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Prudence and the Romantic Poet (The Three Graces #3) Chapter 3 9%
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Chapter 3

3

Lottie left the house in Laura Place clutching two books under her arm and a handful of sweetmeats tied up in a napkin. Mrs Smithyman left with an advance on her services in silver shillings, and a basket of cold chicken and rhubarb turnovers that Mrs Finnistone begged her to take that they might not go to waste, for they could not possibly eat it all before it was spoiled. Mrs Smithyman also left puzzling her weary mind over all Miss Grace’s questions regarding her sewing ability and what occupations she thought her son would choose, or were best fitted for, if he ever had so unlikely a thing as a choice of a trade in life. Miss Grace had also asked about the name of her landlord, but Mrs Smithyman said that all the rent arrangements had been made by her late husband, and she had not known any of the details. The rent was collected every week by a collector who was so large, brutish and surly that Lottie hid under the bed when he called. She promised she would look through a tin of her late husband’s papers and see if she could find any with the word ‘Rent’ on them. She did not know many words, but she knew what that one looked like, it being a short word .

More than a week passed before Prudence, visiting the pump room with her sister, saw the young lady she had jostled against on her first visit.

‘Do you know that young lady in white?’ Constance enquired. ‘She is looking at you in a friendly way, as though hoping to catch your eye.’

Prudence glanced across the room to see the lady in question.

‘I have not met her formally,’ said Prudence. ‘But we exchanged a few words in passing.’

‘She is very pretty,’ said Constance. ‘Beautiful, even. Her mother looks formidable.’

‘She does indeed.’ Prudence decided not to relate to her sister what the formidable mother had said regarding her looking as a shabby lady’s maid. Today Prudence was wearing a new walking gown and coat. She was not one for decorative details any more than Constance was, but the gown was of an excellent cut and quality. The clever modiste had disregarded the fashion for ruffled hems to create long, clean lines to give the illusion of height to Prudence’s diminutive frame. The fashion for a very high waistline and long skirt served her well in this regard. A long row of modest military-style frogging on the matching pelisse drew the eye in a vertical line, explained the modiste, adding to the impression of length, and though very low heels were the fashion, it was agreed that Miss Grace should wear a discreet heel ‘to balance the figure.’

A chip bonnet made over with wide dark blue ribbon trim, and a filigree brooch, a recent Christmas gift from her sister Charity, completed her outfit, and Constance had been very pleased with the result, declaring her very elegant and ladylike.

Prudence was also satisfied with her appearance. She was no classical beauty like Constance, who had the grace and figure of a Roman statue, nor had she the striking looks of Charity who had inherited their father’s auburn curls and had the outgoing confidence to ‘cut a dash’ wherever she went.

Prudence had the same chestnut brown hair and eyes as Constance and their mother, and the same fair skin as Charity, but with less tendency to freckles. A light dusting over her nose in the summer was her only trial. Prudence’s eyes were considered large, but she protested they were no larger than her sisters’, it was only that she had a smaller face to house them. But most people agreed that her eyes were her best feature, for they held a blend of humour and calm, and a look of wisdom that belied her youth.

The servants respected her practical ways, adults often underestimated her, mistaking her young appearance for one little more than a schoolgirl, but quickly revising their opinion on speaking with her.

Children adored her, and young ladies were quick to trust her, not seeing her as a rival but as a sisterly spirit. But, as yet, no young man had ever shown her romantic admiration, and certainly none like the young man she now caught sight of, leaning against a pillar, watching the sweet young lady in white, with an expression of rapture on his handsome face.

Prudence amused herself for a few minutes watching the young man. He would drag his eyes from the lady to scribble something in a small book. Now and then he would suck on the end of his pencil and gaze at his muse before scribbling again.

‘Do you think that young man there is an artist?’ said Constance, looking to see what was causing the gleam of humour in her sister’s eyes.

‘I was wondering the same thing.’

‘He is a little eccentric to be drawing a likeness in public,’ said Constance.

‘He does look eccentric, to be sure,’ agreed Prudence, who had already noted the rumpled hair and the casually arranged cravat over a flounced shirt.

‘I daresay I sound like a staid matron,’ said Constance, ‘but I cannot care for tight yellow pantaloons. What are the young men about these days to be drawing attention to themselves with such curious fashions and hairstyles? I thought it was always the ladies’ prerogative to be the butterfly?’

‘Perhaps the lady is the flower, and the young men are as butterflies these days,’ suggested Prudence laughingly.

‘Here’s the master of ceremonies coming to greet us,’ observed Constance. ‘Shall we ask him to make an introduction to the young lady? She might be a pleasant acquaintance for you. I have seen few young people in Bath so far.’

The master was appealed to, and proceeded to approach the lady and her mother. Prudence, watching discreetly from over her glass of water, saw the pleasure on the young lady’s face at the proposal.

The master, who made it his business to know everyone else’s business, had deduced that Mrs Duke Finnistone, wife of a landed gentleman of an established family, ranked above the ladies he now presented to her, for though the other ladies were of wealth, they were not of birth to equal the Finnistones, whose late progenitor had been known to be of royal blood, if, not legitimate royal lineage.

Prudence, always entertained by the quirks and foibles of people, was discreetly observing the matron’s reaction to the master’s enquiry as to the honour of making them known to Mrs Duke Finnistone.

There was a lull in the music while the musicians took a refreshment break, and she heard the matron saying, ‘Duke?’

The master had his back to Prudence, and was discreet enough not to be overheard, but Prudence had no doubt that he was explaining that Duke Finnistone was not the duke of Finnistone, but merely held the unusual name of Duke. The matron’s hopeful gleam dissipated, but the young lady looked eager to be friendly. The ladies rose and followed the master, who made the introductions and left them with a bow.

‘We are going to the Lower Rooms for breakfast,’ said Constance to their new acquaintance. ‘We shall only take toast and tea, but would you care to join us?’

‘I only drink coffee,’ said the matron, introduced as a Mrs Codd-Phelps.

‘I should like a cup of tea, if I may,’ said the young lady, a Miss Kimpshott, looking appealingly at her companion. ‘They serve coffee also,’ she assured her.

Mrs Codd-Phelps compromised on agreeing to a cup of black coffee. It was a ten-minute walk at a leisurely pace to the Lower Rooms where Miss Kimpshott took her tea very light, with sugar and plenty of milk. Prudence, who poured the tea, smiled to herself at Miss Kimpshott’s juvenile taste, for it was very like the ‘tea’ that Merry-Ann liked to drink for the pleasure of imbibing something grown up – more sweet milk and water than tea.

‘Are you impartial to the flavour of tea?’ Prudence enquired as she passed the cup to Miss Kimpshott.

‘I think it a little bitter,’ confessed the young lady. ‘I have tried all manner of black and green, but they are all alike to me. I prefer sweet things.’

‘You must call on us for tea,’ said Prudence, ‘and I shall make you a blend that might be more to your palate.’

‘No one makes tea better than my sister,’ said Constance.

Mrs Codd-Phelps’s eyes widened a little as it dawned on her that Prudence was not a paid companion, as she had thought, but the sister of the elegant Mrs Finnistone. This softened her a degree towards Miss Kimpshott’s friendly overtures to Prudence, and she replied on Miss Kimpshott’s behalf that she would be delighted to take tea any evening that was convenient. Mrs Codd-Phelps now launched a deep enquiry upon Mrs Finnistone as to any titled connections she had in Bath, or in general. Miss Kimpshott suggested to Prudence the desirability of a turn about the room. Prudence, knowing that Constance could hold her own against any managing female, agreed to this, but promised she would only take one turn, and the young ladies set off.

‘Oh, what a relief to be away from my cousin for half a minute!’ declared Miss Kimpshott as soon as they were out of earshot.

‘She is your cousin? I thought her your mama when I first saw you.’

‘Thank heaven she is not!’ Miss Kimpshott laughed, then sobered. ‘I beg pardon, Miss Grace, you must think me an ungrateful wretch to be speaking ill of my guardian, but I declare I think I shall burst at times with keeping in all the irritation I feel, for she is so snobbish a creature that she makes me quite miserable at times. How am I to meet any gentlemen if she is always scowling about and driving everyone away for not having blue blood?’

‘You are here to make a match? ’

‘No. I shall go to London for that. I am here for a little town polish in preparation for London.’

‘You seem very young to be preparing for a season.’

‘Yes,’ said Miss Kimpshott with a world-weary sigh. ‘I am just turned sixteen, which is a little young for a season, to be sure, but I am troublesome to my cousin, so the sooner I am off her hands the sooner she can go back to her animals.’

‘Her animals?’

‘She cares for nobody in the world but her horses and dogs. She does not deny that she likes animals infinitely more than people.’

Prudence did not wish to be inquisitive, but Miss Kimpshott’s conversation was so entertaining that she could not resist breaking the usual bounds of polite manners and continue to question her young friend to expand this picture of eccentricity.

‘Does she have a family of her own to be subjected to this unfortunate circumstance of not being liked above her horses?’

‘Not anymore, but I daresay it was her husband that drove her to dislike all mankind in the first place, though I think she must have had an odd disposition to begin with. Cousin Phyllis and Mr Codd-Phelps were never unkind to me, but it was very dreadful to hear all the arguing between them, and though I felt sorry for Mr Codd-Phelps, it was something of a relief when he died of apoplexy and there was no more shouting and throwing about of curry brushes and dog collars.’

She glanced up at Prudence with a sudden look of remorse. ‘Am I running on?’

Prudence assured her that she did not consider her to be running on in the least, and she quite understood her need to have a good talk-out when she got the chance. Miss Kimpshott thanked her and gave her arm an affectionate squeeze, saying that she knew the moment she first saw her that she was a dear, kind creature whom she would very much like as a friend. As they turned at the top of the room to walk down the other side Prudence caught a glimpse of the young man with the notebook. Miss Kimpshott saw him also, for she said, ‘Do you see that young man behind that urn? I declare, he has been spying on me since I arrived. I saw him at the pump room watching me from behind a pillar. Do you know who he is?’ Prudence replied that she did not know him in the least.

‘He is very well looking,’ said Miss Kimpshott, but why must he hide behind pillars? It is a good thing Cousin Phyllis’s back was to him when we were taking the waters, for if she had seen him she would have taken him by his collar and demanded to know what he was about. She has a detestation for lurkers and yellow pantaloons. I do not care for lurkers either, I would sooner he would come and talk to me than stare at me from behind the furniture, but I like yellow pantaloons, I think they are cheerful looking, do not you?’

Prudence had never considered the matter, and replied to her own amusement that she had no objection to anything yellow. They were now within hearing distance of Mrs Codd-Phelps and all dangerous subjects were dropped.

Mrs Codd-Phelps rose from her chair, and Constance looked glad to see her do so, though only Prudence would have noticed the lift of the chin that signalled her sister’s inner vexation.

‘Are we to leave already?’ said the disappointed Miss Kimpshott .

‘We have a final fitting with Madam Bernier for your ballgown,’ her cousin reminded her.

Miss Kimpshott brightened. ‘I shall see you there, shan’t I?’ she said to Prudence. ‘At tonight’s ball,’ she added when Prudence looked a little blank. ‘Oh, do say you will be there, it will infinitely pleasanter to have a friend.’ A happy thought struck her – ‘We shall take you in the carriage, may we, Cousin Phyllis? For we are only a little way from you, and it will be no trouble, shall it?’

Prudence began to explain that she had no plans to attend the ball, but Miss Kimpshott could not believe that this was so, for what did any young person come to Bath for if not to dance, and Miss Grace was not past the age of dancing, to be sure!

Prudence protested that she had not a ballgown in readiness, but Constance was vexatious enough to remind her of the alterations Mrs Smithyman had completed to her rose silk. Prudence explained that it was too short notice, but Constance and Miss Kimpshott dismissed such ideas, for it was barely half past ten in the morning, and the carriage would not call till half past six in the evening, and so Prudence was manoeuvred into an acceptance of their kind offer, and all was settled. To the ball she was to go, though perhaps the most reluctant dance partner in all Bath.

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