Cousin Prudence

by Waldock, Sarah

  “Miss Potts,” she said, “Miss Henrietta Potts. I think there is one down by the stile.”

  “Then I shall just go and wet the bandage,” said Arthur, heading off to do so as he tore the cravat from about his neck. Neither of the girls made him in any way wish to foreswear his vow of eschewing women; indeed he was glad that they came as a matched pair as one might say or avoiding an entanglement might have been hard!

  He carried back his wetted cravat and proceeded to bind Miss Rawlinson’s foot. It was no expert piece of work; but the cold water and the relief of the pressure made her give a little cry of sheer relief.

  “Can you stand on it if we help you Em?” asked Miss Potts.

  The idea of half carrying a young female for the time it would take her to hobble to the high street filled Arthur with horror.

  “No need, Miss Rawlinson; I am sure you are quite light enough for me to manage,” he declared firmly.

  Miss Rawlinson gave a little squeak; but was glad enough to be swept up in strong arms. Arthur might not yet possess such fine shoulders as his uncle; but he was an athletic youth and his shoulders and arms were strong. Miss Rawlinson might be rather an armful but Arthur had no difficulty.

  And her obviously bandaged foot also meant that nobody should get the wrong idea.

  He was glad to leave the girls at Mr Perry’s and stopped politely to explain what had happened when called upon by Miss Bates to come in for a dish of tea and do so.

  “Upon my word, Mr Alver, you are the soul of courtesy; so strong too!” declared Miss Bates, “and how lucky for Miss Rawlinson that you happened along; for I am sure Miss Potts would never think of anything practical to do! Pray, Mr Alver tell me – I have been meaning to ask – your name is so like that of the Noble Lord one cannot but wonder……”

  Miss Bates had been wondering whether Mr Alver were a natural child of the Marquess, partially acknowledged.

  “Eh?” said Arthur “Oh, Alver is our family name; my uncle’s full name is Gervase William Marcus Alexander Alver, Marquess of Alverston; I’m the son of the by-blow and black sheep of the family. All my other uncles died respectably in battle, but my father and I were always permitted the name. He only loaded me with a couple of names though; Arthur Selwyn. Selwyn was the name of an uncle of my mother’s you see, from whom my father had expectations on my behalf, but the old man remarried in his seventies and sired half a dozen hopeful children after making it clear he wanted nothing to do with my father or me, so I do not really trouble to use it.”

  “Dear me!” said Miss Bates, who was planning out how to write all this delicious information to dear Jane. “How very interesting!”

  “Oh do you think so?” said Arthur “It is a little more convenient to have a surname close to one’s title I should think; my Aunt Georgiana is Georgiana, Lady Greyling, because her husband is Earl Greyling but the family name is Wrexham and there was the most obnoxious woman that she met in Brighton who insisted on calling her ‘Mrs Greyling’ and asked if she was a remarried widow or if her children were illegitimate; fortunately Georgie – she refuses to be aunt, you know – has a sense of humour and saw the funny side. She and Uncle Roger – her husband – took the children to the seaside you know, but Georgie said that Brighton is sadly overrated. They go normally to Cromer which I understand is delightful.”

  “Why yes; Mr Perry recommends Cromer also,” said Miss Bates, “it is said to have excellent beaches and a superior kind of air. Very bracing I believe.”

  Arthur laughed.

  “For bracing I could recommend no more than Wethertop at Alverston; I do not believe that the wind ever stops blowing there. It is capital for flying kites! Uncle

  Gervase always took Cousin Kitty and me there when we were small; by jove, he made a capital kite for us; I wonder if it is still at Alver House? I must go and see next time I’m up there! Miss Bates, is there anything I can get you at the shops while I am here? I must call in to the haberdasher for a pair of gloves; I tore these ones on a thorn while I was reaching to dip my cravat in the water to bind Miss er……the young lady’s foot,” Arthur having forgotten her name already, “and I doubt it will mend.”

  “Why, Mr Alver! If you will leave it with me, I feel sure I can mend so trifling a tear…. But if you would be kind enough to get me a peck of dried peas from the grocer I should be much obliged; I thought I had plenty, but when I came to look I discovered I was quite out; I was about to step out when I saw you come by.”

  “I’d be delighted,” said Arthur who quite enjoyed Miss Bates’ artless prattle.

  It may be said that Miss Bates made so fine a mend to the small tear that Arthur was constrained to plant a kiss on her cheek ‘as one might do to the dear friend of so fine a fellow as George without causing offence’ as he said. Miss Bates was very far from offended and thought wistfully how pleasant it might have been to have met so nice a young man as Mr Alver some twenty years previously!

  Arthur was quite pleased to have given Miss Bates plenty to talk about without telling her anything; and left the peas with Patty, the maid, and went on his way whistling.

  The barouche that bowled down the street had him starting in shock losing all desire to whistle any further; or rather one of its occupants did

  “Jupiter!” said Arthur “What the devil is Kitty doing here?”

  Arthur considered a barouche a very slow sort of vehicle to drive; if one wanted a big heavy vehicle, a chaise provided space and relative comfort for the passengers for being enclosed; the idea of a vehicle that had a folding top and not much room for luggage when one might, in his own words, dodge the raindrops with a decent sporting vehicle like a phaeton or a curricle, struck him as insane. However, on perceiving that the equipage was driven by that sober young man Mr Penrose he could perceive that so understated a vehicle would suit that youth’s personality. His sober personality extended to the driving coat that was presently wrapped around Kitty.

  Mr Penrose pulled his vehicle to a stop.

  “Showy horses you have there Penrose,” said Arthur critically, “but I wouldn’t like to wager that the driver isn’t throwing out a splint. What are you doing with my cousin?”

  “Throwing out a splint? Are you certain? I thought the gait was becoming uneven; I was exceedingly glad we were almost here. We are here, aren’t we? Only Kitty wanted to come and find you and Mrs Knightley and Miss Blenkinsop so I agreed, and here we are.”

  “As Aunt Mouser would say, Gadzooks!” said Arthur, “here, Kitty, why are you being a watering pot? Have some control do or you’ll spoil Penrose’s driving coat and it ain’t entirely the thing at the best of times!”

  “Never mind my coat!” said Mr Penrose, “Miss Fairlees has run away from her Aunt er Katherine and I need to know where we’re going.”

  “Here, you climb up with Kit and I’ll take you,” said Arthur, “and then you and I had better retire to Donwell – it’s a stone’s throw from Hartfield where we’re going – and stay with Uncle Gervase; no point us hanging on Cousin Emma’s sleeve. If you don’t stop crying Kitty I’ll put you out and make you walk.”

  “You can’t do that, Alver, it’s my barouche after all!” said Mr Penrose.

  “Well make her stop or I might just show you how well I can,” said Arthur. “Why does Uncle Gervase have to be engaged in a whimsical fit of charity when we need him to sort out whatever bumblebroth of a Cheltenham Tragedy Kitty has got herself into now! Oh stop bridling, Penrose; she’s embroiled me in enough of her fits of the vapours and it usually turns out to be a complete hum! Here we are; and Cowley can see to organising the baggage. If you remembered to bring any. Cowley, Miss Kitty Fairless, who is my cousin, will be staying; Mr Penrose and I will go to stay with my Uncle at Donwell.”

  “Very good, Mr Alver” said Cowley in what he hoped was a colourless voice. Mrs Emma would be wanting to know about this.

  Chapter 33

  “Oh Prudence!” wailed Kitty “I’ve run away from Aunt Mouser because
she wants me to marry someone I don’t want to marry!”

  Prudence, returning from Donwell to find Kitty being ensconced in the parlour by Cowley sat down beside her.

  “Kitty, somehow I doubt that Aunt Mouser is going to force you into marriage if you are against the idea. Have you told her that you are against the idea?”

  Kitty sobbed more.

  “No; she was so keen on the idea and I do not like to go against the wishes of others in case their feelings are hurt!”

  “You are a goose, Kitty,” said Prudence, “Aunt Mouser’s feelings are going to be hurt a good deal more for you running out on her like that! Do you want to marry Mr Penrose?”

  “No! I mean, he is perfectly amiable but I have not the least tendre for him, nor yet for anyone!” declared Kitty. “But he was good enough to offer his aid when he saw me crying.”

  “Then Mr Penrose, who does not in the least wish to be stuck in the country, shall return to London when his horses are rested… or you shall borrow Arthur’s…. And will go to Aunt Mouser with a letter I shall write to her explaining that you are safe at Hartfield and shall remain here until you get over your megrims.”

  “Will Alver let me borrow his team?” asked Mr Penrose doubtfully.

  “To get rid of one more extraneous person I shall so long as you take them to Aunt Mouser and leave them in the care of her chief groom!” said Arthur “Abel knows what he is about! And if that driver of yours IS throwing out a splint, no way you can work the poor creature! Ask Abel to have someone bring them down to me; there’s a likely boy who can stay and help in the stables here.

  You'll just have to hire job horses until yours are healed; and that’s a long business. Whoever sold them to you saw you coming!”

  “I wondered if they were a little young for heavy work,” admitted Mr Penrose.

  “Well come and see Alison; she’s an obliging sort of girl, will rustle you up something to eat before you leave” said Arthur “leave the ladies in peace. Tactful you know.”

  “I had no idea you knew what tact was,” Mr Penrose was saying as they withdrew.

  “Very well Kitty; what is so bad about this suitor that throws you into a pother?” demanded Prudence. Emma came tripping in and sat down on the other side of the weeping girl.

  “His name is Mr Letheridge,” said Kitty “And he’s old! Why he must be as old as Cousin Gervase!”

  “Gervase is not old!” said Prudence “He is two-and-thirty; a most excellent age in a man!”

  “A little too young even,” said Emma, smugly contemplating the thought of her George.

  “Well I think it old!” said Kitty “And he is- is not in the least bit dashing or romantic; he is interested in steam engines, and he took me as a day out to some foundry with Diana and Helen – Helen is eight – and they enjoyed it well enough, well Diana asked enough questions, and I did not.”

  “Why how civil of him to include your little cousins in a day out and find something that they enjoyed!” said Prudence “Did you not suggest Astley’s Amphitheatre or a balloon ascension at Vauxhall?”

  “We did go to Astley’s a previous time, and that was vastly diverting,” admitted Kitty, “oh but Pru! His first name is Meleager!”

  “That is a distinct fault in any man,” agreed Prudence, “but scarcely one that is his fault; not one that he can remedy. Do not his most intimate friends have a shortening or a nickname?”

  “I do not know,” said Kitty crossly, “but Aunt Mouser seems to think it a frivolous reason for making any complaint about him; she laughed at me, so how could I tell her that I did not wish to receive him to make me an offer?”

  “Good grief you dear but silly little pea-goose!” said Prudence, “just because she has agreed to permit him to make you an offer does not mean that she necessarily expects you to accept it! When was he to come?”

  “This afternoon!” cried Kitty.

  “Then he will have found you absent; did you leave a note?”

  “Oh yes!” said Kitty.

  “So Aunt Mouser knows where you were bound?” asked Prudence and groaned as Kitty shook her head.

  “I said I was going to One who would protect me!” she said.

  “You silly girl!” said Emma, “that sounds as though you have eloped with someone you foolish child!”

  Kitty gasped and fainted.

  Emma and Prudence caught each other’s eyes and sighed. Prudence arranged Kitty comfortably on the day bed while Emma went for a vinaigrette to arouse Kitty with its pungent scent.

  Kitty coughed, moaned and sat up.

  “I shall write to Aunt Mouser straight away,” said Prudence, “what a to do; well I doubt that Mr Letheridge will offer for you now, Kitty; such hoydenish behaviour will surely give him a distaste for you…bless the girl she’s off again!”

  Mr Penrose left in short order bearing a note for Aunt Mouser couched in Prudence’s forthright style to the effect that Kitty was safe, chaperoned, wishful to wed nobody, and now she had stopped fainting as sensible as she ever was which was not saying a great deal. Prudence explained that the child had developed the idea that Aunt

  Mouser would force her into marriage and suggested that if Aunt Mouser had the chance to do an ill turn to the girl’s father it would be a good idea, since his seeming treatment of her as goods to be sold must surely have induced this foolish maggot in her head.

  Arthur went over to Donwell to tell Gervase.

  Both Gervase and Prudence were much more sanguine about Kate at least by this time since the fever had broken in the night – Gervase was exhausted and Marsh was with the now sleeping girl – and she seemed likely to live. Once the fever broke there was no likelihood that she was in the least infectious; and Prudence had stripped and changed her sweat-sodden nightdress and she was to sleep from now on indoors under the care of Mrs Hodges overnight. Which being so, Gervase was more inclined to sardonic amusement over Kitty’s latest flight and called it ‘another flight of fancy’.

  Arthur moved in, and declared himself willing to bear a part of checking up on a girl that was no longer infectious, and by jove even if she was, it was less dangerous than the toils of one of Kitty’s embroglios.

  Gervase was inclined to agree.

  Kate should need nothing more than aid with her physical requirements – which Mrs Hodges was more than equal to deal with – and feeding up; and Gervase was ready to step aside from her care and interest himself in the limited social life of Highbury.

  “There’s a whist club at the ‘Crown’,” volunteered Arthur on hearing his uncle’s resolve, “I joined it. Mind, I did say that it was as well that my uncle was too busy to come along or there’d be no point anyone else turning up except that Captain Lord Hornblower fellow.”

  “Hornblower plays a very sound game,” said Gervase, “remarkably cautious though when one considers how reckless his actions often were in his younger days; some have compared him to Nelson.”

  “He was a friend of Uncle Percy, wasn’t he?” asked Arthur.

  “Yes; a good friend,” said Gervase, “took care of young Percy when he was a midshipman. I don’t care what they say about the scandal; he has had plenty of trouble in his life but he’s a kindly man and his wife stands by him. And he needs the whist for his pride because no man on half-pay wants to live on his wife.”

  “I can see that,” said Arthur, “I’m no end grateful that grandfather left enough for father that I have a comfortable competence; and that you invested it wisely for me and pay me a handsome allowance.”

  “Which I shall cut off if you get rusticated again,” said Gervase, “and you may spend some of your leisure in George’s excellent library to make sure that your studies do not suffer.”

  Arthur pulled a face; but did not bother to protest. Uncle Gervase could be a capital fellow when he was being unbending but he was also not to be crossed in his strictures. He gave a shy grin.

  “I say, Uncle Gervase, when you gave me those driving lessons, it has hel
ped me to appreciate you as a person not just a stern guardian; and though I’d not wish to disobey you, I’m no longer scared of you.”

  “I am only sorry that you were afraid of me, Arthur,” said Gervase, “I have been very stern with you; partly it was a nervousness about the responsibility of taking on a stripling; and partly because I feared you might be as sadly unsteady as your father. I loved my big brother Laurence but he was the saddest trial to papa!”

  “That was why you were in such boughs when Kitty persuaded me to run of with her – because papa eloped with mama, did he not?” said Arthur.

  “He did,” said Gervase, “and your papa left his legacy well entailed to pass to you for he was an inveterate gambler; which tendency I am glad to say you appear not to have inherited.”

  “To be honest sir, I find it slow,” said Arthur. “I prefer to be doing something active. I have enjoyed walking the Donwell estate with William Larkins; do you suppose I might train to take over from our own Clitheroe when he retires?”

  “Well if you would like to do that I cannot think of anyone I had rather have to take care of my interests,” said Gervase, “but you would not be able to gallivant off to town.”

  Arthur laughed.

  “Oh town is well enough; and it pleases me to show off how well you have taught me to drive; but I am most awfully contented here, and too I miss Alverston most dreadfully; I do too when I am up at Oxford. I am not cut out to study history and law. Should you mind if I withdrew?”

  “Yes I should,” said Gervase, “George has a good degree; education is never wasted. If you truly love the land, you should concentrate more on the classics to be able to read old documents about land tenancy and changing use of the land; we have a huge amount of unsorted records in the muniment room that I have never got around to sorting.”

  “Well if it is to be for a purpose I suppose it is worth working on,” said Arthur. “Classics for the sake of the classics has always been dull.”