Cousin Prudence (33 page)

“More than measured up
,” said Mrs Elton with an angry little titter, “since he also has a title.”

“Oh but Mrs Elton, just because my father is in trade does not mean that I should be so ill bred or vulgar as to regard that in the least
,” said Prudence.  “It is fortunate that the majority of his land runs sheep for that and the mills that I will inherit might thereby enrich each other and

such must be the consideration for any considering future generations; but my father has brought me up to consider that titles may often be hollow things.”

“Bravo my dear sister
,” said Roger.  “Personally I hold pride in my title and so does Gervase; but it is not of itself any kind of measure.  Why, that fellow Paget was created  Marquess of Anglesey and he’s a dashed loose fish. Nosey can’t stick him.”

“Roger!” said Georgie

“Eh?  Oh sorry my dear, apologies for the expression” said Roger.

“Oh if you please, Lord Roger
,” said Miss Bates committing the social solecism of miscalling the Earl, “Who is Nosey?”

“Nosey?  Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington
,” said Roger. 

Arthur was busy whispering to Miss Bates who flushed.

“Lord Greyling, I apologise for misunderstanding how to name you,” said Miss Bates, flustered.

“Oh, don’t consider it my dear lady; not in the least
,” said Roger courteously.  At least these provincials mostly tried hard and meant well; not like that wretched woman who had so insulted Georgie in Brighton!  “Devil of an awkward business when the old man died while I was at Eton; went from being Wrexham to Grayling overnight; took six for forgetting to answer rollcall because I used to daydream through the first half of the alphabet.”

“Oh how cruel!” cried Miss Bates.

“It taught me to pay attention I suppose,” said Roger, “and as a young officer that saved my life; so a cruelty with a point.  My boy William is much impressed by the current headmaster, Dr Keate; they call him the flogging head, but in my day discipline was erratic so at least you know where you are with a stern man.  And William says

that the fellows reckon him a great scholar and look forward to being seniors to be taught by him.  And William has managed to avoid doing anything to be flogged for; or at least he hasn’t been caught!”

“Oh, I could never send my precious boys away!” cried Isabella.

“They get more opportunities at school with masters who are accomplished each in his own field
,” said Georgiana.  “Diana has often complained that there are not comparable schools for girls; I went to a place where one might learn music and painting and dancing and I fear very little else.”

“Oh what a shame you did not enter somewhere like Mrs Goddard’s establishment
,” said Mr Woodhouse, “Of course my girls had their dear Miss Taylor, Mrs Weston as she is now, and only Emma needed to attend for a few lessons Miss Tayor felt might benefit her for the good company, but for those without such a paragon, I believe it is an altogether superior school; French, Music, Dancing, Writing, Accounts and Sewing and Laundry  are taught as standard subjects with Italian, Geography with globes and Drawing offered as extras.  There are three teachers besides Mrs Goddard herself and the curriculum is very advanced I believe.  Debating is encouraged as an activity and poetry and prose of the highest quality read for the edification of the young ladies.”

“Not that Mrs Knightley required any encouragement to debate any subject
,” George whispered to Emma.  She smiled lovingly upon him. 

“You are most wicked to tease me Mr Knightley
,” she said demurely.  Emma was, after all, in an excellent mood; for Augusta Elton had been put down most successfully and was looking quite defeated.

And Philip Elton was hoping to find another living far away from this place where he might be able to put this behind him and learn to forgive his wife for making a fool of him and of all people in front of and by Emma

Knightley.  She had planned it all the wretched woman; planned to have Augusta shown as a fool to make such ready conjectures! He hardly knew how to choke down the rest of his meal; and when he got her home, Augusta was going to receive a piece of his mind!

Prudence smiled to herself.

A man willing to nurse a sick child was, to her mind, a hero in any case; and had her Gervase been the very cashiered horse doctor that Augusta Elton had supposed and was still so kindly she must have loved him in any wise; and to hear him disparaged by that woman would have been hurtful.  That he held the sort of position that could be a rebuke just in itself was to Prudence’s mind meet, that Augusta Elton’s assumed air of superiority should be defeated by being socially nothing next to one whom she would ridicule!

Chapter 40

Prudence was delighted that next morning William Larkins drove up to Hartfield with a passenger in the Donwell dogcart, and that passenger was her father!

“Papa!” she cried “How splendid!  Oh Mr Larkins, thank you kindly for bringing my father and his baggage!”

“You are right welcome, Miss Prudence,” said William Larkins, “I was collecting extra candles from Saunders’ shop for His Lordship and seeing Mr Blenkinsop set down at the Crown from the Post Chaise I made so bold as to ask if he was your father and it seemed the thing to do to offer him a ride.”

“Oh you are very good!” said Prudence who could never see why Emma should feel nervous of William Larkins for a degree of taciturnity; she found most of the people here in Surrey more effusive than those to whom she was accustomed.  And her unaffected manners found William Larkins quite ready to pass the time of day with her and to be ready to put himself out; as too did her idea about growing crops under glass.  For that idea, Mr Larkins would have put himself out every day for the way it would save at least some crops. And the big orangery at the back of Donwell was filled with strawberry plants, growing on tiers that Mr Larkins had, with the aid of the hands, hastily knocked together. 

“Eh up lass! You do look gradely!” said Mr Blenkinsop “From what Mr Larkins tells me you’ve turned farmer, lass! Aye, singing your praises he has, sithee!”

Prudence blushed.

“Oh I but had a little idea to help with this cold that Cousin George and Gervase were able to refine upon; and doubtless Mr Larkin too has made clever  improvements,” she said.

“But, Miss Blenkinsop, without the initial idea – simple and obvious when pointed out but not to those of us hidebound by the ways we are used to – we should not have been able to implement any refinements
,” said William Larkins, “and Mr Knightley is a great man to see at once how to make the most of the crop by saving the Donwell strawberries which are famed far and wide.  They go into Kingston and Brentford; we even send strawberries to Strawberry Hill” and he gave a shy smile, this being as close as he tended to come to venturing a sally.

“Oh that I like!” said Prudence laughing. “You are a wit, Mr Larkins; we ought to have a crier crying the srawberries – oh…

Of our strawberries eat your fill

We even send them to Strawberry Hill”

“Eh lass, that’s not a bad rhyme,” said Mr Blenkinsop “What d’ye think, Mr Larkins?”

“I think that your daughter is a very clever young lady and a fine match for his Lordship, who besides Mr Knightley is the finest man who ever stepped
,” said William Larkins.  Gervase had spent several convivial hours inspecting the flocks and asking sensible questions since there were differences between the breed that was run here in Surrey and those he kept in Lincolnshire. The sheep he ran, Lincolns, were large creatures, hornless and with a thick long coat with a high lustre to the wool.  The sheep in Surrey were short staple, also hornless, with a dark face; though the wool was very fine and soft, and according to the estate histories had been bred with  Spanish merino sheep to improve the stock and the fineness of the wool.  Gervase had commented that from what little he knew of weaving – which he admitted was not a lot – the combination of the wool from HIS sheep spun as a warp, combined with a weft spun from Donwell’s sheep should make a very fine and soft wool indeed and suggested to William Larkins that if Mr Blenkinsop would give his opinion there might be the

possibility of some very exciting accommodations to be made for the enrichment of all parties.

William Larkins was delighted to find a noble lord not above considering the practicalities of life.

Mr Blenkinsop was duly introduced to Mr Woodhouse.

“Eh, my brother Henry; it’s reet gradely to meet you at long last!” he said, wringing Mr Woodhouse’s hand “My daughter writes to me that you suffer reet indifferent health and have been badly wi’ t’dowly old mist and fog, ee and I be right sorry t’hear that!”

“Prudence is a sweet girl and very kind to an old man,” sighed Mr Woodhouse hoping he had translated the greeting correctly, “and it’s a sad day to see so lively and fine a girl waste herself on matrimony!  Though Alverston seems a fine man indeed; but what’s that to the purpose?  Women should not tie themselves to any man!”

“Eh, Henry lad, there’d be no future generations then, think on!” said Mr Blenkinsop.  Prudence had warned him by letter of her Uncle Henry’s valetudinarian habits and strange ideas; and Mr Blenkinsop had decided that the best measure was to meet such sad pronouncements with unquenchable good cheer and a comment that neither directly contradicted nor agreed with such.

It might be said that Mr Woodhouse found Mr Blenkinsop a trifle too hearty for his liking, though appreciating that the man loved his daughter and would be losing her.  He said so.

“Poor
, er, Ephraim, that you will lose an only daughter; I have lost my Isabella though my dear Emma is with me still.”

Ephraim Blenkinsop reflected wryly that had Pru not warned him of the way this mardy old gaga spoke, he would have assumed that his niece Isabella was dead and Emma scarcely fit enough to crawl out of bed; instead of the one being a young matron with five hopeful children and the other a young married woman who was in the family way and by all accounts thriving.

“Eh lad, tha’lt not tell me that I be losing a bairn when happen I be gaining a son; aye and a canny one too, sithee; knows his wool does Gervase Alver of Alverston, and no fool about steam power either. T’lad is ready to go into business with me too, and expand t’portion that will be Pru’s. It’s reet relieved I am that she’s someone t’care for her when I turn up my toes, aye and to have childer no doubt to pass t’mill on to.”

Mr Woodhouse murmured all that was proper about what a fine man Alverston was, and not too high in the instep to pass the time of day even with those engaged in trade.

“What Cousin Gervase dislikes is hypocrites,” said Emma, “for he is as ready to be civil to a labourer as a duchess so long as there is no falseness and pushing ways.  That is why he so dislikes the Eltons; for Mrs Elton, though at pains to tell all how much she hates pretension might make a cat laugh for claiming gentility for her brother-in-law for having been a land owner for quite eleven years not two like the neighbours of his she disapproves of.  Cousin Gervase says it is the manner in which one behaves that may or may not stink of shop; for the Coles, whom I was foolish enough to despise, have learned to behave with gentility by watching rather than by thrusting themselves forward.  And I have learned to appreciate that; having someone of so much more socially advanced estate than we as Alverston in our midst has been educating from the way that he treats others.  He has described you as a fine man Uncle Ephraim; and he is both sufficiently well connected and, too, wealthy enough that he may marry as he chooses without having to care for the censure of others.  I do not, however, believe that he typifies those who are of high society.”

“I should say he is a reet unusual man, aye, and long-thinking, and there’s precious few that are of any degree of birth
,” said Mr Blenkinsop.  “Them gormless lumps who

do nothing but dance and gamble, if you ask me there’s nowt in their heads but throwster’s waste; more brass than brains, and so I warned my Pru.  Indeed, I was hopeful, Henry, that she’d marry a man of your own estate; and I confess that Alverston threw me all into a flummox; but he’s gradely, nowt better.”

George rescued Mr Woodhouse from the hearty Mr Blenkinsop and engaged him in a conversation he wanted to have in any case concerning wool and weaving, and Gervase’s ideas about combining the two different wools.

“The difficulty there, George lad, will be in t’ carrying of yon wool
,” said Mr Blenkinsop.  “Less difficulty for Alverston; eh, but without seeing your sheep, lad, I can’t make a reasoned comment.  Art busy right now?”