Prudence (12 page)

She started back in faint alarm, and her boots slid in the marshy bank beneath her feet. Alarm turned to panic as she tried to regain her balance. Both jar and net went flying, the ground gave below her, and her knees caved in.

Next instant, she was plummeting down and found herself immersed in two feet of water, with black dots scattering in every direction.

U
nable to take in what had happened, Prue remained in a daze for several seconds while the moisture soaked into her garments and crawled icily on to her skin. She became aware of muffled shrieks, and discovered that Lotty and Dodo had succumbed to riotous hilarity.

The creeping cold pushed Prue into action. Plunging both arms into the depths, she heaved herself up under the suddenly hefty weight of her sodden petticoats. The effort to get upon her feet left few dry patches upon the grey Seminary uniform. Prue had never felt so wet in her life.

Aided by the combined strength of the still giggling twins, Prue dragged herself back on to the bank. The chill in the air whipped through her drenched jacket, and she realised that her most pressing need was to return to the house and change her clothes. At which point, she remembered that she was on the wrong side of the pond.

‘Now what am I to do?’

She paid no attention to the vociferous advice of the two girls. For no consideration would she attempt to cross upon the stones again in this condition. Her
clothes felt as if they weighed twice as heavily as normal, and she would undoubtedly fall in again. She looked about with a feeling of growing desperation.

‘Is there no way to get round by land?’

‘’Course not, it’s an island.’

‘You could go in a boat, if we had one.’

‘If we had one,’ Prue repeated flatly.

‘Only we don’t.’

‘No, we don’t,’ Prue agreed.

A shiver took her as the cold seeped into the damp, and she knew she must act at once. She looked across the water. ‘Is it any deeper in the middle?’

The immediate conflicting responses of the twins made it clear that they did not know.

‘After all,’ she told herself, ‘if I am to fall in again, I may as well wade through and avoid that discomfort.’

She decided to brave it, and stepped out gamely into the water, swishing through with difficulty, the twins shrieking instructions and encouragement.

‘Careful, Miss Prue!’

‘You can do it!’

‘Go faster, Miss Prue!’

Go faster? She could not even hold up her petticoats! The wet had penetrated through all the layers beneath, making them too cumbersome to lift.

Ignoring the girlish squeals, she concentrated all her attention upon keeping her feet, hoping that the water would not rise higher than her knees. As she struggled against the pressure of the water, she felt her spirits drooping as heavily as her clothing. It seemed she could do nothing right.

But, miraculously, the bottom of the pond deepened only slightly, and at last she found herself within range of the opposite bank. Relieved, she pulled a trifle fas
ter—and almost went over! Her heart in her mouth, she checked again and thrust through the last few feet, almost falling upon the bank as she reached it.

There was less mud on this side and it was a relatively easy matter to drag herself up. Panting a little, Prue remained only to instruct the twins not to linger, and then began the long trek homeward, walking as quickly as her condition would allow, and dripping puddles as she went.

Halfway across the lawns she spied two figures standing before the house, engaged in discussion. One was a fellow in the homely garb of a workman. The other, to Prue’s immediate consternation, was Mr Rookham.

Prue paused briefly, and a tattoo built up in her veins. Must he be there just as this moment? She had not seen hide nor hair of her employer since the day of Folly’s misadventure. Yet he manifested himself precisely when she would most wish to have avoided meeting him. Was it not just like Mr Rookham to make so inopportune an arrival?

Well, there was nothing to be done about it. She was both cold and distressingly damp, and she had to get to the house as speedily as possible. She must brave his inevitable amusement.

Holding her head high, she struggled on, more than ever aware of her dripping garments. Her pulses skittered as she saw Mr Rookham turn, and knew that he had spotted her. He paused, staring for a moment as if he was unsure whether his eyes deceived him. To Prue’s dismay, he began to stroll towards her, leaving the workman standing.

Prue’s legs ceased to move, seemingly of their own volition. Mr Rookham approached steadily. In a few
strides, he was within several feet of her. Prue saw his expression change, and he slowed, his gaze raking her person from head to foot. He stopped directly in her path, and that quirk appeared at his mouth.

‘Dare I ask, I wonder?’

Prue had endured much without complaint, but there was a limit. ‘Is it not obvious? I fell into the pond! And before you find a way to amuse yourself at my expense, sir, pray take notice that I am far from enjoying the circumstance.’

His smile was sympathetic. ‘What happened? Have you been attempting one of your heroic rescues?’

‘No, I have not,’ stated Prue crossly. ‘If you must have it, I was attempting to catch tadpoles with the twins. Only as usual, my ineptitude caused me to make a complete fool of myself. Now you may laugh if you choose!’

‘I don’t choose, so you may stop ripping up at me!’ But the amused quiver came again. ‘Only do tell me. What precise educational activity were you engaged in? It is not usual to trouble the heads of girls with science.’

Prue positively glared at him. ‘It was not educational. I had given the girls a holiday, to reward them for being good all week. Only they chose to catch tadpoles, so—’

‘So you felt yourself obliged to join them. I see. Well, if you take my advice, you will in future remain upon the sidelines and let them do the catching.’

‘Thank you,’ said Prue with awful politeness. ‘I am in dire need of such advice.’

Julius laughed. ‘My dear Miss Hursley, that remark is almost worthy of my own attempts at sarcasm.’ He threw up a hand as the governess opened her mouth to
retort. ‘Don’t waste your breath! You would be better employed in changing your clothes than bandying words with me.’

He was rewarded, to his secret triumph, with a fulminating look, but Miss Hursley chose retreat. He watched her almost stamping her way up towards the side door of the house, and congratulated himself on having raised her spirits.

She had looked altogether woebegone at the moment he had encountered her—a state of affairs he had discovered to be unsettling. Indeed, almost every encounter with the girl had a deleterious effect upon him, he decided, as he started back to where Hessle awaited him.

But as he resumed his discourse with the head gardener, his mind dwelled obstinately upon the picture of the governess in her dilapidated state. He could not deny that he had been amused—the more so when she attacked him!—but a feeling of guilt crept over him. She must have been cold to the bone. He should not have kept her talking.

He hoped to God she would take care to warm up thoroughly. Had she enough sense of herself to do what was needful? Julius doubted it. Had he not caught her that first night writing in the cold of the schoolroom?

Abruptly concerned, he cut in upon Hessle’s long-winded explanation of his scheme for the treillage garden.

‘Never mind that now! I have something I must do at once. We will talk of it later.’

Ignoring the fellow’s astonished look, he broke quickly away and went into the house, banging straight through the green baize door, and shouting for his housekeeper. She emerged from her sitting-room, look
ing astonished. Julius ignored this, and waved away several other servants who came popping out of the kitchen quarters.

‘Polmont, I need you!’

He exited back into the hall, and turned there, finding his housekeeper immediately at his back.

‘What is amiss, sir?’

‘Miss Hursley has had the misfortune to fall into the pond,’ he disclosed without preamble. ‘She has gone up to change, but I desire that you will arrange for her to have a bath. Make sure she warms herself thoroughly, and that she puts on clean, dry clothes. Have you understood me?’

He received her customary nod, and a prim curtsy. ‘Certainly, Mr Rookham.’

‘Well, don’t stand there! Go up to her at once and tell her to prepare for it, and then set about it immediately.’

The housekeeper set off up the stairs, but Julius suddenly bethought him of Prudence’s ill temper, and called her back.

‘Just a moment!’

She paused. ‘Sir?’

‘If Miss Hursley should object or make any difficulties, inform her, if you please, that these are my orders. And send Yvette down to keep an eye on the girls in her stead.’

He watched Polmont hurry away, feeling that he had done much to atone both for his laughter and his earlier neglect. But he could not help a sneaking amusement at the thought of Miss Hursley’s probable reaction. She would be astonished, he dared say, and possibly as cross as crabs. Only she would not advertise it to her employer!

She was far too conscious of her position to attack him without immediate provocation. It was only when she was face to face with him that he was able to break through that pervasive humility. It was infinitely pleasurable to startle her out of it. He should not do it, but the temptation was irresistible. And it had led him, to his annoyance, to cross the boundary of correct propriety.

A circumstance of which Miss Hursley herself was become all too wary. He knew it, and had kept out of her way on purpose. For in her presence he was conscious of so vivid a sense of kinship that he found himself too ready to forget the gap that lay between them. And the instant he did or said anything that might be construed as a form of intimacy, Miss Hursley showed herself to be ‘Prudence’ indeed.

He heard footsteps above him, together with a telltale muttering. Looking up, he perceived the little Frenchwoman tripping down the stairs. She had wrapped herself in a voluminous black woollen cloak against the vagaries of the English weather.

‘Ah, Yvette, good. Miss Hursley is temporarily in-disposed. I desire you to go and ensure that the twins don’t follow her example.’

‘Bah! Zey do not fall,
ces enfants
,’ announced Yvette in a grumbling way. ‘Ze
gouvernante
, she ’ave ze mind in ze sky.
Qu’elle est folle
!’

Julius let this pass, and merely adjured her to hurry out to her charges, himself making his way back to his library.

But the nurse’s disparaging remarks irked him. Could she not see beyond the physical? Yes, Prudence was unhandy and inept. She knew it herself! Had she not said so? Yet to Julius, she had qualities of greater
worth than mere physical prowess. Why should she be judged only on her appearance and an unfortunate lack of coordination of hand and eye? Not to say head and eye on occasion, recalling the girl’s original contretemps with his carriage in Leatherhead.

Although his nieces had apparently moderated their ideas of their governess. Did she not say that they had been good all week? A miracle! Then Miss Hursley was more successful than she knew. He must remember to congratulate her.

The warmth of the water was soothing, and all trace of that sensation of damping cold had left Prue’s body. The bedchamber felt like a hothouse, what with the roaring fire before which had been set the tin bath she was currently occupying. The maidservant, who had hovered with another of the big jugs, ready to add more hot water, had left the room in response to an instruction from the housekeeper relayed by one of her colleagues.

Left alone, Prue gave herself up to the wonderfully new sensation of being pampered, allowing thoughts to drift dreamily through her mind.

It was odd how wetness could feel this good in her changed circumstances. Only a short time ago she had experienced excessive discomfort from the saturated garments clinging to her legs. It had been difficult to remove them. Indeed, she was inclined to believe that she might yet have been struggling to extricate herself had it not been for Mrs Polmont’s timely arrival.

The housekeeper had knocked just when Prue had managed to drag off her jacket and was fighting with the strings of her grey petticoats, which had become
tangled into an impossible knot. Prue had been fired with hope of rescue.

‘Pray, who is there?’

‘Mrs Polmont, ma’am.’

Relieved, Prue had instantly desired her to enter, and begged for her help. For several moments, the housekeeper had been fully occupied in wrestling with the recalcitrant knot. Once the petticoat was freed, she had begun assisting Prue to remove it.

‘I can manage now, I thank you.’

At which, Mrs Polmont had dropped her bombshell, stunning Prue into amazed silence.

‘I am here to help you, Miss Hursley. It is at the master’s orders.’ She had crossed to the bell-pull and tugged it vigorously. ‘I will set the maids to prepare your bath.’

Prue had blinked. A bath? At Mr Rookham’s orders? And she had lost her temper with him! Her conscience smote her, warring with a glowing sensation of warmth in her bosom. How kind and thoughtful was this man—and towards a mere governess!

In a daze, she had allowed the housekeeper to assist her to remove her clothing, and had towelled herself dry and wrapped up in her dressing-gown while Mrs Polmont had conferred with the maid who came in answer to the bell.

Presently there had come a procession of young females bearing a tin bath, a screen, and a succession of jugs. The girl Maggie had presented her with a glass of warm milk, which she had drunk, watching with pleasurable anticipation the steam beginning to rise from the bath.

Too grateful to make the slightest objection, Prue had allowed herself to be bustled into the tub of deli
ciously hot water, wondering uneasily whether she was asleep and dreaming.

Such luxury as this had never come in her way. Bath day at the Seminary had been a mad scramble among some fifteen other girls, each determined to secure a favourable share of the limited supply of hot water. It had been quite as humid, crowded into the little round bath-house in a chattering profusion of girlish giggles and shrieking demands for the soap. But to lie at her ease in this fashion, to be waited upon hand and foot, must be outside the realms of reality.

The doorlatch clicked, and Prue looked round to see that Mrs Polmont had re-entered the room. She approached the bath, and stood looking down at Prue, the parrot look pronounced.