Cousin Prudence

by Waldock, Sarah

  How much Emma had learned! Her desire to matchmake for those of whom she was fond had given way to a more sophisticated understanding of the heart, that could see that this sober and adoring man would make Kitty a kind and loving husband! And yet she realised that though Kitty might be able to be led it would be the merits of Mr Letheridge himself that must speak to her, not any third party singing his praises!

  Mr Letheridge changed colour several times; and he seized Emma’s hand shaking it warmly as though she were a gentleman friend.

  “Mrs Knightley you bring me hope and determination!” he cried “And I shall indeed do as you suggest!” he glanced down at where he held her hand “Oh, I do beg your pardon,” he said, letting go and flushing.

  “Readily granted, Mr Letheridge; I know what it is to be in love and to fear that one’s regard is not returned,” said Emma, flushing slightly, “and I hope that all may be resolved between you and Kitty. But if I may give some advice?”

  He nodded.

  “If you will please,” he said. Emma smiled.

  “Then as Kitty is to spend some time in Mrs Goddard’s excellent school in the village, whose older pupils will all attend the ball, you should be seen by Kitty to honour your promise to be no more than a friend to her by dancing exactly as often with the other young ladies as with her,” she said.

  “Mrs Knightley, you have the wisdom of the serpent!” declared Mr Letheridge, kissing Emma’s hand with a flourish.

  He left with quite a spring in his step.

  “Emma are you interfering?” asked George, coming out into the hall.

  “Only a little,” said Emma, “he seems such a – a nice man; it is an inadequate adjective but so suited to him. I told him not to give up hope but to stand back and not to single her out; and see if she might learn to love him. That is not so very bad is it George?”

  George sighed and laughed and kissed his wife tenderly.

  “Ah, my Emma, you are an incurable romantic; but you have I think reached an age of discretion whereby you may be trusted to interfere with out my interference in your interference; and I apologise for doubting you.”

  “Is it so wrong, when I am so happy, to wish to see others happy too?” asked Emma.

  “Oh not in the least, my dear Mrs Knightley,” said George, “just so long as you do not interrupt the steady flow of romance that may proceed of its own accord with some mad fit and start; or make matches between those who are not, and should not be, already attracted. To permit Kitty to come to know Mr Letheridge in a more informal fashion and see him outside of the glittering world of the season – or even on a visit to some foundry – will give her a better idea of whether or not she retains a distaste for Mr Letheridge or whether he distinguishes

  himself in her eyes. You have done all that is necessary; no more is needed.”

  “Yes George,” said Emma, “why was he such a clunch as to take her to a foundry?”

  “I expect,” said George, “It was Diana’s idea. And you must admit, Prudence would probably take it as a high treat if Alverston took her.”

  “Yes, but Prudence is like that,” said Emma. “Why are we talking in a cold hall, George? I believe I need warming up.”

  “Why, Mrs Knightley!” said George “I do believe that your condition has made you more demanding than ever!”

  “Why Mr Knightley!” said Emma “I do believe you are correct!”

  They retired elsewhere to discuss or at least explore this curious phenomenon.

  Mr Letheridge duly retired to The Crown where he was visited by Gervase whose advice was pithier, earthier, but generally along the same lines as Emma’s save that Gervase presumed upon Mr Letheridge having been in the same Regiment for a year or two as his brother Everard in order to be forthright.

  “I love Kitty dearly when I do not want to strangle her!” declared Gervase, “no, do not look at me daggers-drawn my dear fellow; she is like a much younger sister to me. And I should like to see her established with a steady fellow not take one of her flights of fancy and flee with a romantic-seeming idiot with nothing between the ears who will not properly care for and cherish her! She needs a man of the world who will see that she wants for nothing and does not have to experience any of the hardships in life.”

  “You are not in love with her yourself?” asked Mr Letheridge suspiciously.

  “Good grief, no!” said Gervase, “my intended is a young lady who so far from fearing the hardships of life is like to drag me into rescuing others from them! I have not time to give Kitty the care and attention that she needs; I

  need a wife who will work hard beside me to help my tenants and dependants through the hard times that are to be ahead with this abnormal weather and its attendant woes! I doubt Kitty has even any idea how it may affect life save that she may not have as many peaches to eat; and would not comprehend the hardship it will bring to the poorest! And she would be too overset by the thought is she were enlightened to be of much use to them anyway,” he added, “and whilst I have gone so far as to mention peaches, you should not let her gorge on them; Kitty is a glutton for peaches and has given herself a colick from over-indulgence before.”

  “Oh my poor darling!” cried Mr Letheridge.

  Gervase considered him a hopeless case; but at least not so unrealistic as to declare that such a thing as Kitty gorging herself into a colick could not be so.

  He sighed and left Letheridge to it.

  Chapter 36

  Since Mr Woodhouse was fully up and about now, Gervase came to call on him formally; and Mr Woodhouse was much impressed by his height and breadth of shoulders.

  “My Lord, you are a fine set up young man! Fine indeed! Now I perceive more readily that you might dare the risks of contagion that a less fine looking specimen of manhood must eschew!” said Mr Woodhouse. “Really I am quite filled with envy! But I hear you have had typhus and yet recovered from it?”

  “Indeed sir; and I think that this makes me immune after the fashion of those inoculated by Jenner,” said Gervase, “though of course I would not come near you until all danger was passed and until you were stronger also; and a sad way for the contagion to be ended in the village.”

  “Indeed yes!” said Mr Woodhouse, “poor Mrs Fellowes! She was my laundress you know; until Emma stopped sending our laundry to her for fear of infection. Fellowes was sadly unsteady.”

  George was heard by his wife to murmur to his brother,

  “And the sea is damp.”

  Emma frowned at both husband and brother-in-law.

  “You are aware of course that I shall be announcing my betrothal to Prudence shortly,” said Gervase.

  “Alas! Yes! Poor Prudence!” said Mr Woodhouse “The sadness of the state of matrimony is a reflection on the misery of the human condition!”

  Gervase blinked.

  “Papa holds the state of matrimony in aversion,” said Emma, “I can but wonder how he brought himself to offer for mama! I however am quite content in the state, and I am sure Prudence will find herself contented too.”

  “Oh I have heard all about you from Prudence, my dear Lord Alverston,” said Mr Woodhouse, “and I could not ask for a finer man to become my nephew save for George and John who have become my sons; but I pray you, let poor Prudence wait before embarking upon a family; it is so sad to hear of a young bride who is swiftly in the family way and tethered to children.”

  “Papa I adore my children!” interposed Isabella, for once rebelling against agreeing with her father’s every word. “I would not be without them!”

  “And I too agree that children are a blessing!” said Emma firmly.

  “Ah! My poor girls! How they put a brave face on it!” said Mr Woodhouse.

  Had Gervase not been warned about both the valetudinarian habits of Mr Woodhouse and his insistence on pitying even those who required no pity at all, he would have been much taken aback; but he murmured merely that he would attempt to be a model husband.

  “And so under
standing!” said Mr Woodhouse “One who is used to the best in life who is prepared to nurture the poor waif of a mill hand; poor Prudence; I was so relieved that she at least had shoes to her feet when she came to us.”

  “But sir! Her father’s a very nabob!” said Alverston, startled.

  “Oh my dear sir! You cannot have got that false impression from dear Prudence; she is my sister’s child. Poor Lizzie, such an unfortunate marriage!”

  “I got the impression, Mr Woodhouse,” said Gervase, “from meeting Mr Blenkinsop, who is an extremely warm man indeed as a wealthy mill owner.”

  “As, dear papa, I did try to advise you,” said George.

  “But…. You mean he has a respectable fortune?” said Mr Woodhouse “Why, poor Prudence! You did not make this clear, George, or I should never have countenanced my poor niece going to London to risk falling in with a fortune hunter!”

  “Fortunately, sir, she had already fallen in with me and I determined to seek her out,” said Alverston, “as so far as my fortune is concerned I could take care of her if she were a mill wench; but may I say how proper and how delicate is your feeling to realise that a mill hand’s daughter would indeed find supporting the position of a Marchioness a difficult matter. And for that I do truly appreciate your fondness for your niece.”

  Henry Woodhouse was put out to be told by one who had met Mr Blenkinsop that he was far from being as he had imagined; but was mollified by the proper recognition of his motives by the Marquess.

  He shook his head.

  “Even so it will be hard for her,” he said gloomily.

  Gervase smiled at him with determination.

  “That is why I am so pleased that she is such a close friend of my sister Georgiana who will help her through any small trials,” he said, “and I shall be inviting Georgie and her husband and offspring to stay to meet my bride’s family and to come to the ball. Mrs George Knightley has given my sister – who likes her very well indeed – the enthusiasm to compare notes with Mrs John Knightley about their respective offspring; as I understand it her younger children are of an age with your older ones, Mrs Knightley.”

  Isabella looked pleased.

  “Oh, then that sounds quite delightful!” she said, “there are so few others ready to enter into the feelings of a mother; George plays sometimes rather roughly with the children; though perhaps now he is to be a father himself he will be tenderer with his own.”

  “I should think I do not intend to mollycoddle any children Emma and I have,” said George firmly, “they like to be thrown up; it does them no harm.”

  “Why indeed; so too do I throw up my nieces and nephews, at least those small enough to enjoy it,” said Gervase, “but I have fallen into eclipse with Diana I fear.”

  “What, you would not take her on Trevithick’s circular railway?” asked George.

  “I never thought of that…it’s an idea. No, she wanted me to teach her to drive unicorn of all things. She wrote and asked and I returned a letter that I would not and she has accused me of being an unnatural uncle. Unicorn indeed!”

  “I pray you, Cousin Gervase, what is that?” asked Emma.

  “It is to drive with three horses; one ahead and two behind, the second one behind not harnessed to the shaft but by traces only. It is a prodigiously difficult skill; one of which I am capable, but not one for a maiden of just twelve summers; nor even, as I have told my nephew Arthur one for a youth of just nineteen years.”

  “I should rather think not!” said Emma. “She is teasing you Cousin Gervase; and wants you to tempt her out of the sullens with what she really wants.”

  “Oh do you think so?” asked Gervase.

  “Well it is what I used to do to wheedle things out of George when he was a family friend and I was just a little girl,” said Emma, peeping sideways at George.

  “And I fell for it every time,” said George.

  On due consideration, Gervase decided to announce the ball as his engagement ball; and wrote to Georgiana and Aunt Mouser to repair to Donwell and to Mr Blenkinsop, who might post down rapidly if he wished to attend. The matter would be out soon enough; and it was as well to make it official.

  On further consideration he also wrote to his other sisters who would be less likely to abandon their families to attend a ball and who would write him almost identical letters scolding him for not giving them any intimation of his intent earlier, demanding to know all about the girl he wanted to marry and managing, doubtless in one sentence, to applaud the fact that he was doing his duty by his family

  and deplore the fact that it was in what they would describe as a hole-in-the-corner fashion.

  He intended to reply, when those letters came, recommending that they ask Georgie about it.

  They would do so in any case and it would save him the trouble.

  That the Ball, two weeks hence, was to be a betrothal ball set the village by its ears! That the Marquess should wish to introduce his bride here seemed odd, but very exciting! There was much speculation about who she might be, and what she might look like; Miss Bates had a field day!

  Mr Weston, who had taken to Gervase more than he had expected when Gervase began to lend his presence to the Whist Club, asked tentatively if there would be the possibility that his son and daughter-in-law, who were to be anticipated visitors at Randalls, might come to the ball; and Gervase promised that he would see to issuing them invitations.

  George declared cynically to Gervase that Mr Frank Weston Churchill’s interest in visiting his father and stepmother probably stemmed from the moment a letter arrived telling them that a Marquess was staying at Donwell.

  “Jane Churchill however is a very pretty behaved young woman of considerable accomplishment,” he said, “although a little reserved. You will not regret inviting her; and Frank Churchill is an excellent guest at any function; perfectly charming and able to be readily at ease in any society.”

  “George, you really dislike him,” said Gervase.

  “I have never liked him,” said George, “I consider him affected and able to use charm to get his own way; and he has learned to manipulate from his aunt, who raised him, who used her illness to control both her husband and her

  nephew. He also used Emma, leading her to believe he had a partiality for her when he was hiding his secret betrothal to Jane. I cannot like him in any way; he is devious.”

  “Ah well, at least he is safely married and not likely therefore to try to fix an interest with Kitty,” said Gervase.

  “I will say this for him; he is not a fortune hunter,” said George, “Jane was quite penniless; and expecting to have to be a governess. He was attracted to her for her cleverness and musical ability I believe; though I doubt the attraction would have been so strong had he not been well enough off from his aunt’s and uncle’s fortune.”

  The society of Highbury were not about to let a Noble Lord pass through their midst without some other means to try to get to know him before this famous ball should come about; and George Knightley was much bombarded with questions about Lord Alverston that he mostly answered with a laugh and a light comment to the effect that their shared interests were farming and any man of knowledge of such might readily engage His Lordship in conversation.

  Mr Cole, who knew nothing of farming, felt it behoved him to call upon His Lordship and shyly asked if it would be presumptuous to invite Lord Alverston to dine.

  In the city it would have been presumptuous; though Gervase, being rag mannered in the superficial sense but full of fine courtesy in such matters as were important, would have discouraged the presumption but gently. At Highbury, the Coles were at least half-gentlefolk for their manner of living and acceptance by society; and Gervase replied that he would be delighted to attend any dinner that Mr Cole was kind enough to invite him to.

  Mr Cole, delighted, also asked the Hartfield residents assuring Mr Woodhouse that the screen that he had procured from London would ensure that Mr Woodhouse would suffer no draughts and tha
t the evening would not be late to keep him out in the fog.

  Mr Woodhouse, who was better enough to feel that a change of scene might be pleasant, despite the dangers of going out initially demurred with the usual comments that to leave the safety of his own fireside might be dangerous to his health. Mr Woodhouse had refused the previous invitation in spite of the screen the Coles had sent to London for; but George prevailed upon him this time to accept, promising to see that he have a hot brick at his feet to drive over to the Coles, because to drive even so short a distance would be safer for him; and that George would see to it that the brick was kept warm by the Coles’ servants to see Mr Woodhouse back home safely.

  “Dear George, you are as good to me as if you were my son,” said Mr Woodhouse, moved too by George’s comment that as the Coles had gone to the trouble and expense of getting a screen just for Mr Woodhouse’ comfort it would be unmannerly to turn down a second invitation.

  “Cole is a good man,” said John, “and a generous one to extend a second invitation.”

  “Ah, but the poor man is bilious; he understands what it is to be under the weather,” said Mr Woodhouse, “Poor Mr Cole! and it will be a nice party to be together as a family with friends; after this ball when poor Prudence is irrevocably betrothed to Lord Alverston I cannot help thinking that we shall be on the brink of losing her to the distressing state of matrimony! How wise is Miss Fairlees to wish to eschew it!”

  “Now papa, I am very happy in the state of matrimony,” said Emma.

  Mr Woodhouse sighed.

  “But look what it has led to!” he declared “Poor Emma, with child, and not married a year!”

  And nothing would shift him from this opinion.

  Mr Alver had been invited to dine at the Cole’s as well since it would have been impolite to include his lordship