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Prudence and the Romantic Poet (The Three Graces #3) Chapter 17 52%
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Chapter 17

17

‘I am sorry I have not seen you before now,’ said Sir Robert, when Prudence was settled beside him in his blue curricle, a sheepskin rug over her lap . ‘It has been about two weeks, I believe.’

‘Thirteen days,’ said Prudence, and then flushed with embarrassment. Fortunately Sir Robert was engaged in navigating the way past a wide farm cart, and so she hoped he had not heard her.

‘And what have you been doing with yourself these thirteen days?’ said Sir Robert, dashing that hope. ‘I am sorry I have been neglectful in not calling sooner.’

She strove to make her voice light and teasing as she replied, ‘I am quite sure you have had more important matters to attend to than that of visiting your cousin’s friends. I have been caring for my uncle as best I can, and managing his house.’

‘Describe to me a day in your life.’

‘You are not interested in my prosaic days.’

‘But I am. Go on.’

‘I begin the day with making breakfast for the household. Twice a week, if my uncle is well enough to go out, I assist him to the hot baths. Sometimes I do the shopping for the day, or sometimes Lizzy does it and I walk out with Pip. I read the morning paper to my uncle. After a morsel of soup my uncle takes a nap, so I usually do some household sewing or help Lizzy and Sophy with one of the rooms. We have been working our way through each room, giving it a much needed turn out and clean. The house has been sadly neglected, which is a pity, for it is a handsome house. And then I cook dinner and read some more to my uncle until he is sleepy and ready for bed. Then I might read for an hour or two, or try and transcribe some of Mr Shelbourne’s poems, or write to my sisters, and then I make everyone cocoa, and we all go to bed. There. Did I not say it was very prosaic?’

‘So you are nurse and cook and housekeeper from morning to night.’

‘And dog walker. But I do not consider that a chore. I am fond of walking.’

‘I wonder that your sisters can let you live such a life of drudgery.’

This roused a spark of defensiveness.

‘My sisters respect my judgement and wishes well enough not to interfere, or forbid me from doing what I feel to be right. I should not take it kindly if they did. They would do the exact same thing if they were at liberty, but they have families to care for.’

‘But who cares for you, Miss Grace?’ He looked down at her, examining her face in that way that made her feel flustered and exposed. ‘You look a little pale and tired, and no wonder, from your account of the life you are leading at present.’

‘I am not without help. I have Lizzy and Amos. There is nothing they would not do to help me. ’

They were driving sedately round the park now. ‘My housekeeper’s left thumb was right,’ said Sir Robert, as a gleam of wintry sunshine broke through the dissipating clouds.

‘And what have you been doing these past days, sir?’ said Prudence, desirous of turning the conversation away from herself.

‘Like you, I have been attending to domestic matters.’

She laughed. ‘Not darning sheets and brewing possets, I’ll warrant.’

‘Perhaps not quite in the weeds of domesticity as that,’ he agreed. ‘But overseeing the work at the house I have built. I have a desire to be in there for Christmas, but there has been a lot to do. I am in town now to finalise orders for curtains and carpets.’

‘I should like to see your new house when it is finished.’

‘I should like very much to show you it. Perhaps you can help me,’ he continued. ‘I don’t wish to fall into the trap of furnishing my house top to bottom like a bachelor’s den. What colour scheme would you think attractive for a south-facing drawing-room?’

‘What do the windows look out on?’

‘The gardens. Which are not landscaped yet, for I am told I must wait until spring. But I am not fond of formal gardens. I like an easy, open view. There are already some well-established trees, and I would choose to preserve them and landscape the garden around them. How would you decorate such a drawing room?’

‘You must keep the trees,’ she urged. ‘I hate to see established trees cut down to make way for flower beds and fountains. For such a room with pleasant views I should choose a soft, natural green, perhaps with an accent colour of gold. So that it looks like the gardens and the southern light are extended into the room.’

He gave her an approving look before saying with so slight a hesitation that she was not sure if she imagined it, ‘I should like one of the suite of rooms upstairs to be pleasing for a lady to occupy, if the occasion requires. I saw some very elegant tiles when I was in Holland last year. Delftware, a simple blue and white design. Are you familiar with it?’

‘Yes. I think it delightful.’

‘I thought perhaps the bathroom would do well with them, and the blue and white carried into the boudoir. Or do you think that is too cold a colour for a bedroom suite?’

‘Not if there are plenty of warm textures,’ said Prudence, somehow seeing easily the rooms he was speaking of. ‘If there were a deep pile to the bedroom carpet,’ she mused, mentally dressing the room in her mind’s eye. ‘And a warm, complementary colour in the furnishings, perhaps a soft, damask rose. I hope there are garden views from the windows?’

‘There are.’ He gave her one of his rare smiles. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘For your assistance.’

She almost asked who the lady was whom he was expecting to occupy such beautiful rooms, but caught herself in time. It would be encroaching to ask such a question. She thought he was a man quite without relations, save his young cousin, but she did not know everything about him, and could not presume. And then a thought darted into her mind that startled her – he was likely planning to put a wife in such rooms. That was perfectly natural. He was a man who had made his fortune and built his house. Mr Shelbourne might say what he liked, but there was no reason why Sir Robert should not wish to marry .

Sir Robert was turning the carriage round. ‘I shall take you back before it grows cold,’ he said.

As he helped her alight from the carriage at Mr Sealy’s door he said, ‘May I drive you again tomorrow? It has put a little colour into your cheeks. I think you are in need of a daily airing.’ He put out a hand as he spoke as though he were going to touch her cheek, but withdrew it again, as if suddenly conscious of what he was doing.

‘I don’t wish to be any trouble,’ she murmured, stifling a sudden desire to snatch back the withdrawn hand.

‘Have I not already said you could never be a source of trouble? Certainly not to me.’

She did not know what to answer him. Their eyes met, she searching his for the meaning of his words. Was it mere gallantry? Avuncular affection? Something else…? He was searching hers likewise. What was he looking for? She could not tell. She hardly dared hope.

He turned to spring into the driving seat. ‘Is two o’clock too early?’ he said, looking down at her. ‘Shall you have fed and watered and cosseted all your household by then?’

‘I shall have a new cook tomorrow,’ she said, suddenly remembering Miss Mason. ‘I shall be ready at two. Thank you, sir.’

‘Until tomorrow,’ he said. She watched him until he was out of sight.

Sir Robert called every day. Each time he returned her to her uncle’s house she expected him to say that he was going home the next day, or had business to call him away, but he did not, and ten happy days passed by. Her letter to Constance, telling her to send the carriage remained unsent .

The arrival of Miss Mason relieved Prudence of the daily cooking but did not contribute to domestic harmony among the staff. The buxom Bessie Mason took a liking for the equally tall and broad Amos, and when a light-hearted, bordering on bawdy, flirtation crept up between them, Lizzy took umbrage and let her feelings be known about it.

Lizzy traded insults with Bessie Mason as skilfully as any Newgate fishwife, as Bessie told her, but Bessie had more sauce than a jug of gravy, as Lizzy put it. The comfortable family feeling that had sprung up between them all the past weeks was now fractured. Even Pip took to keeping out of the kitchens when Bessie was holding fort.

‘I don’t know what to do for the best,’ Prudence confessed to Sir Robert, as he drove her out. ‘Bessie is a very capable cook, I cannot fault her work. She is rather lively, and it is not just Amos she flirts with, she does so with all the delivery men, but they all seem to know her and treat it as sport, so I don’t think she means any harm.’

‘But to have a bad atmosphere in the house is intolerable,’ sympathised Sir Robert. ‘It seems to me that the only person who can put a stop to the nonsense is your fellow Amos.’

‘Do you mean he should take them in hand? Neither of them would take kindly to him telling them what to do. Goodness,’ she said, a sudden vision of Amos in the middle of the indomitable Lizzy and the immovable Bessie. ‘They would tear him limb from limb.’

‘I mean that he must make his mind up.’

‘Between Bessie and Lizzy? He does not feel anything serious for Bessie, I am sure of it.’

‘He must make his mind up to whether or not he wishes to secure this Lizzy, or not. She would not be jealous if she were sure of him. Nothing but misery can come of the uncertainty of half-hearted commitment. Are they engaged?’

‘I do not know,’ said Prudence slowly, considering this. ‘It has been an unsaid assumption for the past four years that they will marry sometime, but nothing has been spoken openly of it. It is not a straightforward matter for them to marry while they are in service.’

‘As I said,’ repeated Sir Robert. ‘Your fellow Amos is the one who must make his mind up one way or the other and settle the matter. There comes a point when a relationship passes beyond ordinary friendship, when a decision must be made. A line crossed. Either the connection must be broken, or…’ The hesitation was slight, but it was enough to make her turn her head to look at him. ‘Or a proposal of marriage made.’ The words hung in the cool air for a moment, then he changed the subject. ‘How do you get on with finding a place for your other young man?’

‘For Mrs Smithyman’s boy? Not very well. It is apparent to me that if a youth is not physically strong enough to be exploited in the quarries or the brewery or the sweeps, or at the beck and call of his masters in service for eighteen hours of the day, he has not many options if he is uneducated.’ She sighed. ‘The world is so full of injustice. No child should do the labour of an adult, and no adult should spend every waking hour labouring and still be unable to escape conditions of poverty.’

‘It does you credit to feel so,’ said Sir Robert.

‘It does little good to merely feel. What is needed is societal change. Children should be educated, not labouring for a pittance. It is only a few degrees above slavery in my opinion. ’

‘I agree,’ said Sir Robert. ‘Though,’ he added, ‘I have seen at first hand some of the worst instances of slavery.’

‘On your travels?’ said Prudence.

He nodded grimly. ‘You are right with regards to the need of education. Education opens opportunities that offer a way out of exploitative labour, for those who will take it.’

‘They cannot have the option of taking it if there is no choice.’

‘You are the kind of young lady who deserves to be fabulously wealthy,’ said Sir Robert.

‘Am I?’ she laughed. ‘I have no such desire, I assure you. Why should I have so much when others have nothing?’

‘Because, you would do good with it. But unfortunately, life is rarely so just.’

‘What do you do with the profits of Beech Park?’ said Prudence, feeling she was being a little daring in asking.

He glanced at her. ‘I invest a large part of it back into the estate to keep things in good order. I feel it is my duty as its steward, however reluctantly I take on that role.’

She dared to press further. ‘You do not give any away in charity?’

‘I give of my own earnings to charity when I see a just cause,’ he replied. ‘But… I dislike the idea of giving away the direct profits of Beech Park.’

He was watching the road now, and she looked at him, studying the stern profile that had become so familiar to her these past weeks, that she no longer generally thought him formidable. But he did look formidable at that moment.

‘Were your father and grandfather so awful to you that you cannot bear anything that comes from your family inheritance? Are you not able to forgive them? ’

He was negotiating a corner, and did not answer immediately. When a straight passage was ahead, he replied bitterly, ‘My family inheritance is tainted beyond forgiveness.’

‘That is a hard judgement,’ she said gently. ‘I should be afraid to make such a one, for we shall all be judged by the judgement we use.’

He shook his head as though to infer that she knew not what she spoke of. She did not pursue it any further. She had enough bad humour to contend with at her uncle’s house, she did not wish to foster it with Sir Robert.

Their daily habit was to walk a quarter of an hour in the park, leaving the horse to be slowly walked by Sir Robert’s tiger. Pip ran ahead, looking for squirrels. Prudence took Sir Robert’s arm, and they walked companionably along, comfortable enough with each other now not to need to talk all the while. They nodded and smiled to several elderly couples whom they saw most days.

‘We have become like an old married couple,’ Sir Robert remarked, looking down at her with the promise of a smile in his eyes.

She encouraged that smile with one of her own. She felt a warm glow despite it being almost the last day of November.

His smiling eyes grew serious as they held hers. ‘But… perhaps that is a ridiculous thing to say. Perhaps such a lovely young woman as yourself would never countenance an old fellow like me as a marriage partner.’

There was a definite question being demanded of her in his expression and in his words. She felt the usual flutter in her stomach that always occurred when something gave her hope that he had feelings akin to her own. She could not stifle the colour that rose to her cheeks, but she maintained his gaze, and chose her words carefully, not wanting any misunderstanding between them.

‘What is ridiculous, sir, is the idea of you being an old fellow.’

‘There are ten years between us.’

‘What does that signify? You are only of age to be a brother, not a father.’

He ceased walking, and as her arm was in his, she stopped also, wondering if he were going to propose. It was an interminable half minute that passed. He was searching her face, as he often did, leaving her with that vulnerable feeling. But she was not afraid of being vulnerable with him. She trusted him. These past days he had become her comforter, her helper, her best friend. She was not sure if he found what he was looking for, for he said nothing, but gave a tight smile, as though restraining himself, and then resumed walking.

She felt a pang of disappointment, but she was habitually attuned to sense rather than sensibility, so she soon recovered herself, though she trembled a little. Lines from Mr Shelbourne’s poems came to her of leaflike tremblings and the nebulous breeze of love drifting just out of reach. She smiled ruefully to herself, for she had never thought it possible that she, Prudence Grace, sensible, grounded, practical and level-headed, could be resonating with second-rate romantic poetry.

‘I should like you to be at liberty to ask anything you wish to know of me, my… Miss Grace,’ said Sir Robert, breaking in on her wry, but not unhappy musings. ‘You asked about my family…’

‘Yes?’ she encouraged when he broke off.

‘I do not harbour unforgiveness. I am not a bitter man.’

‘I never thought you were.’ It was true. She had never detected any bitterness in him, only some mystery surrounding his family affairs that left an air of gravity in him, as though he had not led a life that engendered laughter or joy.

‘I would not wish to distress you with an account of my childhood. I choose to remember that I had a loving mother, and I had many comforts and provisions in my childhood. But my father was not a kind or a gentle man. Nor was his father, either to him or to myself.’

‘And that is why you wish to detach from your inheritance?’

‘No. My memories do cast a shadow over Beech Park. I do not believe I can ever be reconciled to it as my home. My idea of home,’ here he looked at her again, ‘is a place where one lives in harmony with those one loves. Where kindness is the rule, and where peace can be found.’

‘I think so too. Though I trust you do not confuse peace with quietness? For in my idea of home there is the unchecked laughter of children, as well as the inevitable tears and occasional tantrums.’

‘I see we agree perfectly.’

The warm, golden sensation waxed stronger in Prudence’s heart. It might be almost December in the world, with a nipping wind catching at her, but she was floating in summer sunshine, and smiled to herself again at how like one of Mr Shelbourne’s lines that was.

They greeted a passing acquaintance who looked between them and smiled broadly, as though catching the glow they spread about them. Sir Robert continued. ‘I chose to be independent of my inheritance because it all came from sugar beet.’

Prudence blinked up at him, not understanding immediately. ‘Sugar cane?’

‘Plantations.’

‘Do you mean… slave plantations? ’

He nodded.

‘Then I perfectly understand your sentiments.’

He smiled at her, saying softly, ‘The world thinks I am at best eccentric, at worse mad, but I knew you would understand. I wished you to know exactly how things are with me… regarding my income.’

She looked questioningly at him, wondering why he should think she should wish to know about his income, of all things.

‘I do not wish to give any false appearances,’ he said. ‘I can provide a comfortable life by my own investments and business. But the profits of Beech Park make up none of my income, nor do I intend for them to be passed on as an inheritance for… any children I might have.’

She hardly knew how to answer, and as they were now returned to the waiting curricle there was an end of the conversation, but it gave her much to think about as they drove back to Kingsmead Street.

When he left her at the door of her uncle’s house, he said, ‘I have to go away on business that I cannot put off any longer.’

‘Oh, I see,’ she said, trying not to sound as disappointed as she felt. ‘Shall you be gone long?’

‘I shall do my utmost to be back in a week.’

A week sounded endless.

‘Will you promise not to go home before I return?’ he said.

‘I shall still be here in a week, sir.’

He took up her hand. ‘When I return, I should like to ask you something very particular, my dear girl,’ he said softly. He was looking both full of intent and yet also uncertain. She was confirmed in her guess as to why he had been talking of his finances. He was speaking of the level of income he had to offer to a wife .

She stood at a vitally important crossroad. If she did not give him some encouragement, he might withdraw. And though she felt a little afraid of so monumental a change in her life, yet she also knew that she did not want to lose him. Not ever. So she put her other hand, though it trembled ever so slightly, on his and met his eyes.

‘Thank you,’ she said simply and quietly, communicating her understanding and her acceptance of what he was intimating. He inclined his head a little. He was going to kiss her. She wished her stomach wouldn’t keep somersaulting; it was most uncomfortable. Should she let him kiss her, here in the street? But in that moment, she wanted more than anything to receive her first kiss as a seal of what was to come. He drew closer, and then the moment was broken by a loud, cheerful voice calling out, ‘I’m off, miss! There’s mutton stew and dumpling’s keeping warm for you. There’s plenty for tomorrow, on my day off!’

Bessie marched past, having come round by the back entrance. She grinned at the couple on spying their intertwined hands. She winked at Prudence and threw Sir Robert a flirtatious look as she passed by, saying silkily, ‘You should try my hotpot, sir, if you like a bit of tender, tasty flesh with plenty of sauce to keep you warm.’

Sir Robert blinked after her as she sashayed away down the street. He turned back to Prudence, saying, ‘I take back my earlier advice – how can your young manservant make up his mind with such a – I am trying to find as polite a word as possible – with such a forward minx as that in the house?’

‘I will see you in a week sir,’ she said, withdrawing her hand, for she could see the next-door neighbour’s curtains twitching.

‘And when I come back,’ he said, retaining her other hand a moment longer and putting it to his lips. ‘I hope you will cease calling me sir , but call me Robert.’

She shivered again, and he urged her to go in out of the cold. He rapped at the door for her. She did not say that she felt no cold, but gave him one last smile as the door closed between them.

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