“Why would you say that?”
“I doubt I would be well received for slapping the face of anyone so insipid as to react in such a way,” Prudence responded. “What milksops do you surround yourself with?”
“Oh, there are many, believe me,” Fitzwilliam said with meaning in his tone.
“What a sorry state of affairs. You are more likely to get into a quake if you don’t finish Aunt Catherine’s shopping, than I will.”
“You will not get any argument from me about that!” Fitzwilliam responded.
They spent the next few hours in easy companionship as they walked the length and breadth of the main shopping street, which surrounded a pretty green. It was a busy small town, supplying many of the villages surrounding it, which made it a vibrant place.
When they finished shopping, Fitzwilliam insisted they stop at one of the Black Eagle Brewery Inns and secure a private room in which to refresh themselves.
“They brew a fine ale. Darcy and myself have been coming here for years,” Fitzwilliam assured her, taking off his hat and gloves. Laying his greatcoat over a chair, he walked to the fire. “It is mild for the time of year, but the cold eventually seeps in. Come near the fire, Cousin. I shan’t be letting you get chilled as I did in the garden.”
Prudence did as she was bid. She had taken off her bonnet and gloves, welcoming the warmth of the fire. “We should make haste to return, for the night will close in on us.”
“It will, but I shall hire us a coach. I should have thought it through before we set out. It will be too chilly, returning in the gig. I will collect it tomorrow.”
“I hope you travel early. I would not wish Anne to miss her morning trip out.”
“You’re a hard task master. I am only usually below stairs so early at Rosings because of the early hours Aunt Catherine keeps. You’d have me rising with the lark!”
“It is character building. Where I come from, the knocker upper would make sure you rose at the appointed time.”
“Even the name sends me into shudders,” Fitzwilliam responded.
“You poor, spoilt boy,” Prudence laughed. “I would like to see you work in a mill for a week. You’d be eaten alive.”
“No doubt.” Fitzwilliam smiled. “Although you’ve survived and are still a genteel lady.” There was so much about Prudence that didn’t quite add up in Fitzwilliam’s mind.
“I have had advantages that most workers do not have,” Prudence admitted.
“One is the quality of your clothes. You always look exquisite,” Fitzwilliam said.
Blushing, Prudence smiled. “My mother had good taste and only went to the finest people when she needed clothing. I suppose it was what she’d been used to, and Papa always liked her looking her best. He has just transferred that wish onto me, so I benefit. There are some talented seamstresses in Manchester. Not everyone dresses in sackcloth.”
“I would never have supposed it for a moment,” Fitzwilliam defended himself.
“Aunt Catherine does.”
“Thankfully, Aunt Catherine’s views are about as far away from mine as is possible. I shall secure a carriage before we sit down to eat.”
When Fitzwilliam left the room, Prudence cursed herself silently. She’d had the perfect opportunity to reveal herself to him. Why hadn’t she? There was no need to tell him everything, just enough for him to realise that she had no need to take up a post her aunt had threatened to find for her. Instead, she’d taken the cowardly way out. Again.
Fitzwilliam soon came back, and the banter continued between the pair. When they were leaving the inn, Fitzwilliam offered his arm and helped Prudence into the carriage. He accepted two hot bricks and placed them at her feet.
“I insist you have one of these,” Prudence said, using her booted foot to push one of the bricks towards Fitzwilliam. “I am not the type of female who will make others suffer whilst she sits in comfort.”
“Thank you, but I don’t know how you will deal with the fact that there’s only one blanket to cover your knees,” Fitzwilliam smiled at her.
“In that case, sit next to me, and we will share,” Prudence said, wriggling sideways so there was room enough for him to join her on the seat.
Fitzwilliam didn’t need to be asked twice. He moved seats and let Prudence fix the blanket across both their laps.
“There. We shall both be comfortable, and I won’t feel guilty,” Prudence said with a smile.
“I would be more comfortable if I did this,” Fitzwilliam said, reaching out for her hand and bringing it to his lips.
Prudence eyed him. “And what have I done to warrant such a gesture?”
“Oh, you’ve been funny, beautiful, and lovely ever since my arrival at Rosings,” Fitzwilliam admitted.
“Thank you, but I have to suggest your eyes are faulty and you are easily pleased.”
Laughing, Fitzwilliam kissed her hand again. “You are a delight.” The mood suddenly changed. It was as if they were back in the stable yard, but this time there was no one else around.
“If you are going to kiss me, Fitzwilliam, please do it now,” Prudence said. “I would hate a sudden unexpected stop of the carriage to prevent it.”
With a chuckle, Fitzwilliam pulled her to him, and not a moment too soon in both their opinions, kissed her soundly.
Her bonnet and his stove top hat landed on the floor. Arms wrapped around waists and necks, and Prudence was pulled onto Fitzwilliam’s lap. Grabbing handfuls of his hair, she revelled in the feel of it, something she’d been wishing to do for days.
Fitzwilliam moaned at Prudence’s actions but forced himself to pull away slightly. Cupping her face in his hands, he smiled into eyes that were wide and unfocused.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long. I did not know what it was like to ache for someone, but I know now.”
“I’ve felt the same,” Prudence said quietly.
“May I continue to kiss you? I will stop if you want me to.”
Prudence groaned and pulled him to her lips. Laughing and wrapping his arms around her waist once more, he quietly proceeded to make it the most enjoyable carriage ride either had ever shared.
If the coachman noticed slightly dishevelled passengers alighting from the carriage, it was nothing new to him. If the butler noticed the flushed cheeks of Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Prudence, he wouldn’t mention it to any other member of staff, old romantic that he was.
As a result, both Fitzwilliam and Prudence reached their respective bedchambers, one flopping against the door, the other onto her bed, both experiencing jubilant but confusing emotions at their day out.
*
Walking through the long gallery the following morning, Prudence was grabbed from behind and swung around until she was facing Fitzwilliam.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Fitzwilliam said, landing a kiss on her lips. “How are you this fine morning?”
Prudence laughed and snaked her arms around his neck. “All the better for seeing you. Although I should ask if you regularly accost young women when they least expect it?”
“Only the ones who fill my dreams with their kisses.”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam, you do say the sweetest things,” Prudence groaned.
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Fitzwilliam answered, kissing her again.
Putting her hands on his chest to stay him, Prudence shook her head at him. “We cannot do this.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll be thrown out if we are discovered.”
“I’ll follow you.”
“You are nonsensical sometimes,” Prudence laughed at him.
“I want to experience as many of your kisses as possible. Is that wrong?”
“I’m no lightskirt,” Prudence said, a little cruelly because she knew without doubt Fitzwilliam would not be so disrespectful towards her, but it had to be said.
Fitzwilliam stepped back. “Is that what you think I’m trying to do? Offer you a carte blanche?”
“I just wanted to make it clear that I’m not a woman of easy virtue. I have never kissed anyone before.”
“What? Not even the most handsome man in the mill?” Fitzwilliam teased.
Prudence punched him in the arm. “Just because I’m unkissed does not mean I haven’t been courted or offered marriage.”
Her words immediately doused the humour in Fitzwilliam’s expression. “Have you? By whom?”
Shaking her head at him, she asked, “Fitzwilliam, do you know how arrogant and presumptuous you’ve been?”
“No. I―”
“Yes. You have,” Prudence interrupted. “It’s a good thing I like you, for I could box your ears. I really could.”
“Sorry. But it is not my fault. Truly.”
“And whose fault is it, pray tell?”
“Yours.”
“Mine?” Prudence spluttered.
“Yesterday, I admitted that I ached for you, which I’ve never done with anyone else. I would just like to reiterate that, and today you’ve made me as jealous as a young fop with his first infatuation,” Fitzwilliam admitted.
“You are truly ridiculous.”
“But loveable with it?”
“Perhaps a little.”
“That will do for me.” Fitzwilliam didn’t wait for any further response; he took Prudence in his arms once more and showed her, without words, just how loveable he could be.
When they eventually separated, both were flushed and breathless.
“This must stop,” Prudence said. “And this time I am being serious.”
“Why?”
“What happens if we are caught, Fitzwilliam? Can you see yourself living in Manchester with me? For I promise you this, I won’t ever live in London,” Prudence said. “Do you want to risk compromising me if that is the consequence?”
Fitzwilliam paled. He had been playing a dangerous game. They were still strangers really, and Prudence could demand he marry her. He hadn’t been thinking sensibly, just reacting to her. He should have thought of the consequences earlier. He was a fool. “I suppose I already have compromised you.”
“Don’t be silly. We have both enjoyed the kisses. They were something we both wanted. But I cannot risk any further foolishness. I won’t bring any shame onto my father. He is most precious to me,” Prudence explained reluctantly.
“Of course not. I am sorry, Prudence. I acted the cad.”
“That is the first time you’ve ever used my given name.” Prudence smiled, lightening the mood. “Come. We can put it down to a pleasurable experience, a moment of madness. But we shall still be the best of friends, won’t we?”
“You will be a most treasured one to me,” Fitzwilliam said honestly.
“Good. We can go on as we were before,” Prudence said, but there was a little less light in her eyes than normal. It went unnoticed by the man who was in as much turmoil as she.
*
Almost a week passed before it was the evening of the party held at Sir James’ house. Evenings had been trying for both Fitzwilliam and Prudence. Paranoid that their behaviour was being watched, for there was little that Lady Catherine failed to notice, they were on guard as to how they behaved with each other. As a result, their interactions were stilted and awkward.
Even Anne had looked at them frowningly on a number of occasions. It was driving them both mad.
Prudence took longer than usual to get ready for the party. She did not want to go. How could she stand to watch Fitzwilliam flirt and dance with Miss Goode when she had been the one to push him away? She could have had a week of kisses. But no, she had to be sensible and honourable, and it would go down as one of the biggest regrets of her life.
Pinning the fall front of her dress in place, she smiled to herself. At least she would be dressed in the height of fashion; Papa had made sure of that. Picking up her sapphires that would enhance the ice blue satin of her dress, she looked well enough. Not beautiful, no matter that Fitzwilliam tried to convince her of it, but she loved him for it.
Love.
One small word that meant so much. She truly loved him, and looking at herself in the mirror, she decided this was ridiculous. She held their future in her own hands. If she were truthful, they could go on without restraint. Yes. That was it. She would confess all tomorrow.
Fitzwilliam waited in the drawing room for the ladies in the party. Swirling a brandy in the large bulbous glass he was holding, he realised something that had been niggling at him for days. He wanted to marry her. He’d never wished to wed anyone else he had ever met, but he wanted Prudence. That was all well and good. He congratulated himself on choosing the finest woman in the land. There was one problem. Money.
Knocking back the liquid in one fell swoop, he silently cursed. It always came down to money.
Anne entered the room dressed in a pale gold dress, which suited her colouring perfectly. She smiled shyly at her cousin.
“You look beautiful, my dear,” Fitzwilliam said gently. “I wish you could have a season in London.”
“I would not enjoy it,” Anne admitted. “I’m not as strong as Prudence. I would wilt under the round of entertainments and the gossip and censure if I made a mistake.”
“Perhaps. It can be hard. Although you are wrong about our cousin. She has admitted she wouldn’t live in London.”
“She’s strong and able. I think perhaps she might at some point change her mind. For the right person, of course,” Anne said, with a nervous glance at her cousin.
“Are we that obvious?” Fitzwilliam asked. There was no point in pretending with Anne. She’d spent too much time with them not to have noticed some affection between them.
“A little.”
“It’s a useless cause, Anne. I cannot marry her, for I want to provide a good living for my future family.”
“Is there nothing you can do? Appeal to my mother? I do not mind giving you some of my inheritance, for I’m hardly likely to spend it all,” Anne offered.
Walking over to his cousin, he grasped her by the hands and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Anne, for your kind offer. It isn’t possible, but I am eternally grateful that you would be good enough to make such a kind gesture.”
Anne blushed. “It’s partially selfish on my part. If I gave away some of my fortune, I might be able to not be so far above the person I like.”
“We are a fine pair, are we not?” Fitzwilliam groaned. “What a hash we are making of our lives. I will tell you this. When I finally give up hope of finding an heiress to fool into marrying me, I shall return to Rosings and live off you for the rest of my days. We shall have each other for company.”
Laughing, Anne turned as the door opened. “Be careful what you wish for, Cousin, I might hold you to that.”
Prudence entered the room with Lady Catherine and was gratified at the expression on Fitzwilliam’s face as he took in her dress, which was sliding over her figure in a most tantalising way. He swallowed before making his bow to his aunt, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from Prudence.
The three made their way to the party. Once again, Lady Catherine had condescended to convey the Collins’s to the Goode family. Mr. Collins kept the conversation flowing whilst the others in the carriage took solace in their own thoughts.
Thirty people made up the party at Sir James’s house. He was an amenable host, welcoming and hospitable without being overbearing.
Prudence spoke a little to every member of the family and decided that, putting aside her jealousy of Miss Goode, the whole family were thoroughly decent people. She perhaps was more inclined to find pleasure now that she had decided to take control of her life and be honest with the man she’d fallen in love with. Yes, life was proving to be very good indeed.
Before the dancing started, some of the young ladies present had the opportunity of showing off their abilities on the pianoforte. When Prudence was entreated to play, Fitzwilliam surprised her by offering his hand.
“Let us perform a duet, Cousi
n,” he said with his ready smile.
“Really?” Prudence squeaked. “I accepted I’d have to play, but there was no mention of singing!”
“Don’t worry. My voice will carry for us both if yours is so awful.”
“Beast,” she muttered, but a laugh gurgled, and she approached the instrument with a ready smile on her face.
If anyone watching the pair had any doubt in their mind about the affection each held for the other, by the end of the love song they performed, no one was under any illusion that there was going to be some sort of announcement in the not too distant future.
Lady Catherine looked livid, but remained poised and her usual self during the night. Even when Mr. and Mrs. Collins had been set down at the parsonage, she remained silent.
On entering Rosings, she announced to the group. “We shall have an extra at luncheon tomorrow. I expect us all to dine at one. I expect you all to gather promptly.” Without further explanation, she regally climbed the stairs, leaving the three standing in the hallway, equally puzzled.
“That sounds very mysterious,” Fitzwilliam said. “Has she given you no clue to who is joining us, Anne?”
“Not at all. I cannot think who it could be,” Anne admitted. “There’s no point in trying to find out more. Mother obviously wants it to be a surprise. I shall say my goodnight to you both.”
Prudence waited until Anne was halfway up the stairs before turning to Fitzwilliam. “I don’t expect you to rise early, but could I have a moment to speak with you after luncheon? I have something I’d like to discuss with you to both our benefit.”
“That sounds intriguing. Can we not speak of it now?”
“Better to do so when we are both clear-headed, I think,” Prudence said. “Goodnight, Fitzwilliam. Thank you for tonight. It was a pleasure performing a duet with you.”
“Your singing wasn’t too bad after all,” Fitzwilliam said with a grin. “I only had to increase the volume of my voice a time or two.”
“You really are a rascal.”
Chapter 9
The Colonel's Spinster: A Regency Romance (Tragic Characters in Classic Literature) Page 7