husband.

  3

  Prudence could not fault the nun. She had a convent filled with women to look after and, while Prudence had hoped to hide amongst them, there was little that they could do to circumvent the will of an earl, or any gentleman of note for that matter. Still, she could not help but be crushed at the knowledge that her entire plan lay in pieces, a failure.

  She thanked the nun for the offer of a bed and bath for the evening, declining the later for sake of her own sanity.

  “If you are to stay with us you will bathe, my lady,” the Reverend Mother instructed. “Cleanliness is next to godliness.”

  “I am fine, I am sure,” Prudence protested still clutching the bag close. “I would not want to inconvenience you.”

  The Mother Abbess gave her a look, and Prudence was sure she thought Prudence did not want to bathe in such meager accommodations. That was not the case.

  The old nun folded her arms over her ample breast. “Lady Fondleton, you may be more civilized than our usual ways, but you are worn by the road and I should expect a higher level of cleanliness during your stay within our walls. After your wash you shall also be fed, if you wish.”

  Lady Prudence was not ashamed by the lecture. She was not one who was used to such a slovenly state. Yet, neither did she wish to bathe in the presence of these women of faith, for she had been offered the aid of their hands despite her assurance that she could manage on her own. The temptation of a meal was the only thing that allowed her mind to sway.

  Temperance linked her arm through her sister’s and steered her down the hall and toward the bathhouse.

  “Really,” Lady Prudence muttered, “I am leaving in the morning, I shall not need a wash.”

  Temperance rolled her eyes as she had used to when they were children. The gloss of her midnight tresses glinted in the candlelight.

  “Prudence, you ought to bathe,” she whispered. “You are waist deep in mud and leaving a trail with each step. We shall clean for a month after your visit.”

  Lady Prudence glanced behind her where there was, in fact, a trail of crumbling dirt in her wake. With a sigh of resignation she agreed to the task. At least the nuns would be civil about it, she thought. At the very least they knew how to keep their own council, unlike most ladies’ maids.

  Her gown was stripped and hastened off to be cleaned as best as was possible. If there was any chance of saving the dress, it would be attempted, though Lady Prudence thought it might be best to just cut it to rags at this point.

  Temperance and one other postulant were given the task of bathing their guest, a lowly job Lady Prudence realized for the others were surely fast asleep in their beds at this hour.

  Lady Prudence was surprised when her sister remained silent.

  “Really Prudence, what were you thinking?” were the words that she had expected to hear from her sister’s mouth. Instead, Temperance set about her task with singular focus. Five years cloistered and she had seemed to forget how to speak.

  “Temperance,” Lady Prudence put her hand upon her sister’s arm as she reached out to untie her undergarments. The other postulant, a freckle faced girl with brassy hair and eyes that were set wide in her face, never gave her name as she hauled buckets of boiled water into the basin.

  Temperance looked into her sister’s eyes, resigned to their fates. There was nothing more that could be done now that the Abbess had made her decision.

  Lady Prudence released a deep sigh and turned her back to allow her sister better ease in the task. She felt fingers at the laces upon her back.

  Then, a gasp.

  Cool air hit Lady Prudence’s back as the sheath slipped from her shoulders and down along the winding curves of her body. What had once been peaks and valleys of pale, milky skin was now mottled with purples and greens. The sickly pallor of bruises newly acquired beside those in the later stages of healing brought both postulants to her side.

  Soft fingers traced the ridges of her back, puckered welts from where she had been beaten with a strap. Ligature marks from restraints marked her limbs, a telltale sign of the earl’s preferences.

  A soft plea to the Lord was whispered as trembling fingers traced the tender flesh that was scarred and scabbed in several places. There was the distinct shape of a human bite mark. Hidden beneath the fabric of her gown, Lady Prudence’s body was a graveyard of violent memory. Nary an inch was left unmarred save that which might be exposed to public view. Jasper Numbton was practiced enough to keep his violent perversions masked to outside world. Rather, his wife had been left to suffer in silence as she learned to hide the marks and bear through the pain of his assaults.

  Not a word needed to be said to send the other postulant racing from the room in terror.

  “It’s alright,” Temperance murmured as she wrapped her arms around her sister’s naked frame. “He cannot hurt you any longer, little sister. I promise you that.”

  Lady Prudence did her best not to shrink away from Temperance’s protective embrace. The kindness of human touch had been forgotten for such a long time that it was all that she could do not to flinch as the gentle hands guided her into the warm waters.

  “There is nothing that can be done,” Lady Prudence sobbed as tears began to stream into the bath. “if the sisters won’t let me stay, where will I go?”

  “There must be a way,” her sister said with a vigor that seemed to spring forth from some forgotten reservoir.

  “I am wed,” Lady Prudence whispered in her meek voice a mantra she had been taught to repeat in recent months. “I belong to him.”

  “You belong to God,” Temperance spat.

  “No,” Lady Prudence said. “God has forsaken me.”

  “Blasphemy,” Temperance said. “A gentleman of this ilk has no right to a wife.”

  “You say that,” Lady Prudence protested, though the word of support was like a balm to her wounds, “but you forget what the world is like outside of these walls. Men are unkind. Have you forgotten?”

  Temperance’s eyes grew dark, almost black with anger that seethed just beneath the surface.

  “I have never forgotten,” she asserted. “Nor will I.” Her voice was low, dangerous, and certainly nothing that might come to be expected from one who was soon to take her vows of poverty, chastity, faith, and charity. For a moment, Lady Prudence glimpsed the spark that she had once known her sister to possess. That is, before it was covered with the demure focus of one who was to wash every speck of dirt from her sister’s exhausted limbs.

  They continued in silence, the practice of sisterly conversation having been forgotten in their isolations.

  When the door opened once more, Lady Prudence expected the figure that entered to be that of the mute postulant. Instead, it was none other than the Mother Abbess herself.

  “Stand, my child,” she instructed with a soft wave of her hand as if she might compel Lady Prudence from the waters.

  Instinct forced her to shrink down into the warmth so that the suds that floated along the surface of the bath masked th
e flaws of her flesh.

  “I must see for myself,” the Reverend Mother allowed an expression of pain to cross her features, revealing that she hoped that what she had been told was not true, or perhaps an exaggeration.

  Lady Prudence glanced at her sister, still kneeling beside the basin. Temperance nodded in silence.

  With her breath held tight in her chest and her eyes cast downward, Prudence rose from the water to reveal the freshly cleaned surface of her skin.

  It was worse than the Mother Abbess had anticipated, there could be no mistake about that. Now that the mud had been washed away, several more bite marks had become apparent. Areas that had merely looked unclean, were now unmistakably an extension of the pattern of bruises that trailed across her body.

  The Mother Abbess’s hand flew to her mouth, and when she took it from her lips she said in a soft voice. “The church demands a wife submit to her husband, but this…” She shook her head. “I do not believe The Lord requires a wife to submit to torture.” She waved Prudence back to the cooling water. “You will stay here as long as necessary until I might find a safe place to hide you away,” she promised.

  Lady Prudence felt as if she could cry anew, but there were no tears left in her. Instead, she sank down in shocked silence at the turn of events in her favor.

  “It is well that the road is out for it shall prevent visitors, and questions,” the nun continued. “That shall purchase us a few days’ time to form a plan.”

  Lady Prudence was peppered with questions about her husband and the likelihood that he might pursue her. Without a doubt, Lady Prudence confirmed their worst fears.

  “He is a proud man and likes nothing more than a challenge,” she admitted. “In fact, I am not entirely certain that he would not take great personal pleasure in… the hunt.”

  She shivered at the realization that she was now little more than prey in his game. Lord Fondleton would come after her with his full effort. No expense would be spared. She had hoped that leaving the jewels would satisfy him, but she knew that was not so. He would not rest until he had won. She wondered if there was anywhere that might be safe. Perhaps even the colonies would not be too far for his extensive reach.

  “There is one more thing…” Lady Prudence grimaced as she stepped from the water and pulled a long length of cloth around herself for both coverage and absorption.

  “Are you with child?” the Mother Abbess asked with wide, fearful eyes.

  “Not that I am aware of,” Lady Prudence shook her head. She could see the relief in the eyes of the other two women. A child would present another layer of complications. She might be able to run from him, but he would not allow his heir to be taken. Just to be safe, she sent a plea to the heavens that her womb remained untouched. Her husband had seemed to be more intent on other pleasures than the act which might get her with child. “Just one more thing…” she said again.

  “Then, out with it,” the nun pressed. “We haven’t all night.”

  Lady Prudence pressed her lips together in a nervous gesture that prevented her from groaning at her plight. She had only barely been accepted into the abbey, and only for the state of her health. There was no guarantee that they would be forgiving of any further surprises.

  She padded over to her carpet bag, which sat in the corner. The sound of her damp feet upon the cool stone floor was all that could be heard. She would have to get used to the silent nature of these women. The bag had been left open, but she pulled the mouth wider to peer inside. A small yip greeted her.

  “You’re awake!” she whispered, her face transforming into a wide grin.

  “You said there was no child!” Sister Beatrice exclaimed. “What have you done?” It was clear that she thought Lady Prudence had stolen a child and carried it in her bag. The truth was not so far from her assumption.

  She reached into the recesses of the nearly empty container. She had packed no other clothing save the dress she wore. Those that she possessed would have drawn too much attention. Besides, she thought, she hated them all.

  Instead, she had brought only her most prized possessions. She still felt a twinge of regret at the loss of the comb but knew that her mother would forgive her in the haste of her escape.

  Her hands cradled the tiny life within and she drew it from the darkness and held it against her breast. There, it curled against the cloth that covered her body, opened its mouth into a wide yawn, and settled against her.

  “Why it is a puppy!” Temperance exclaimed and rushed to her sister’s side to peer at the small creature.

  “Whatever made you bring that creature with you?” Sister Beatrice asked, though it was clear from her tone that she had a heart that was fond of animals. Lady Prudence held the small brown pup, as plain as herself, out to the nun who took it with a small gasp and a sigh.

  “She was the runt,” Lady Prudence explained. “Jasper was going to have her drowned. I heard him speak of it. I couldn’t leave her, I just couldn’t bear the thought. We both escaped. Together.”

  Sister Beatrice looked indignant at the prospect of the loss of life.

  “I shouldn’t allow it,” she murmured while her fingers stroked the feather soft fur of the animal’s ears. “Really, it’s a luxury… an extra mouth to feed.”

  “She’s too small to cause any issues,” Temperance reasoned. “Really, I doubt she can do more than hobble at this point. A rag of milk will fill her belly. That is not too much to spare. I’ll even forego my own glass if you’d like, Mother.”

  Sister Beatrice was humming to the waking pup as she rocked back and forth. A tiny, pink tongue flicked out and tasted her hand. Her heart melted before Lady Prudence’s eyes.

  “I shall have to find a place that can take you both,” Sister Beatrice concluded. “It shall be your duty to keep her care. I’ll not have a spectacle in my Abbey.”

  “Of course,” Lady Prudence could not keep the grin from her face. It appeared that they had both been saved this very night. She and Posey, as she had come to call the pup during her trek along the winding road to the Abbey. She had let the animal down from her bag as she sat for a moment to rest her blistered feet.

  The small brown puppy had done its best to waddle through the field of flowers that bordered the lane, attacking each small flower with a vengeance that was contrary to her minuscule size. Lady Prudence had laughed at the battle between the pup and its namesake. Posey, she had decided would be her name.

  Sister Beatrice made her farewells so that she might compose a letter to be delivered by the groundskeeper that very evening. The cover of darkness would prevent any suspicions while also allowing her to act with utmost urgency. Lady Prudence wondered to whom she might be writing and how they might come to her aide.

  Temperance assisted her in dressing. The rough woolen gowns that the postulants wore were nothing more than a sheath compared to her usual gowns. Still, she did not complain. She would disguise herself as a shrub if that is what it took to evade Lord Fondleton.

  The offer of sustenance for herself and the pup was accepted with gratitude. Temperance procured a small hunk of bread and butter along with a bowl of some sort of mash that Posey gobbled up without hesitation. Lady Prudence was proud to witness her growth and knew that it was only a matter of time before the dog was as healthy as any.

  Lady Prudence was weary and relieved for the offer of a small room with a sleeping mat in the corner and a pile of warm blankets to crawl beneath. She wanted to ask her sister to stay with her, to rest at her side as they had when they needed to guard against the terrors of the night as children, but Temperance had murmured her farewell and slipped away into the dormitory where she would be expected to sleep amongst her peers.

  It still hurt Prudence to think that her sister was to be so removed from their family. Yet, she could not blame her. Temperance had received the brunt of the burden that the Baggington sisters had to endure as a result of her pure and extraordinary beauty.

  Lady Prudence had alw
ays thought it amusing that the gossips of Nettlefold proper referred to herself, and her family, as the baggage. It was true that they carried a surplus of secrets indeed, she had often thought. Only, the mental rather than physical sort. Little did the gossips know just how many secrets their family concealed in the isolation of the cold manor walls.

  Lady Prudence fell to sleep that evening without a nightmare. It was the first time in months that her mind had drifted into the relief of blackness. She cared not if she slept until lunchtime. She cared not if she did not even wake at all.

  4

  Prudence spent the next two days hidden away in the tiny room with nothing more than Posey and a small circular window with a view of the clouds to occupy her time. Temperance returned twice a day with a small tray of plain food, a crust of bread with a bowl of soup or a boiled egg and an apple, but she dared not stay too long to converse.

  Posey was well fed and loved, though she did tear the feathers from a pillow one evening. The eldest Baggington once brought a Bible for her sister to read but it lay abandoned beside the mat on the floor. How could she read the Bible when she had abandoned her husband? Lady Prudence would not have minded a frivolous novella or compilation of poetry, but of course the nuns would never possess such items.

  Sister Beatrice was right to keep her hidden away from the others. There were nearly seventy women that resided within the convent’s protective walls. Far too many to risk a word slipping out of her arrival. The few that had met Lady Prudence that fateful evening had been sworn to secrecy.

  It was not until the fifth day that the isolation began to feel oppressive. Prior to that it was like a haven of silence and peace. Now, she wished to feel a breeze upon her face or hear the sound of another’s voice. Perhaps it was that her body was finally able to begin its process of healing. Her bruises were fading, though some would take longer to disappear in their entirety. The welts had lessened with the help of small poultices and rubs that had been provided and even her muscles were beginning to move without aches and the sharp stabs of pain that had become commonplace.