Cousin Prudence (4 page)

George
, as he was introduced, caught Emma looking longingly at the half-boots and resolved to buy her similar – but in a colour that would suit Emma better than russet.

Mr Woodhouse came forward.

“Ah you are
poor
Lizzie’s
poor
little girl” he said  “POOR Prudence!  We shall see that you lack for nothing here…. I see at least you have shoes of a sort, even though they are not dainty… we will make sure you have slippers too to wear indoors.  You need not fear any exposure to the world until you have remained with us and we have given you sufficient
instruction
in the proper modes of speech and how to use the plethora of cutlery as must surely confuse you… do not worry about a thing, my poor dear Prudence!”

Prudence was dumfounded.  Whatever did this man expect?  Did he not recognise that her half-boots were of the highest kick of fashion?  Did he expect her to talk like a mill hand?  Evidently!  Well so she would!

“Ee, Uncle Henery, that’s reet gradely,” she said in the broadest tones of Yorkshire that she could manage.

Henry Woodhouse looked horrified.

He had not expected
that
strong an accent.

“Dear father, let me take Miss Blenkinsop’s pelisse
,” said George smoothly, drawing Prudence to one side.  He spoke rapidly in an undertone.

“You are a naughty minx!  My father-in-law, who is inclined to pessimism, is under a misapprehension concerning your estate that he refuses to relinquish for a sentimental pity of your mother being cut off from the family.  And if you play the fool like that, you will but give credence to his beliefs.  He is a kindly man who means well; and bear in mind h
e
would
have taken you

into his house if you
were
a barefoot miller’s child and shown you every kindness.  I pray you do not repay that good intent with unkind teasing!  Believe me, I and Emma

and our siblings have a more realistic understanding of your circumstances and I ask in the manner of a Cousin that you not exercise your levity on poor Henry.  You will find worthier foils for your wit in
London.”

Prudence flushed.

“I am sorry, Cousin George,” she said, relinquishing her pelisse and shako to him “I – I got angry, and I have a rather sharp temper.”

“Ah, much like your cousin Emma then
,” said George.  “It is forgiven; do not be put off by your Uncle’s manner! For he is the most amiable of men, truly!”

“If he would extend an olive branch and open his house to one of no education, barefoot and destitute then I see he is a very fine man
,” said Prudence “I will try not to be irritated by his pitying and patronising tone and I will indeed look forward to honing my wit in London instead.”

She smiled brightly at George, who hid a groan.

As if one of them was not bad enough!

He was unaware that Prudence thought of honing her wit on one who was tall, broad of shoulder, and with piercing grey eyes set in a swarthy face.

Miss Blenkinsop had changed for dinner into a round gown of fine embroidered white-on-white Indian muslin with, for the chill of the early spring evening, a spencer of apricot-coloured taffeta, braided and frogged and with braid decorating the half-sleeves.  She looked most statuesque and permitted her Uncle to take her in to dinner.

She looked askance at the bowl of thin gruel that was brought for him.

“My dear Prudence!  I beg that you will join me in a healthful bowl of gruel!” he declared “Poor dear Emma and poor George risk a heavier meal, but I cannot think it at all wise!”

“You shall eat as you are accustomed, Miss Blenkinsop
,” said George, “a heavier evening meal as we your cousins eat, or fruit if you wish something lighter; I think you are not keen on gruel?”

“I cannot consider it in any way a benefit to the digestion unless one is an invalid
,” said Prudence in relief that she was not to be made to eat the stuff.  “I shall fall in, Cousin George, with the habit you and Cousin Emma pursue.”

This was a substantial meal of stuffed baked trout, removed with a ham, rabbit stew, a ragout of seasonal vegetables, brawn and concluded with baked apples, the apples being the last of those laid down over the winter and not good enough, as Emma said, to eat any other way.  The household did not eat such extensive meals as many, for the very sight of too much rich food could move Mr Woodhouse to feel upset by it; but there was plenty, and plenty of bread too.  Prudence was hungry and did justice to her meal.  She also defiantly used the correct cutlery.

Mr Woodhouse was moved to hope that feasting too extensively would not prove ill for an empty stomach; and Prudence counted to ten in realising that he accounted her half starved, not merely several hours fasting since her last meal.  It was an insult to her father; but she swallowed her indignation.

It had been apparent throughout the meal, when Mr Woodhouse was moved to join conversation on one thing or another that he was singularly ill informed in so many respects that it was most charitable to regard him as afflicted and to be tolerant accordingly.

Chapter 5

Mr Woodhouse was amazed how quickly poor Prudence learned to fit in with a respectable family.  He credited Emma with the ability to teach the poor girl to speak and behave.  After all did not poor Emma always seem to be helping others out?

Prudence found  Mr Woodhouse trying but was kind to him and escaped conversation with him as often as possible.  She and Emma spent many delightful hours poring over fashion plates and planning their visit to
London.

“We can’t be expected to make a big splash of course
,” said Emma, “because for one thing, John and Isabella don’t have the sort of house that includes a ballroom so if we have a ball for you we shall have to hire some room; and we won’t be meeting any of what you might term
society
; but there are plenty of people we might meet and introduce you to without getting involved with any of the vulgarian set.  We might hope to introduce you to enough people, who know people, to get you introduced to some of the more prestigious entertainments; and there will be theatre trips of course, and riding in Hyde Park or walking in St James’ park where we may hope that you attract the notice of such young men as will beg their mamas to invite you to their own entertainments.  Though we must hope for some tall ones,” she said doubtfully.  Prudence laughed.

“It is a sad affliction being such a Long Meg, I do assure you!” she said “I am as tall as my father – he’s well built, they call him ‘Bull’ Blenkinsop for being built like a bull, and when he’s angered he lowers his head in the manner of a bullock about to charge.  I can see it does not come from my mother’s side of the family; I wish I truly remembered her, for all I recall is a lovely smile.  Your smile recalls her to me, dear Emma.”

Emma kissed her cousin affectionately.

“We are in similar case, Pru, in such lack of memories of our mothers
,” she said, “but oh!  What a lovely thing to say, that I should recall her to you!  I have always thought that I resemble my mother the most!”

“There is enough then of your father’s side of the family in you
,” said Prudence, “and you have enough beauty for a host of families! You are very beautiful, I think you will not lack people wanting to dance with YOU in London”

“I do like to dance
,” said Emma, “but I like most to dance with Mr Knightley,” she flushed slightly.  Dancing with George was always a great thrill to her, even though they had been married some months!

The decorative nature of the caller who arrived next day had all the maids finding an excuse to pass the study where he had been placed in order to peer at him and giggle flirtatiously.  Emma tripped downstairs in response to being brought word that a young gentleman was here to see a young lady. He did not appear to know the name of the young lady he
wished to see, so, said the maid, Jennifer, whom Cowley had sent to find Mrs Emma.

Emma tripped into the study.

“Good morning,” she said, “I have been told you are come visiting; I am Mrs Knightley; how may I help you?”

The young gentleman was very young; not, Emma fancied, even into his twenties and he was indeed, as Jennifer had whispered, a very beautiful young man indeed.  His hair was dark and curled thickly off his forehead and he had a delicate cast to his features with eyelashes any woman might envy.  He was also possessed of a good pair of shoulders despite the slenderness of youth and muscular calves; which suited the Corinthian style to which he appeared to aspire.

He blushed as he rose, thrusting out a hand.

“Oh, Mrs Knightley; I am Arthur Alver; I fear it
was not you that I came to see…though I am most awfully pleased to have met you of course; only it is about an apology that I was to make in writing and that I wrote to a Miss Somebody whose name quite escapes me because my puppy ate it after I had written it, and as I had written her name down, I had not therefore committed it to memory.”

Emma vowed to the end of her life that she did not quite know how she had the fortitude to manage not to laugh out loud at such a very puppy-like youth who turned big brown soulful eyes on her as though asking for a caress when he expected a whipping.

“I expect you may mean Miss Blenkinsop,” she said.

He brightened.

“Why indeed yes!  That was the name.  Do you think now I am here she will be satisfied with a spoken apology?  My Uncle Gervase was most particular that she wished a written one but because of Flurry – he’s a black springer spaniel you know – it’s sort of gone.”

“I am almost certain that my Cousin Prudence will be more than happy to accept you apology in person
,” said Emma hoping that Pru would do so. “You will be the young gentleman whose coach had an unfortunate affinity for hers on the road, I assume?”

“I nicked her chaise with the wheel of my phaeton
,” said Mr Alver mournfully, “and my own wheel came off later.  It was shockingly bad driving and Uncle Gervase has told me so very thoroughly.  I did not know until he told me that I had tipped her into the ditch.”

“Well I shall go and find her and you shall tell her yourself
,” said Emma, escaping.

Prudence watched Emma bury herself in a cushion in the drawing room where they had been congenially occupied in sewing to dissolve into whoops of mirth.

Presently Emma emerged and managed to explain.

Prudence rarely remained angry for long over any matter; and she too was able to chuckle at Emma’s description.

“He sounds as though his uncle should not let him out without leading reins!” she said.  “Well I shall go to the poor young man and put him out of his misery; you had better accompany me, dear Emma, as a chaperone.”

Emma was nothing loath; the situation had some hilarity to it yet.

The Honourable Mr Arthur Alver, having got over the shock of how tall Miss Blenkinsop was,  managed to stumble through his apology and his explanation over why there was no written apology.

“Very well, Mr Alver
,” said Prudence, “as I understand your uncle has said all that is proper on learning to drive properly we shall say no more about it.”

“By jove the most splendid thing has come out of it though!” said Arthur
, “because Uncle Gervase is teaching me all sorts of tricks to help me drive better; and he’s a famous whip you know, one of the sans pareils amongst the Corinthian set!”

“Hmm, well, I might have wished he had done so sooner, but better late than never
,” said Prudence.  “I admit that I can perceive the thrill of speed; it must be very exhilarating.”

Mr Alver waxed enthusiastic; and Emma ended up inviting him to take pot luck with them for dinner.

Mr Alver accepted with enthusiasm.

“For
,” he said, “I had not hoped to bespeak a decent meal in any inn by this time and it will be too late to turn out the servants to cook at Alver House if I push on to London but with a meal under my belt I shall feel quite sanguine about riding on into town, for even with any delay it can be no more than two hours away.”

“It is sixteen miles; a good horse should make that in two hours without unduly tiring your mount
,” said Emma.

George raised an eyebrow over their youthful guest and his obvious – to him – sudden and violent infatuation with Emma. Emma had not noticed.  George always found it amusing that such a romantic and would-be matchmaker as his darling Emma was yet so incapable of noticing the romantic fervour of others!

Once Arthur had rode on his way, promising to look out for the family during the season, Mr Woodhouse drew  Prudence aside and asked,