Cousin Prudence

by Waldock, Sarah

  me as much as wasting a dozen in retying new ones because it does not go right.”

  “A dozen? TWO dozen I assure you!” declared Mr Devereaux.

  “Well no wonder you take so long if you can’t tie a neckcloth without making a bumblebroth of it,” said Gervase rudely, “if you’d taken so long in the morning at Eton, old Shanky would have had you standing for your meals for a month! I prefer to have practised to make the action one of perfection from the first fold.”

  “There are several not very pretty words for people like you,” said Mr Devereaux darkly.

  Gervase laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.

  “And you have a hot bath waiting because I hired an army of villagers just to run hot water up and down stairs for my guests,” he said. “I expect they’ll take every opportunity to stare at you; they’re staying all night. There’ll be plenty of utensils to empty over the evening; I wish that George had fitted Bramah’s patent water closets as Mr Woodhouse has done. I must speak to him about it if I am to make this a house I spend much time in.”

  “You have an unwholesome interest in drains Ger,” said Mr Devereaux, “always have had. I remember nearly getting stuck in that culvert when we were escaping after scrumping.”

  “Well you did not end up stuck; it had to be better than a beating,” said Gervase, “damn, I’m not surprised we resorted to scrumping; the food was awful and never quite enough. I gather that's improved.”

  “Had need,” said Mr Devereaux gloomily, “and then you would talk to those sappers in the Peninsular!”

  “It isn’t only water that flows down hill,” said Gervase, “and if I hadn’t known how to construct a covered drain I wager we’d have had more down with disease after Badajos in our unit than we did; the bad miasmas of the smell from open drains carry diseases.”

  “Well I concede that you put your unnatural interests to good use,” said Mr Devereaux, “though I’ve never actually figured out why you joined the Light Bobs in the first place; I mean, I wanted to join up but £800 was a bit of a squeeze for m’parents to buy me a pair of colours in the hussars, with m’sister coming out too; so the Rifles it was. And it’s the same sort of story for most of the chaps, though Beetle’s been left a fortune by his black sheep nabob uncle in India. But you, you’re a regular Croesus!”

  “I don’t like gaudy uniforms,” said Gervase, “and I did like the idea of promotion on merit rather than purchasing a promotion. The Rifle Brigade is the only regiment that trains the men to individual initiative, rather than trying to crush it out of them; and I had heard this enthusiastic rifle officer on the subject while I was considering joining up. When I took on Marsh that confirmed my decision; an ex poacher was just perfect. I ride too heavy for the cavalry in any case so I had rather do something interesting. Besides, I’ve always been a good shot; and as a clincher you and Beetle had fixed on it; so there you are.”

  “Marsh was brilliant out there in the field,” said Mr Devereaux, “though I lost count of the number of times he was promoted to sergeant and then demoted again for doing something outrageous! Do you remember how he and half the platoon were caught comforting the lightskirts the frogs had brought with them and then left behind when we rompéd them?”

  “Only too well,” said Gervase, “I also recall that he wrote new and scurrilous words to the tune of Ca Ira and taught them to sing them.”

  “By Jove yes… filthy lyrics!” said Mr Devereaux in awed recollection, “what he suggested happened to the Colonel of the time and his wife was quite, er, original!”

  “I thrashed him for that,” said Gervase, “respect to a lady and all that; even if she was an asset to Boney for her misuse of the troops to do her chores.”

  “He didn’t last long though,” said Mr Devereaux, “the Colonel I mean; I think he thought if he transferred to a less prestigious regiment but with a promotion he’d be able to swan about like any other colonel, not actually be expected to fight. Mind, I never asked if the ball he died off came from in front or behind.”

  “None of us quite cared to,” said Gervase, “he was a poltroon; one of those who in normal line regiments relies on an adjutant to make him look good by having the mathematical eye to judge the square. You could have gone that route, Aesop; become an adjutant and relied on making your Colonel look good enough that he rewarded you by giving you promotion without having to buy it. It happens all the time; which means that the poor but able at least end up as mid rank officers and are therefore the ones who do all the work.”

  “Cynic,” said Mr Devereaux, “don’t say you’re wrong mind. Why did you never buy yourself up to Colonel?”

  “All that paperwork? I can have enough of that running my own estates, thank you,” said Gervase, “I was in it for the fun, not to push paper around and have to do a job of soldiering. You’re letting your bath water get cold.”

  “So I am,” said Mr Devereaux cheerfully, and left to begin the serious business of preparing for the ball, his valet waiting for him with thirty ironed neckcloths ready in case his primary efforts should fail him.

  Gervase chuckled and went to write the formal letter necessary to the papers to announce his betrothal; and when that was published then the arrangement became legally binding.

  He walked over to Hartfield to snatch a moment with his betrothed before posting the letter, hoping that she was not yet engaged in dressing.

  Prudence was available; she had no expectation of taking more than an hour to dress.

  “I was about to post the announcement of out betrothal,” he said abruptly, “and I thought I ought to give you the option to have last minute nerves and back out.”

  “I want to ask about a prenuptial agreement,” said Prudence, “I am wealthy; I have no objection to that being available to you to use on your lands but I would wish you to set up a legal agreement whereby I have control of some at least of my own money and the ability to draw on the bank at need. I am no society widgeon with more hair than wit likely to run up fantastic debts. Papa taught me to keep accounts as soon as I could read and write fluently. And the same goes for my inheritance when papa does die.”

  Gervase nodded.

  “It is an excellent notion; and no less than I would expect of you, my love. I do not wish to treat you in any respect as a chattel; after all, one of my ancestress ran the estates and made hard headed business deals whilst her husband was away in France during the hundred years war; medieval women had a lot more expected of them. It’s said that after the wars she actually managed to cut a wheedle of some kind to flim-flam Edward IV over his harsh wool duties.”

  “What an excellent woman!” said Prudence “Let us name our first daughter after her.”

  Chapter 42

  The Ball promised to be the most glittering occasion that Highbury had ever seen.

  All the local notables were there; indeed half the gentry of the downs of Surrey had travelled to be a part of it. Those normally staying for the season in London were already there, ‘Aesop’ Devereaux foremost of Gervase’s friends, along with Charles Bugge, familiarly known as Beetle, great-grandson of a duke and who had had very few expectations until left a fortune by an uncle who had been packed off to India for unspecified indiscretions and who had put his nephew in his will as ‘the only member of my family who was civil to me’. Mr Bugge had gone from hanging out for a wife with a decent competence to running from mamas with beautiful but impoverished daughters which he took with cheerful philosophy since at least he could muster out without having to wonder where the next meal was coming from rather than blessing even half-pay as a guaranteed income.

  Mr Bugge had been the instigator, it may be said, of most of the mischief the three lifelong friends had got into; and found a natural ally in young Diana who listened awestruck to tales of their schooldays. It was perhaps just as well that Miss Henderson thought that Diana was with her mother, watching her dress; and Georgiana was under the impression that Diana was in the schoolroom with Miss
Henderson. That she was handing neckties to a gentleman and listening with bated breath to tales of his, and her uncle’s childhood exploits would have horrified both, Miss Henderson over Diana being in a man’s bedroom and Georgiana that she was gaining too much knowledge about Gervase’s schooldays that might be put to use. Since both were in blissful ignorance and Mr Bugge innocently entertaining the niece of a friend who was unfortunate enough to have been born a girl, nobody took any immediate harm from the occurrence; though it may be said that Diana had enough ideas for mischief to

  keep her plotting for a very long time.

  The Hartfield party came early; Emma as duenna for Prudence and hostess, George as co-host, Ephraim Blenkinsop as father of the bride-to-be and Prudence to be presented as the betrothed wife of the Marquess of Alverston.

  Mr Woodhouse had pleaded his health for so strenuous an activity of a ball and was to stay at home. John and Isabella were there however, because tempting as Isabella may have found it to cry off, a ball at Donwell was more of an attraction than a quiet night at home.

  There was a room for the visiting ladies to retire to, in order to leave pelisses and smarten up their appearance, which they might feel the need to do during the evening; there were an abundance of mirrors for this purpose. An antechamber had convenient screens surrounding close-stools for other comforts and bowls of water, changed continuously by servants to wash hands and faces, hot water in one bowl, cold in another to cool the face. No convenience had been neglected! Prudence slipped a vail to the serving girl who took her pelisse and showed her the antechamber; the hirelings for this night might reasonably be expected to make three times as much as they were being paid in vails and gratuities for the small services they offered if they were astute enough. And Prudence was looking forward to what was, essentially, her own ball! She kissed Aunt Mouser on the cheek when she went down and found her, and Georgie too and settled down to look forward to enjoying herself!

  She knew that she was looking her best; she wore the gold muslin that she had bought in Bond street that had been made up by now, cut very simply and hanging from a white silk bodice embroidered in white and gold, with puff sleeves matching the bodice over long sleeves cut from the muslin. The same silk formed an underskirt and white silk ribbon roses ran all around the bottom of the skirt. She wore her pearls with it and the betrothal ring

  that Gervase had given her when he had met her at Hartfield; and she smiled to herself over his lack of social graces when he was moved, for he had but thrust a box into her hand before he strode away, leaving her to discover the beautiful emerald ring and the scrawled note ‘it matches your eyes’. She felt very self conscious wearing it, and kept glancing down to where it glittered over her white glove.

  Prudence was to greet the guests alongside Gervase with George and Emma next; and she felt a trifle nervous. She was somewhat angered when the wife of one of the officers invited by Gervase said,

  “Why, I am agreeably surprised; for a provincial, you manage a high degree of alamodality!”

  “Why thank you,” said Prudence, “for a vulgarian your voice is remarkably cultured.”

  The woman gasped; and Prudence smiled brightly. Gervase was greeting the woman’s husband; neither of the men had noticed the little exchange.

  “Well you are a virago,” said the woman.

  “Thank you,” said Prudence for all the world as though she had been offered a high compliment. “I am given to understand that officers of the 95th prefer their women to be cultured, spirited and intelligent; I take it that your husband was not a Rifleman?”

  “No; my husband is of the –th Hussars,” said she.

  It was only after she had finished greeting everyone and had been procured a glass of lemonade by her husband that the woman actually realised just exactly how much Prudence had insulted her.

  Prudence saw the gasp and the moment of revelation and was satisfied.

  There was no point insulting someone if they never realised after all.

  The Westons arrived quite early, with Frank and Jane Churchill to introduce. Prudence though Jane Churchill looked low in spirits; but there was little she might do at a ball. George looked cynical; and Prudence recalled that he

  did not like Mr Frank Churchill. Well, if it was the case that Miss Fairfax had chosen to love too well and unwisely there was nothing that might be done about it.

  Save perhaps to invite her to stay from time to time as a holiday from her husband.

  She would cultivate Mrs Churchill, for Cousin George described her as amiable and cultured and accomplished.

  Mr and Mrs Robert Martin also arrived in good time and Emma introduced Prudence to her dear friend Harriet, who professed herself honoured.

  “Oh the honour is all mine to meet a friend of Cousin Emma’s,” said Prudence,

  “I believe you are the couple that Cousin George has mentioned as using the summerhouse to grow strawberries as he is; Gervase had had to run around procuring glass for his crops. My dear Mrs Martin, let us get acquainted and discuss literary matters, for Emma tells me you love books as much as I do; for our menfolk will doubtless be shortly engaged in farming talk!”

  In this guess she was not far out; but Harriet Martin was very pleased to have another woman who was as well read as she!

  It might be mentioned that Robert Martin later said to his wife that Miss Blenkinsop was a sensible sort of girl and His Lordship every inch a real gentleman with no unnecessary starch to him, and a knowledgeable farmer too.

  Kitty Fairlees was attempting, having had part of a London season, to look as though such things as balls filled her with fashionable ennui; she was not entirely succeeding. Cousin Gervase was famed for the lavish and complete nature of the few entertainments that he gave; and though flowers were somewhat in abeyance in this cold summer, there was ample greenery, and the flowers that there were flowering out of season, graceful narcissi

  that grew in abundance about the grassy banks of Donwell. The pale gold and green was a graceful theme and suitably romantic, thought Kitty, for a betrothal assembly. She hid the fact that she had turned to stare at a particularly graceful flower arrangement to seem to be turning to hide a yawn behind her hand.

  One did not wish the likes of Miss Emily Rawlinson and Miss Henrietta Potts to think that she was entranced like a county girl.

  She stared to see Mr Letheridge come in and bow to his host; and turned a little pale. His eyes swept the room and passed over Kitty. Kitty was hardly sure if she were relieved or piqued! She told herself firmly that she was relieved; it would be embarrassing to turn him down if he asked her to dance. It might also have been nice to have had that option.

  He was chatting now to Emma Knightley, who was bringing him towards the group from Mrs Goddard’s school; surely Emma would not ask him to dance with her? She could hardly refuse it if Emma suggested it! Kitty was pale. But Emma merely smiled and nodded to her, presenting him to one of her fellows.

  “This is, Mr Letheridge, Miss Potts; I believe Miss Rawlinson has already engaged herself a partner for the first dance so perhaps I may present you to each other? Miss Potts, Mr Letheridge; Mr Letheridge, Miss Potts,” Emma effected the introduction and turned to Kitty. “Kitty I wish you will stand up with Arthur for the first dance; he’s eschewing women and dancing with his cousin emphasises that he’s not looking for any matrimonial hopes.”

  “Arthur eschewing women? Emma, that’s nonsensical! He’s always falling in love!” said Kitty.

  “Apparently he has seen the error of his ways and plans to live a bachelor life,” said Emma, “and you know he will surely change his mind as well as I do; but I pray you to indulge his whim for the nonce. And try to persuade him

  not to grow his hair again; whoever heard of anyone with such pretty curls being Byronesque?”

  Kitty giggled.

  “Is that his ambition?” she asked.

  “Well he has been inspired by our entirely spurious pirate ancestor, with whom dea
r Mr Knightley and Cousin Gervase have been amusing the children with outrageous stories and an equally spurious treasure map, to write a poem after the style of the Corsair. Apparently it is George’s fault for encouraging him to write poetry in the first place and Arthur liking the imagery of Byron’s line ‘There was a laughing devil in his sneer’ which he says suits Cousin Gervase to a ‘T’ but which he would like to emulate, and you bad girl you are not to laugh at the poor boy!”

  “I’m s-s-sorry,” spluttered Kitty, “Arthur as the Corsair! Doing it too brown!”

  “Well yes, so thought I; but I am kind enough to be tactful about it,” said Emma, “he is struggling in the toils of heroic quatrains in iambic pentameter; and one day he shall read it to his children as humorous verse no doubt. And unless he volunteers to tell you about it, my girl, you have never heard about it!”

  “Oh I shan’t say a word!” said Kitty, “I should be afraid of giggling if I did,” she added honestly.

  “Good girl,” said Emma who had endured having to remain straight faced while Arthur read to one he still admired more than any woman he had ever known, even though it was perhaps more the admiration for a much beloved aunt now, than the adoring lover.

  And when she bethought the lines –

  “The pirate stood upon the wooden deck

  he waved his sword and gave an awful snarl

  he cried ‘I’m going to chop you at the neck

  you are a cowardly cur you sniv’lling carl!”

  – she found it hard not to laugh out loud. Really, Arthur was more like little Henry in his excitement over pirates than in any way like Lord Byron, who was for all his supposed romantic appeal so deeply in debt that he had, like Beau Brummell, been forced to flee the country though certain other scandals of a most particularly unpleasant nature had probably contributed to his choice to leave. Moreover Lord Byron was outspoken against mechanisation; and Prudence considered him a silly little man.

  The couples formed up for the first country dance; Gervase and Prudence were to lead off, and though strict precedence decreed Lord Greyling and Georgiana next, the precedence went to Emma and George as hostess and secondary host. It would be quite a long set with the number of couples to traverse the length of it; but it would give the couples a chance to chat to their partners to break the ice; for which reason a simple figure had been chosen. Next was to be an Allemand which required much more passing of hand to hand and concentration; and Gervase handed Prudence to George and solicited the honour of a dance with Emma for, as he said to George, an Allemand with too much disparity of height left the gentleman in a cursed embarrassing position getting stuck going under his lady’s arm and afraid of tripping into her décolletage. The evening was going very well; though not all those invited had turned up.