“She’s a predatory widow who knows Lady Greyling and is trying to hook Alverston,” he said succinctly, turning towards Prudence to include her in the conversation.
“She is very sophisticated,” said Prudence in a rather flat voice.
“Well that’s one way of describing it,” said George grimly “I did NOT enjoy that waltz and I shall have a bone to pick with Alverston for so adroitly foisting her onto me.”
“Oh he did, did he?” said Emma.
“I should rather say so!” said George “I imagine he has experience of dancing with her; it’s a bit like wrestling with bindweed. Pretty plant but chokes the life out of any crops.”
Emma and Prudence both brightened.
Alverston stood up with Lady Elvira in one of the country dances; and with Prudence in another.
“Well, Miss Blenkinsop, what do you think of Lady Elvira?” he asked.
Prudence wrinkled her nose.
“Well My Lord, I have only George’s opinion to go on; and it was not complimentary,” she said, “she is very sophisticated I think; I believe she is looking to enjoy herself. I suppose it is a way of forgetting one’s misery over being widowed,” Prudence did not want to condemn Lady Elvira out of hand even if her attitude to Alverston made her want to curl her fingers into claws.
“Are you thinking Elvira devastated by Puggy’s death? Do not think so then, my good little innocent!” said Alverston. “He was her second choice and rich enough to make her happy, and his untimely and heroic demise in no wise diminishes that perfect and uxorial aspect of his attractions for her.”
Prudence giggled.
“You really do have the most wicked tongue Lord Alverston,” she said “If I said anything like that I should be declared an old cat!”
“Well you already knew that I have no manners,” said Alverston “And I used up the few I brought with me being polite to you early on.”
“Does one ask who her first choice was?” asked Prudence.
“Me,” said Alverston. “A long standing betrothal with a schoolroom chit as Kitty then was did, I am afraid, seem to be the most perfect salvation. Elvira can be an entertaining companion but the idea of her as a wife makes me think that poor Puggy is well out of it… and no wonder he made sure to pull strings to transfer to an active regiment. Does that shock you?”
“The fact that he was happy to run away to death or the implication that Lady Elvira has been your mistress?” asked Prudence.
He laughed.
“Well from the calm way in which you asked that question it seems your answer is ‘no’ on both counts… had I implied she was my mistress?”
Prudence considered.
“By manner rather than by word,” she said.
“You are a far too knowing and perspicacious chit,” said Alverston.
“You can’t have it both ways, Alverston, calling me innocent in one sentence and too knowing in another; it’s downright contrary,” said Prudence a trifle waspishly.
He smiled at her and she gasped.
“I AM downright contrary Miss Blenkinsop,” he said, “especially when the actions of my youth do not reflect well upon me. Are you interested in land management at all?”
“That is contrary,” said Prudence, “a complete non sequiteur…. On the whole I should say there is very little that does not interest me; Cousin George spoke of farming innovation that made me look at farming anew; so I should say, probably, yes. Why do you ask?”
“Why, because it will give us a safe topic of discussion on the morrow that is less likely to arouse your ire and leave you ringing a peal over me; I’d be a fool in the light of your warning to give you my head for washing deliberately, wouldn’t I?” and he gave her a boyish grin.
“Alverston, I think you are the most complete hand!” declared Prudence, laughing.
Chapter 18
Despite the late – and exciting – night at Almack’s, Prudence was ready in good time for Lord Alverston when he arrived and she and Hester were looking out from a quarter hour before the appointed time, in case Alverston should be early, that his horses not be discommoded. There was still unseasonal frost in the mornings and the horses must not be permitted to cool down. Alverston, who arrived almost on the stroke of ten, had brought a phaeton with a rear seat rather than his usual high perch model and John, sat behind, handed up Hester while Alverston extended one hand to Prudence.
“I thought your team were bays,” said Prudence, admiring the four matched black horses.
“They are, and they are a pair,” said Alverston, “this team is only half broken to drive and I thought if you like speed you might like to help me break them.”
Hester gave a little cry of indignation on the rear seat.
“I should be charmed,” said Prudence.
He grinned at her wickedly.
“Would you have accepted if you had known?” he asked.
“Oh yes!” said Prudence, “because I doubt there’s a horse alive that's as stubborn and contrary as you, My Lord.”
“That was definitely your point,” said Alverston, “and John is discommoded because he feels I should have warned you and that you would not have come had you known”
“I should imagine it will be a stimulating experience,” said Prudence, “but you had better tool round the block and set poor Hester off; she did not after all get given the opportunity to choose to join your Astley’s Amphitheatre.”
“I’m staying put, Miss Prudence,” said Hester firmly. “Happen tha might need some sensible body in this circus equipage.”
Alverston laughed.
“Ah Hester, you are loyal,” he said, “and a good brave woman. They are not tired yet so we shall head directly for the country and give them their heads for a while; you’ll excuse me Miss Blenkinsop if I don’t talk much; this is going to take all my concentration.”
Prudence gave herself entirely to enjoying the sensation of such power pulling the light carriage; the possible danger did not frighten her because she had every trust in Alverston’s strong hands and obvious skill. She was only glad that the fogs that had been so prevalent were not quite so thick today, though there was enough of the dusty and peculiar mist in the atmosphere to redden the sun in the sky. Alverston saw her glancing at the sun.
“Yes, it is odd weather this year,” he said, “some say that it is dust from a volcano in Borneo that has caused this dry fog, but it seems odd to consider a volcano on the other side of the world affecting us in England. The cold will make another bad harvest though, I fear.”
“It will mean poverty and starvation if there is yet another bad harvest,” said Prudence seriously, “with the Corn Laws but adding to the misery, which I cannot approve of.”
“It is a reaction against cheap foreign grain to prevent even more of the country’s money trickling out of England, with so much expended in fighting Bonaparte,” said Alverston, “but a hasty and ill considered reaction; it has meant hardship already for my tenants; it is why I have taken to horse rearing and breaking, to give my people another means of income than relying on the crops. I am sure a good thrifty girl like you will appreciate having more than one string to one’s bow.”
“I do My Lord; and I am agreeably surprised that a man about town has concern for his tenants even as Cousin George does.”
Alverston half shrugged one shoulder; his driving arm was extended straight, taut under the strain of holding the horses to a trot.
“Any man who does not have care for his tenants is a fool. Unfortunately there are a lot of fools. My tenants will do well for the foolishness of those men who will prefer four beautifully matched horses to giving relief to their tenants; but I cannot afford to take care of those outside of my responsibilities. Will your father give relief to his workers?”
“Those that need it, yes,” said Prudence, “and a meal provided to every one of them to start the day on too. And he will look you in the eye and tell you that it is not sentiment but good economic sens
e to have healthy workers.”
“I believe I like your father even more,” said Alverston. “Thank goodness; we are now in the country; I’m going to let them go. And glad I am the visibility is not so poor as it has been. Hold on tightly; this may get exciting.”
Prudence was glad that she had wrapped up warmly – Hester had insisted that she wear woollen stockings and an extra shift as well as a warm pelisse and a cloak – for the speed caused a considerable wind that felt very chill. Prudence felt her eyes water at the speed and got out a kerchief to mop them.
“Miss Blenkinsop? Are you afraid?” Alverston was concerned.
“Not in any wise, My Lord!” declared Prudence “It is the wind that makes my eyes water… most inconvenient!”
“Ah, I should have thought… reach into my pocket; there is a large silk scarf in there; if you tie it across the front of your bonnet it will cut down on the wind. It will also keep your face warmer. Hester, John will loan you his muffler.”
Prudence reached into Alverston’s pocket; it felt a very daring and intimate thing to do! The scarf was of the finest silk and when she had tied it across her bonnet, though it obscured her vision a little it was sheer enough to see through and yet stopped the worst of the wind.
“Thank you My Lord; that is much more comfortable,” she said, “and now I may really enjoy myself!”
He laughed.
“You are unique, Miss Blenkinsop; I should be willing to wager that no other female of my acquaintance would readily accompany this er, circus equipage, let alone declare the experience to be enjoyable.”
“What, was it then designed to punish me for wishing to call you names at Almack’s?” asked Prudence.
“Not in the least, my dear Miss Blenkinsop; merely that of all the females of my acquaintance I gambled on the belief that you would be the one who would enjoy it; or at the very least have the fortitude to look upon it as a learning experience.”
That he was enjoying himself there could be no doubt; his eyes shone with the joy of the tussle with the horses.
Prudence smiled. The speed was certainly exhilarating; but she also felt a deep contentment watching Alverston’s skill with the ribbons, his reading of the horses and his ever-changing hold of the reins as he read with his hands and responded to the signals of the horses’ mouths. She could see where his coat sleeve had ridden up and his shirt sleeve come unfastened in the effort that his muscles stood out like whipcord; and somehow the thought made her blush.
They had driven clear out to Ingatestone in Essex in largely companionable silence ere the horses slacked their pace at all; and Alverston reined them in and made them walk.
“I intended to stop at an inn to eat; but I don’t want them to cool and they’ve remained wilder than I hoped,” he said, “would you mind if we stop only long enough to make yourselves, you and Hester, comfortable and drink coffee at the next coaching house while John and I take turns to drive them about the yard?”
“Thank you; you are thoughtful to think of the same,” said Prudence blushing that he might think of the necessary act of making oneself comfortable. He grinned at her; and she knew he was amused that he had taken the wind out of her sails. She put up her head and stared down her nose, suddenly aware that it did not have the same effect through a black silk veil.
He chuckled; but it was a kindly laugh.
The horses held to something between an over enthusiastic walk and a trot until they pulled into the yard of a coaching inn; and Prudence and Hester jumped down thankfully and bespoke coffee for four before going in search of the inn’s more private facilities.
Alverston and John drank their coffee standing, each watching the other tool the horses about the yard; and then they were all mounting again, and Alverston gave the horses their head.
It was almost like taking flight as they bounded straight into a gallop.
Prudence gasped; then laughed in sheer delight.
“Good girl,” approved Alverston.
Hester was much relieved to be back at the house; and after Prudence had thanked Alverston and bid him farewell – the horses still wanted to run and set off rather hurriedly – she scolded her one time nurseling.
“My darling Miss Pru, tha hast bats in thy belfry sithee!” she said “Eeh, lass, he’ll kill thee!”
“No he won’t,” said Prudence, “he merely respects my ability to cope. You need not come if he asks me again.”
“Eeh, be left ahind, frettin’ and throng wi’ wondering what’s happened to thee? Sneck up lass!” said Hester.
Prudence laughed.
“Well my good Hester, you have come from the experience indignant not frightened; or I’d forbid you to come. I’d not have you frightened for anything. I doubt it will be long before those horses are as tractable as any; I fancy what Alverston sets his mind to gentle he will gentle. And it’s gentling them the man is, not breaking.”
Hester sniffed.
“Tha hast no sense where he’s concerned,” she said. “Though I grant thee, he did show consideration to me; but he’s a bedlamite think on!”
“HAPPEN,” said Prudence using the forbidden Yorkshire idiom that always made Hester scold her “I must like Bedlamites then.”
“Happen art loose a few wethers in thy top paddock,” said Hester.
Chapter 19
Prudence consulted with Emma about Miss Bullivant as Alverston had asked her to keep an eye on the girl; and invitations was despatched forthwith to Miss Bullivant, Mr Alver, Miss Fairlees, Miss Diana Wrexham and her mama, and a Mr Penrose who had danced with Prudence at Almack’s and had struck her as not being quite such a blockhead as some of her partners; and too the young daughters of the family who lived next door to John and Isabella, the oldest of whom was coming out this year and the other two suitable companions to meet Diana being young ladies of fifteen and thirteen. The event was to be an informal rout party with parlour games, the which was made quite clear. The daughter of the manse ought to be relieved that gambling was not to be the order of the day, and George sallied forth to purchase a box of silver or mother of pearl fish, or whatever was available, for the counters of such perennial favourites as lottery tickets and speculation.
“Quadrille and Speculation require some skill in making bids; Lottery Tickets is by far and away a simpler game and we have to make allowances for those of the company who are less clever,” said Prudence. “I doubt Diana will have any trouble; she’s sharp. But Kitty Fairlees is certainly NOT overly blessed with intellect, and Miss Bullivant does not seem much better.”
“Now dear cousin, you must not confuse poor-spirited with a lack of intellect,” said Emma, gently chiding, “I confess that low intellect seems too to carry with it a sad lack of spirit, but the other way round is not necessarily so.”
Mr Alver, who escorted Miss Bullivant and her guardian harridan, in the form of an aunt who had been indisposed on the day that the fair Clara – such was Miss Bullivant named – had sallied forth alone. Prudence heard
all about the hacking cough that this dreadful continuous fog caused in the unfortunate woman and recommended a syrup of violets obtainable from any good chemist, added to a drink made of lemons and honey, both of which might be readily obtained in London, though the bad harvests had priced honey almost out of the market, and bees were said to be dying of the cold in their droves. The mother of the daughters from next door, Emily, Cecily and Amelia was soon ensconced in cosy chat about ailments and remedies with the older Miss Bullivant.
Mr Alver was full of praise for dear kind Mrs Knightley who was so thoughtful to think of such a wonderful way to help Miss Bullivant meet a few people and find her feet in town; and Emma was relieved that she had retired, in his mind, up a pedestal, as unobtainable goddess who was to be admired rather than adored. Miss Bullivant was a sweet natured girl, not devoid of brains, but totally overset by the onslaught of impressions in the city, and somewhat cowed by them. Prudence drew her out, and discovered that she and her moth
er and her next sister had made all her own gowns in anticipation of this one Season that she might afford, leaving off trim to the last minute to conform with fashion. She hoped to manage a season on just five hundred pounds with clever economy.
“Papa says that to hanker after fashion and position is sinful” she said wistfully “But Mama says that men have no practicality and must be judiciously ignored. And with good fashion I might manage to marry someone who will see all my siblings comfortably established because I am the oldest of eight surviving children, and all papa’s living goes on keeping Harry at school so it is up to me to find a way to get little Thomas to school as well. And Lucy is so good natured to sew for me because she has very little chance of a Season herself you know, unless I can marry someone who can contribute towards it. And I know I should worry more about marrying a good man, but one cannot help wishing for someone who is both good and
wealthy because then mama will not have to worry. She,
of course, is in Tring with the younger ones; Aunt Charity is very good to be my chaperone. My third sister is named after her, but it is unfortunate, and she is….wanting. But perfectly amiable!” she added hastily.
“I am sure she is a perfectly nice girl and as I understand people with such afflictions are most affectionate,” said Prudence.
“Oh my DEAR Miss Blenkinsop, how understanding you are! Yes, it is just so with Cherry – we call her Cherry though papa feels that Charity is a lovely name; I cannot myself, however, agree. Charity is so often given with the wrong motives don’t you think?”
“I think that the naming of a gift of love as charity makes it somehow suspect in terms of the motives,” said Prudence, “Lord Alverston takes care of his tenants during this long famine but I rather fancy he would be faintly revolted if anyone referred to it as charity; he sees it as his duty and his pleasure to thus take care of dependants.”
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