Cousin Prudence (35 page)

“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 J
ove 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 95
th
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.