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

Chapter 27

27

Christmas day began with a church service at St James’s followed by a Christmas dinner at the house of Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom. It was a pleasure to Prudence to see her godmother basking in matrimonial happiness.

‘Marriage is a delightful state,’ Mrs Ramsbottom confided to her as they took tea that evening. ‘Do not be like me, dear Prudence, and let so many long and lonely years go by. Oh, if only I had not let Anthony go when I was young. If only I’d had resolution, as Louisa is always telling me I lack, and had refused to give him up, then we should not have lost more than twenty years of happiness.’

Prudence smiled wistfully at her godmother, glad to see that although she still dressed in girlish white muslin and tulle, she no longer clutched her smelling salts in a state of simmering anxiety.

‘There is only one disagreeable thing about marriage,’ confessed Mrs Ramsbottom, leaning closer to speak in a lowered tone. ‘And that is the notion that all married women must wear caps.’ She patted her augmented ringlets, woven through with pink ribbons. ‘Fortunately, dearest Anthony does not care for caps either. I do not care a fig for what Louisa says about my not acting my age. I think she is only jealous because my hair has not any grey as hers does.’

‘That, dear ma’am, demonstrates that you do have resolution, where you choose to.’

‘I do when I have the support of my Anthony.’ Mrs Ramsbottom threw a glowing look across the drawing room at her husband who was engaged in captivating little Alex’s attention with a collection of carved elephants and other exotic animals native to India. ‘But I do wish, my dear,’ said Mrs Ramsbottom, patting Prudence on the knee, ‘that you will find a man half as good as Anthony. And if you do, you must not let him get away, as I did. Do you promise?’

‘If I find myself in such a situation, ma’am, I promise to remember what you advise.’

‘Be sure you do. And a little bird does tell me that a certain Mr Cavendish and Mr Hamilton are quite taken with you. Either man would make a very good husband, for they are both prodigiously wealthy, and I know you will tell me that money is not everything, for you are not an expensive girl and never was, not like dear Charity, yet it is very pleasant to have a husband who can make one very comfortable and give one delightful gifts.’

‘But you forget,’ said Prudence. ‘That I am quite independent now, ma’am. I shall have as much comfort as I require.’

‘But there is the managing of it, which is so very tedious and so very bewildering. Louisa says I have no head for managing money, and I have to agree with her on that point, for I always found myself in a muddle where my accounts were concerned.’

Another loving look was cast in the direction of Mr Ramsbottom who was demonstrating a credible example of a lion’s roar.

‘It is only a pity that Lord Cole has had his head turned by your pretty friend,’ added Mrs Ramsbottom. ‘For he is the best looking of the three most eligible bachelors this season. But she is a great beauty, to be sure. It is a pity that you should have a friend that is such a rival on the marriage mart.’

Prudence assured her that Miss Kimpshott could never be viewed by herself as a rival, and that she had no interest in Lord Cole or Mr Hamilton or Cavendish.

‘None at all?’ Mrs Ramsbottom was surprised. ‘But they are the cream of the crop. But is it that Mr Shelbourne that you have a tendre for? I hear you spent a good deal of time with him in Bath, and he followed you here directly. He seems a decent young man, to be sure. I have not heard anything bad about him, and I like his looks excessively, and I think it very romantic that he should write poems, but he has no real fortune, I understand, but only a comfortable inheritance.’

‘Mr Shelbourne is a good friend, and nothing more, ma’am. And it is not myself he followed to London, it is Miss Kimpshott.’

‘I met his cousin at Clemmy’s the other day,’ said her godmother.

‘Oh?’ said Prudence, taking a very long sip at her teacup.

‘An odd fellow.’

‘Odd? In what way?’

‘To be a man of title and family and wealth, and yet to hold it all in such disdain. And to go into trade rather than enjoy one’s inheritance.’ She shook her head. ‘I cannot understand it. I dare say he is a handsome man, but not in my style. I like a man with an open nature. I like a man with an amiable disposition, none of that Byronic brooding style for me.’

‘Sir Robert is a man of conscience,’ said Prudence quietly, watching Mr Ramsbottom holding an ivory tusk to his forehead in demonstration of a rhinoceros. ‘He is perfectly amiable when one becomes acquainted with him. And he shares not an iota of similarity with Lord Byron, I assure you.’

‘I dare say you know better than I. But I thought him quite formidable. Almost as bad as Louisa.’ She swayed nearer again, saying kindly, ‘My advice, dear, is to pick Oliver Cavendish. Clemmy and I are in perfect agreement that he is the best suitor for you, and we shall do all we can to encourage the match. And I will tell you another thing, my dear – when you are married, I shall loan you the beautiful lace veil I wore at my own wedding, for there is nothing like it.’

She leaned back again looking kindly at her goddaughter. ‘You shall look excessively pretty in ivory lace. Now do try these sweetmeats. They are an Indian receipt. I do not care for curries, horrible things that burn one’s mouth, but I like the sweets excessively. Are they not delightful?’

Once the seasonal festivities were over, and London society retreated behind their manor houses to escape the January cold and the bouts of fog, Prudence began to be busy. She wrote letters and pored over legal papers and documents, went out to make business calls that she wished to be private, and received regular calls from Mr Rowlinson Senior and Mr Fidler the Younger, and from her bank manager.

She spent so much time in the library with her correspondence and papers that it was the first room everyone looked into when seeking her out. Charity tried in vain to discourage her from this work, but Prudence would not be dissuaded.

‘It is very important, Chari,’ she said. ‘There are many persons and livelihoods affected by the properties I am now responsible for. I have a good deal of arrangements to make.’

‘That is what property managers and secretaries and solicitors are for,’ argued Charity.

‘In time I will have people I trust managing things for me. But I wish to understand it all for myself first, and there are many decisions to make.’

‘You are supposed to be enjoying a long rest after all those horrid months in Bath.’

Prudence stifled a smile at the idea of anyone resting in Charity’s house. Even as they spoke, Charity standing at the door of the library while Prudence was seated at the desk, there came the sound of shrieking and barking and something thudding on the floor above.

‘Leon is teaching Alex battledore,’ explained Charity.

‘In the dining room?’

‘The table makes a good court.’

Prudence enquired no further. She could well imagine the scene.

‘If only this dreadful weather would lift,’ sighed Charity. ‘Alex cannot play in the park in such weather, and I cannot ride out in the mornings. I would give anything for a good gallop.’ She moved to the window to look out at the dismal grey beyond. ‘It has been pleasant to see everyone in town,’ she said broodingly, ‘but I confess I am growing homesick. I long for my horses and green fields. To think how I used to love the hurly burly of town life, and now I feel hemmed in by buildings and this wretched fog. ’

She turned round and bounded to the desk saying eagerly, ‘Let us go! We can set off early tomorrow and be at Hartley in two days!’

Prudence looked up from her paperwork. ‘I care for town as little as you, but I cannot leave yet. I have so much to arrange. But I assure you I can manage very well on my own for a few weeks, though I shall miss you.’

‘Oh, fiddle, as if I would leave you here alone.’ Charity’s mood sank again.

‘Allow me to finish my letters,’ bartered Prudence, ‘and when I’m done, we’ll go to Hookham’s and get the newest novels. That will give you an occupation until the bad weather lifts. But we must walk, for I don’t care to drive out in this fog. There are too many collisions.’

Charity agreed, but only with the added compromise that her sister join her for luncheon in half an hour, and then she left her sister to her papers.

‘What exactly are your plans?’ Charity enquired, as they sat at luncheon with Captain Hart. ‘What are you going to do with all your money? I know what I should do with a quarter of a million,’ she said dreamily. ‘I should set up a racing stable like Mrs Codd-Phelps and have my own racing track. Would that not be a capital scheme?’

Her husband was in ready agreement as usual. ‘We would travel to Arabia, and seek out the finest horses,’ he said.

‘Like Lady Hester Stanhope!’ said Charity, her hazel eyes shining as she imagined herself in male attire, travelling through remote and foreign lands. ‘Perhaps we shall find a hoard of gold, as she did.’

‘But perhaps you will never return home to England, as she has not,’ added Prudence. ‘It is said she lives in the mountains of Lebanon now. ’

‘Are there elephants in Lebanon?’ asked Charity. ‘Alex is grown obsessed with elephants since Christmas.’

‘I thought we were going to Arabia in search of thoroughbreds, not elephants?’ said Leon.

The conversation was spiralling into nonsense, as it often did in the Hart house, so Prudence ended the fantasy by saying, ‘I intend to establish a school. A charitable school that will provide children with education and training so they can make a good living in the world, and not be trapped in the poverty of their parents.’

Charity considered this. ‘It would cost a great deal a year to run a school without fee paying students.’

‘And she has many thousands a year to fund many such schemes,’ her husband reminded her.

‘Connie would like that plan,’ concluded Charity. ‘Shall it be near Lindford?’

‘No.’ Prudence mentally took a deep breath. She was not certain how much resistance she would generate by the revelation of her next decision. ‘I intend to settle in the Bath area.’

Charity stared at her. ‘On your own?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you have no family in Bath. I imagined we would go on as we are. You dividing your time between Lindford and Hartley. I did not think everything would change in such a dismal way.’

Prudence hated the look of dismay in her sister’s eyes. ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘If you dislike my scheme, with all your own inclinations for independence and unconventionality, I am in dread of Constance’s reaction.’

‘Tell her, Leon,’ demanded Charity. ‘Tell her that she cannot live alone in Bath. It is the most preposterous notion.’

‘Prudence is neither a simpleton nor a girl,’ said Leon. ‘ I would guess a deal of thought has gone into what seems a sudden notion.’

‘It has,’ said Prudence, giving him a grateful look for his support.

‘Don’t encourage her,’ Charity flashed.

Leon got up from the table saying in an amicable tone, ‘I think I shall leave you to a sisterly talk. I’m going to stroll down to my old club to meet some friends.’

‘Would you escort us to Bond Street on your way?’ said Prudence, eager to avoid a sisterly talk at present. ‘Charity and I wish to visit the library.’

‘Of course.’

‘Don’t think you can palm me off so easily,’ warned Charity.

‘Do not think you will change my mind,’ replied Prudence gently. ‘Leon is right. I have given a great deal of thought to my plans.’

‘What other plans are you hatching?’

‘Nothing else at present, I promise. I have more than enough to occupy myself with for now.’

‘I thought you would marry that nice Mr Cavendish. His estate is barely forty miles from Hartley.’

‘Mr Cavendish is a prig,’ said Prudence.

This unexpected pronouncement from the kindly Prudence made Charity burst into laughter. ‘Oh, I suppose he is,’ she admitted.

‘Well I don’t care to have priggish men thrust upon me, so no more of your matchmaking attempts, if you please.’

‘Mr Hamilton is not a prig,’ argued her sister.

‘No, he is an empty-headed dandy.’

Charity laughed again. ‘I never thought to hear you speak so. You are usually worse than Constance for being diplomatic.’

‘I would only speak so openly with you. Constance is just like Mama, so very gracious and ladylike. But I recall that Papa was plain speaking. I may not have inherited as much of his forthrightness as you have, but I have some of it.’

Charity sobered and reached across the table for her sister’s hand. ‘You, dear, have all the best parts of Mama and Papa. I fear I have all the faults. I’m sorry if I’ve vexed you. I pledge to be a support to you in your plans.’

‘Thank you. I shall need all your support when Constance hears what I’m going to do.’

Charity regarded her sister closely for some moments. ‘Pru, are you happy?’

Prudence was startled by this question. She was dabbing at her mouth with her napkin, having finished her last bite of luncheon. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Ever since we arrived in London – no, before we arrived, before we left Bath – you have seemed not quite yourself. I thought it merely tiredness from nursing Mr Sealy for so long, but I suspect it is something more.’

Prudence did not reply immediately, for she was finishing the last of her tea, taking a slow sip to delay answering the question.

‘Did you fall in love in Bath?’

The tea cup clattered in the saucer. ‘What has put such a notion as that into your head?’

‘Then why are you blushing? I knew it. It’s Shelbourne, isn’t it? Who else could it be? I know from your letters that you saw him constantly. But the silly fool has fallen for Miss Kimpshott’s pretty face. It’s all nonsense of course, all his poetic mutterings. She’s nothing more than a muse to him. He does not see her as a real woman at all. I must say I am surprised, for he is not at all the kind of man I would have thought you would choose.’

‘Oh, Chari, you are talking as much nonsense as he ever does. I am not, never have been, nor ever will be in love with Mr Shelbourne. Let’s get our coats and hats. Leon will be waiting.’

‘You would tell me, wouldn’t you?’

Prudence had stood up. She paused a moment, her hand on the back of her chair. It was not in her nature to lie, but it was taking an enormous amount of self control and effort to keep herself outwardly calm these days. She feared that if she spoke of her painful disappointment over Sir Robert, all her careful construction of this wall of normalcy, behind which she was nursing a sore heart, would crumble. She could not bear to have Charity pity her, or worse, be indignant against Sir Robert on her behalf and abuse him. It was a horrible feeling, this loss of openness between herself and her sibling, it made her feel lonely. But she could not talk about her disappointment. Not yet. Not while everything was still so raw.

‘Chari,’ she said, with great effort to sound as she usually did. ‘You know how much I have always objected to the idea of falling in love, rather than choosing to love someone. But if I do meet with someone I choose to love who likewise chooses me, you shall be the first to hear of it.’

Charity had to be satisfied with this answer, and followed her from the room.