A Bloom in Winter (5 page)

She grinned at him and he laughed, dispelling some of the tension in the room. “I think I’ll manage. As far as I know, Euclid and Virgil don’t care a whit about where they are studied, as long as they are studied.”

One of Prudence’s biggest surprises was how educated the farm boy turned footman actually was. He’d grown up working the land but had snuck away often to help the local animal doctor, who had mentored him and lent him books. Prudence
had a wider knowledge in some things, such as politics, current events, and English literature, but in science, mathematics, and geography, he left her far behind. On Sundays, they had taken to going to a tea shop, reading the newspaper together and dissecting every article, one by one.

Perhaps while she was out tomorrow she might find a cookbook that would rescue her, she thought while waiting for their cottage pie. The pub was just down the street from their flat, and Prudence sat in the back room next to a door discreetly marked
Ladies’ Entrance
. The large mirror behind the bar was cracked in several places and the red velvet stools showed tufts of white cotton through the worn spots. She had given her order to the tired-looking woman who worked the ladies’ area. Prudence looked around with interest. The male half of the bar bustled with men getting off work, while in the small back room only a few “working” women were in attendance.

A group of young women about Prudence’s age pushed through the ladies’ door, giggling and chatting. All were dressed in plain dark skirts that came to the ankle, and white blouses under their winter coats, which they soon removed in the heated pub. All wore their hair pinned back neatly, with no-nonsense hats sitting straight on their heads. Prudence tried not to stare at them as they called for ale. The tired servingwoman picked up a bit when they came in. “You’ll be the death of me, you gaggle of geese,” she teased. “You should all be home taking care of your mas instead of wearing out my feet.”

“Ah, you love us, Mary, admit it,” a lilting voice teased.

Prudence sat up. She knew that voice . . . She turned and stared at the table they had taken, trying to see who it was.

“Miss Prudence!”

Suddenly a skinny redheaded girl detached herself from the
group and ran toward Prudence. The girl wrapped her arms around her in a quick hug before jumping back. “Oh, I’m sorry, miss!” she said, her face turning red beneath her freckles. “I was just so surprised to see you.”

“Katie! What are you doing here? Mrs. Tannin said you had left and gotten a job in an office.”

The girl smiled proudly. “Yes. Thanks to Sir Philip, I was able to get through secretarial school and got a fine office job.”

The girls behind her hooted. “Katie still thinks it’s a fine job,” one of them said, laughing.

“That’s because she’s still new,” another one said.

“Well, it’s better than wiping posh arses all day, if you ask me,” one of them said, giving Prudence a bold stare.

Prudence flushed, feeling as if she were back in the servants’ hall at Summerset, being ridiculed for her high-class upbringing. Bugger that. She’d probably had a happier childhood than most of these women had even dreamed of having. She’d not regret it just because her privileged childhood meant she now fit in nowhere. She straightened her shoulders and looked down her nose at the woman with the black eyes until the busybody looked away. She turned back to Katie. “So you like your job? Do you live near here?” She hugged Katie back, tears stinging her eyes. She had always been friendly with Katie. Unlike at Summerset, servants were treated as beloved and respected employees in Sir Philip’s home. Prudence wasn’t close with them the way Victoria was, but suddenly she was gladder to see Katie than she could possibly say.

Katie nodded. “I moved here with my mother after I got the new job so I could be closer to work. Mum was finally able to give up working, so now she keeps house for me and my girlfriends who rent rooms from us. It’s a good deal all the way
around. But what about you? What are you doing in Camden Town, or here for that matter?” Katie suddenly seemed aware of her surroundings and was shocked to find Miss Prudence here, even if she and her friends frequented such a place.

“My husband is going to be attending the Royal Veterinary College as soon as he passes the examinations. We are in Camden because it’s close to his school.” She didn’t add that here her husband could pick up odd jobs when they needed them. It was deeply instilled in her that as a lady she should never talk about money except with her husband.

The server handed Katie a mug of beer on her way to the table behind her and Katie took a drink. “Fancy that! How quickly things change, eh, miss? I’d have never figured you for a Camden Town housewife . . . no offense, miss.”

Prudence laughed and wondered why there were tears under the laughter. “None taken, Katie. I actually don’t know the first thing about being a housewife in Camden Town or anywhere else for that matter. I can’t cook, or sew, or even do laundry.”

Katie’s eyes widened. “I never thought of that. You’re like a babe, aren’t you? Tell you what, I’ll send you to my mum and she’ll take care of you. Teach you all that stuff.”

Relief of the load pressing down on her lightened her so much that she felt as if she were going to float away. “Would she, really?”

“Yes, I think she gets bored by herself all day.”

The servingwoman handed Prudence the cottage pie in the big bowl Prudence had brought for it.

“Mary, can I get a pencil and paper?” Katie wrote the address down and gave it to her. “You drop by tomorrow and see how happy my mum is to help. I believe she thinks I’m a lost cause.”

“Thank you so much, Katie.”

As Prudence hurried back to the flat, she wondered how to confess to Andrew about her need for housewifery lessons. Her stomach began to tie in knots as once again she imagined how the conversation would unfold as Andrew realized that his new bride had never even made a simple meat pie, that she was just as uppity as the other servants at Summerset purported her to be. Perhaps she could delay revealing those shortcomings to him for now . . . After all, he was already fulfilling his promise to her to support them while pursuing his studies, and she couldn’t bear the thought of letting him down so early in their marriage.

Andrew had bathed while she was out and wore a soft, loose-fitting white cotton shirt and trousers. His feet were bare and his hair, which he always wore a bit longer than most men, but not as long as an aesthete might, curled damply around his neck. He stood in front of her, his hazel eyes warm and caressing. Wordlessly, she handed him the bowl of cottage pie and moved to take down the dishes. He ate with gusto, seemingly absorbed in his food.

“This is good,” she finally remarked, desperate to break the silence.

“Yes.” His eyes met hers and then shifted away.

He’s as nervous about tonight as I am
, she thought in surprise. The realization eased some of her anxiety. “Would you like another helping?”

He shook his head and she put the leftover pie in the icebox. Silently, she cleared the table and washed their plates while he added more coal to the stove. They did their nightly chores even though it was too early to go to bed. When there was nothing left to do, Prudence grabbed her nightdress and darted into the water closet. Her face flamed in embarrassment, but she would not, could not, change in the bedroom. What if he came in?

She took her hair down and brushed it until it hung like dark silk down her back. When she could think of no other reason to linger, she opened the door and stepped into her bedroom. Andrew had diffused the gaslight until it cast a soft glow over the room. She blinked and her pulse raced as she saw him standing next to the bed. He had removed his shirt and even in the low lighting she could see the muscles in his chest and arms, deeply etched from a lifetime of labor.

Her mouth went dry.

Then, still silent, Andrew held out his arms. She only hesitated for a moment. More than anything else, Andrew made her feel safe, as if he were a harbor at which she could moor to escape the unexpectedly stormy seas of her life.
I can do this
. He scooped her up into his arms and held her close for a moment before gently laying her on the bed. As he bent over her, Sebastian’s face floated to her mind for a fraction of a second before she banished it. She’d made her choice. She ignored the sound of her own heart hammering in her ears and reached up to touch his face. “Andrew,” she said softly. “Andrew.”

V
ictoria tapped her fingers, waiting for Kit’s reply. He stood in front of the fireplace of her secret room. He, too, was tapping his fingers, only on the mantel instead of the desk. Lately, her secret room had begun to feel as though it belonged to Kit, as well. It had become their meeting place when they wanted to gossip or banter or simply have some time to themselves, away from the inane chatter of the other guests.

She sat impatiently, her fingers skittering across the shining top of her lovely round desk, once used by an ancestor who would no doubt be completely scandalized by the plan she had just proposed to Kit.

“Let me get this straight.” He frowned at her, his dark red brows furrowing like caterpillars. “You want me to help you to sneak into London for a week?”

She glared at the mocking tone of his voice. “You know, you’re usually quite handsome, but right now, you look more like an ogre from a Grimm’s fairy tale than a human, so you can stop glowering at me.”

His head came up and he looked at her, his eyebrows unfur-rowing and shooting up on his forehead in such a comical way, she couldn’t help but giggle.

“You think I’m handsome?”

Victoria shrugged. “Yes. Sort of like a fox, with your ginger hair and sharp eyes. But don’t let it go to your head; Sebastian and Colin are far better looking than you. Now, back to my plan.”

He rolled his eyes at that and got back to the matter at hand. “The only way it would work would be to bring Elaine into it. There is no way your aunt would approve of your traveling to London on your own, and she certainly would never let you drive off alone with me.”

Victoria shook her head, frustrated by the fuss. “These people do know I’m of age, right? Why may cousin Colin come and go as he pleases, yet Elaine and I are required to inform everyone where we are at every moment of every day? How is that fair?”

“Do you know you’re rather lovable when you act like a suffragette?” he teased.

She threw a fountain pen at him and missed. It exploded on the mantel. “Oh, blast! Now see what you made me do.”

He laughed. “
Made
you do? No, leave it,” he said when she stood to clean it. “No one comes back here and we’ll call it art, much as that crazy art nouveau crowd calls their stuff art.”

“Oh!” She stamped her foot. He knew she loved art nouveau.

“Now don’t get your petticoats in a bundle, kitten, and let’s figure out how to get you to London so you can meet with . . . whom?”

“Harold L. Herbert, the managing editor for
The Botanist’s Quarterly
,” she said, sitting back down.

“Ah yes, so you can meet with Hairy Herbert. And what do you hope to gain from this meeting?”

For a moment, Victoria drew a blank. “Well, he said he wanted to meet with me. He finds my writing thought provoking. He not only paid me for an article but is also interested in
more of my work. So, more assignments, I suppose.” She tilted her nose up in the air, waiting for him to make fun of her.

To her surprise, he didn’t. “So you’ve never met Hairy Herbert. Have you spoken to him on the telephone?” He took the seat across from the desk and crossed his long legs. His eyes regarded her gravely.

Victoria shifted uneasily. “No.”

“So he doesn’t know that the author of the scientific article he paid ten pounds for is, in fact, an eighteen-year-old girl?”

Victoria opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Kit indicated the letter on the desk between them. “I noticed you didn’t use your real name.”

She straightened. “I did so.”

“No, you used V. Buxton. So you must have known there might be some bias against your sex.”

She shrugged a shoulder, refusing to let him goad her. “V. Buxton sounds more serious than Victoria. He likes my work. It won’t matter now if I’m a girl or a gorilla. I’m going to meet with him and nothing you say can stop me. If you don’t want to help me find a way to get to London without raising Auntie’s suspicions, then I will find a way to do it myself.”

“Don’t be a goose. Of course I’ll help you. I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I didn’t, would I?”

She sat back, relieved. She could have figured something out, of course; it would just be so much easier and more fun if Kit were in on the plot. It was hard to believe they had only known each other for a few months. In many ways he had taken the place of Rowena and Prudence, since Prudence was gone and Rowena had slipped so far away on a sea of sadness that she no longer seemed like her sister. Kit, on the other hand, understood that one could be sad and still wish to have a good time.