Prudence (14 page)

Julius had interrupted the session, requesting to know why, if she must read them fairy tales instead of some improving work, she should have chosen one particularly revolting?

‘What a tale with which to frighten the ears of innocent girls!’

Miss Hursley had reddened, as if she thought him to be seriously displeased. Before he could investigate this further, the twins had broken in.

‘But we like it, Uncle Julius!’

‘Yes, it’s ’citing,’ said the other, capturing the kitten who was attacking the stationary berry. ‘Not like that stupid
Sleeping Beauty.
’

‘No, or
Cinderella
. They’re noodles.’

‘
Red Riding Hood
was good, only I think the wolf should have swallowed her up!’

Julius eyed them with disfavour. ‘What a disgusting pair you are! Miss Hursley, I withdraw my remarks. I perceive that you are less at fault than I had supposed.’

But the governess had remained apparently chastened. Barely glancing at him, she had answered, in so submissive a fashion that he had hardly recognised her.

‘If it is your wish, sir, I will read them no more such fairy stories.’

He had not taken in the gist of the protests that erupted from the throats of his indignant nieces, for he had been staring at Miss Hursley in perplexity. Julius had found himself responding in a depressingly stiff fashion, which in no way expressed the disappointment that he felt.

‘If it is what Lotty and Dodo enjoy, far be it from me to cavil. Do just as you see fit, if you please.’

With which, he had turned on his heel and retired, baffled, and subject to an unpalatable annoyance. He could find no reason for her altered attitude towards him, but it had preyed upon his mind so that he had paid a visit to the schoolroom at a time when he might reasonably expect to find the governess working by herself. His nieces, whose natural vivacity had not long been buried by his displeasure, had told him in one of their expansive moments that Miss Hursley was to be found there before dinner.

She had been seated at her desk, but had jumped up at his entrance, shifting quickly away to the window. Julius had paused by the door, feeling an unreasoning hurt. He knew he had spoken curtly.

‘What is the matter?’

Miss Hursley had given him an odd little smile, and turned away to stroke the kitten. A ploy to avoid him, he was persuaded. She had sounded—yes, bleak.

‘Nothing is the matter, sir.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, quite.’

And there the subject had closed for a moment. She had volunteered nothing more, and he had not known what to say. Constraint had yawned between them. He
had been in the throes of making up his mind to tackle her more directly, but she had suddenly cleared her throat.

‘Would you care to see an item of the girls’ work, sir?’

A bright voice, but metallic in quality. False. So patently false! Why?
Why
was she behaving like this?

But he had been unable to form the words to demand an explanation, and the next moment, Miss Hursley had picked up two articles and moved to present them for his inspection, Folly frolicking at her feet.

Julius had taken them mechanically, staring blankly at a pair of ill-sewn hearts made out of red felt, and stuffed.

‘Pin cushions,’ she had told him helpfully.

He had given a short laugh. ‘Heart-shaped? How in Hades did you persuade them to work upon so sentimental a project?’

A faint shadow of her former manner had emerged in a swift little smile that briefly lit her face. ‘I told them they were blood red because they had been cut out of murdered victims.’

‘Good God, Prudence! You are as unprincipled as my nieces!’

She had looked at him with the air of a startled fawn. Then she had snatched back the hearts and restored them to their place upon the table to one side. Catching up the kitten, she had dropped a curtsy, her tone lowered.

‘If you will forgive me, sir, I must not be late for dinner.’

Julius had stepped aside and allowed her to leave the room, attacked by an acute sense of outrage.

Thereafter, he had seen her only at a distance now
and then. Except at church on Sunday. But he had made it a rule to maintain protocol on such occasions—for her sake. To bring Miss Hursley into public attention could only serve to make her the subject of local gossip.

But it was too bad that he could not bear to approach her in his own home, risking another rebuff. She had rebuffed him! What ailed her to be treating him to this tactic of distancing?

For the life of him, he could not accuse himself of having said or done anything to anger or distress her. On the contrary, had he not shown himself to be sympathetic to her difficulties—even interested? Was there not a natural empathy between them? He had thought so at least, and it had seemed as if Miss Hursley shared his belief.

To his chagrin, he felt aggrieved by her altered attitude. The more so because it was clear that the twins had taken her to their hearts. They might treat her to derision when she attempted to emulate their prowess at various games, but there had been no repeat of those efforts deliberately to tease her into reaction.

A guilty pang smote him. Had he not done exactly that? Was it perhaps his habit of teasing her into retort that had finally driven her to repudiate him? No, he would not believe that. For despite her cross remarks, she had been amused on occasion. Or had he entirely mistaken her? Perhaps she had not derived enjoyment in the encounters.

However it was, the absence of that hitherto friendly badinage gnawed at him. He began to wish that his sister might fulfil her intent of finding herself a husband. It was unlikely that she would approve Miss Hursley, for it was debatable whether his nieces were
learning anything useful. Fairy stories and pin cushions were unlikely to equip them as accomplished brides in the admittedly distant future.

But whether Trixie intended to keep the wench or not, Julius at least would be free of her pervasive presence in his house. It was distinctly odd how a person could imprint their personality upon every part of a place, despite being physically confined to one area.

Sighing, Julius pulled his papers towards him and made another attempt to concentrate his attention upon the work in hand. He had just managed to absorb himself in the task, when a sudden battering on the door was succeeded by the entry into the room of Miss Prudence Hursley herself, out of breath and looking decidedly anxious.

‘Pray help me, Mr Rookham! I have lost them!’

It had not been with unmixed emotions that Prue had sought out her employer. She was all too aware of having alienated him with that new reticence she had shown towards him. It had been necessary to remind herself that her object had been to distance him. Only she had not bargained for the distress it would occasion in her own breast.

But the twins having disappeared without trace, her natural instinct had been to rush to Mr Rookham for aid. Having entered the house by the side door, and deposited Folly in her parlour, she had sped along the corridor, her agitation overlaid with apprehension—and a curious feeling of relief. She could not blame herself for this meeting!

Mr Rookham jumped up immediately upon her entrance, his nose jutting out strongly, a frown upon his brow.

‘Don’t be absurd!’ he barked. ‘You cannot have lost them. I dare say they are hiding from you.’

Prue hesitated in the middle of the room, eyeing him with wary dismay. His manner was altogether unfriendly.

‘Perhaps they may be,’ she ventured, ‘but still I cannot find them.’

‘I thought you were playing at battledore and shuttlecock. How have they evaded you?’

There was no diminution of the severity of his expression, and Prue’s pulse began to beat in an uneven tattoo. She wondered vaguely how he had known that, and did not realise that she entwined her fingers together as she spoke.

‘They tired of the game, for I was no match for either of them. And then they chose to play at hide-and-go-seek and—’

‘Ah! I said they were hiding from you, did I not?’

‘Yes, but they were not—not from me,’ uttered Prue desperately. ‘They were hiding from each other. Or so I thought. I kept my eye all the time upon the one who was searching, and they answered me when I called. Then I heard a cry—and then silence. I called and called, but there was no reply. What am I to think but that some misadventure has befallen them?’

Julius set his teeth. She was wearing that vulnerable look, and he was not going to let himself be touched by it! Nevertheless, he could not ignore such an appeal.

‘Very well, we will go and look for them,’ he said, crossing past her to the door. ‘But I will lay you ten to one that they are merely playing one of their tricks.’

He opened the door, and gestured for her to precede him. He felt her constraint as much as his own as they
went in silence to the front door and out into the gardens. He halted.

‘Which way?’

‘They were near your treillage garden,’ Prue answered, starting off in that direction.

‘Oh, were they?’ came grimly from Mr Rookham.

‘Pray don’t scold them for it,’ begged Prue, turning her head briefly. ‘They did not go inside.’

‘Well for them!’

Prue said nothing, feeling all the weight of his displeasure to be directed at herself rather than his nieces. There was no mistaking his mood, for his tone was as gruff and ill-tempered as he had shown himself that far-off day when she had first arrived at Rookham Hall. Instinct led her to keep her tongue, for she felt him to be dangerous.

With Julius in the lead, they started out through the laburnum tunnel and, by devious ways unknown to Prue, arrived at the treillage garden.

‘Nothing here,’ he said, having made a circuit around the trelliswork. He checked at the entrance. ‘One moment.’

Prue watched him go inside, and heard immediately the deep notes of men talking. In a moment, Mr Rookham came out again, accompanied by two gardeners.

‘Strike out towards the forest, Pudsey. And you, Garth, go and fetch Hessle from the rose garden, and the two of you cover the west side. I will take the upper portion here, including the Wilderness.’

The men nodded, and went off in separate directions. Julius watched them go, and then turned back to Miss Hursley.

‘That should do it. Among the five of us, we should discover the little minxes soon enough.’

A measure of relief lessened a little of Prue’s agitation. ‘Ought we to call, do you think?’

‘We will only alert them, if they are determined to hide.’

‘But they won’t hide from you, sir,’ Prue pointed out.

Julius looked at her. He had not meant to say anything, but it slipped out before he could control the words.

‘Unlike you?’

She flinched, looking away. ‘Where should we go next?’

Her evasion touched him on the raw. ‘Don’t turn the subject! At least have the grace to answer me.’

Prue’s lip trembled, and her heart felt as if it skipped several beats. She did not dare raise her eyes to his face.

‘I cannot answer you.’

There was a pause. The silence seemed to pulse between them. Julius willed himself to hold back the tide of protest battering at his tongue. He turned back into the path.

‘This way.’

The hammering in Prue’s breast subsided a trifle, and she followed him towards a rise of curved stone steps, flanked by a fall of herbiage over the containing walls. At the top, the scene opened into a wide plain where a central portion was an ungainly mix of turned earth and rubble.

Julius saw the direction of her gaze, and felt impelled to explain it. ‘There will be a maze here. I call it the Rockery, which is what it used to be.’

He pointed to where the edges of the garden rose in a graduated slope, dotted with coloured rocks where the greenery was interwoven. Here and there a few buds had opened, showing promise of a variety of colour.

Prue glanced at it but briefly. ‘Yes, the girls told me that gardening is your passion.’

‘I must show you a few of my designs some time.’

She looked back to find the steel eyes upon her. Involuntarily, she smiled. ‘I should like that.’

Light flashed in his gaze, and Prue abruptly recollected herself—and their mission. She turned quickly away, and her eyes swept an arc about the garden. There was nowhere to hide.

‘They are not here.’

‘Obviously. We are only passing through.’

He headed off again, his pace quickening. Prue followed, stricken to silence again by the coldness of his tone. She began to wish she had not enlisted his aid. Only she had not known that he would show himself to be disturbed by her withdrawal. She could not prevent a stupid sort of elation from rising in her breast.

The way led them along a winding wall, traced with a climbing plant, and thence into a place she recognised the instant she saw the well. Here, indeed, were trees and shrubs enough to conceal a pair of determined children.

But Mr Rookham did not immediately set about a hunt among the various potential hiding places. He moved slowly to the well, and leaned upon the wall, looking down into its depths. Wondering if he supposed the children might have fallen in, Prue ran up to the edge, and peered in also.

‘Surely they are too big to have got down there?’

Julius straightened abruptly. ‘Can’t you forget those wretched girls for a moment?’

The grey eyes widened. ‘But that is why we are here.’

‘I know it.’

His glance locked with hers, and there was a breathless pause. All thought of his nieces went right out of his head. Without volition, he spoke the thought in his mind.

‘What has happened, Prudence? What have I done?’

T
he words were softly uttered, and Prue’s will died. She could not bear to hurt him further. And Mr Rookham was hurt!

‘Nothing, upon my honour! It is not you, sir, but I who am to blame.’

Julius heard the words, but it was the husky note in her voice that acted upon him. The well was between them, but he reached out and caught at her hand. His demand was urgent.

‘What is it then, that you have done? Tell me, for I am at a loss to understand.’

She tried to pull her fingers out of his hold. The grip tightened. ‘Pray let me go, sir.’

‘Only if you promise not to run away from me.’

Prue shook her head. ‘I will not run.’

Still he did not release her. ‘And you’ll explain?’

‘I will try.’

He let her go, and she seized the fingers in her other hand, feeling them tingle. Her heartbeat was uneven, her mouth dry. But she had promised, and she had to speak out.

‘Well?’

Prue flicked a glance at him, daunted once more by the renewed curtness in that one word. She sank down upon the edge of the well so that she need no longer face him.

‘You see, I have forgotten my position, sir.’

Julius felt an instant stab of conscience. If she had forgotten her position, then so had he. Was it that which had made her so shy of him? He shot the words at her.

‘You are not the only one. But what of it? Why should you not enjoy a little friendly conversation? Why should not I?’

She would not look at him. He noted the faint flush in her cheeks. Her voice was pitched low.

‘I am a governess, sir. It is not fitting that I encroach upon my position. It can give rise to—to—’

To his own dismay, anger flooded him. He tried to speak without showing it, and signally failed.

‘To what? Give rise to what?’

Prue’s eyes shot up, and her tone strengthened. ‘To misconceptions, Mr Rookham!’

‘Upon your part, I suppose. Or is it mine?’ He flung away. ‘I see what you are at! I knew it. I have known it all along.’

His gaze turned back upon her, and Prue blenched at the fierce look of him. Just like a hawk! With that jutting nose and those steely eyes. All gentleness was gone.

‘I am too familiar, am I not, Miss Hursley? I wonder what I am after? Could it be that I am scheming to ensnare you? Are you now the object of my lusts?’

Colour flew into her cheeks, and she rose hastily from her perch. He took it that she meant to fly from him, and strode quickly over to seize her arm.

‘No, you don’t, my good girl! I will not suffer you to remove from here until I have your answer.’

‘Let go of me!’

The tone was vibrant, for Prue was quite as furious as he. But he did not release her. He towered over her, as dangerous as he had been at the first moment of their meeting when she had run in front of his carriage.

‘Is it what you think? Is it?’

Prue threw it at him, wholly defensive. ‘Yes, if you must know! Only I would never have spoken of it in terms so disgracefully indelicate.’

Julius fairly flung her from him. ‘I thank you for your intelligent reading of my character, but I beg to inform you that I am not yet reduced to such straits!’

Prue crumbled inside, and did not know how her eyes were instantly stricken. But Julius saw it, and the entirety of his fury collapsed. He threw out a hand, gripped by remorse.

‘I didn’t mean that! I was angry—outraged—I didn’t know what I was saying.’

Her lip quivered, and that haunting little smile appeared. ‘You need not apologise, sir. You have mirrored my own thoughts.’

He knew not what to say. She was unbearably hurt, and he had no means to undo the harm. He struggled to put his thoughts into words.

‘Miss Hursley, this has been all a mistake. You must know how much enjoyment I have had in your company—brief as those moments have been. If I led you to suppose I am one of that brotherhood who take advantage of females in your situation, I cannot sufficiently regret it. I never meant to do so. I only—devil take it, what have I done?’

He took a turn about the well with hasty steps.
Glancing at her, he saw with relief that the piteous look of those eyes had been replaced by her usual expression. Or nearly so. Was there yet a dimness there? How could he atone?

‘Come, Miss Hursley, you must admit at least that you have felt a degree of pleasure in our little conversations.’

‘Too much so,’ she agreed, subdued.

Prue had gone numb now, and she could feel a dissatisfaction in her employer, in his restlessness. She must mend matters.

‘I told you at the outset, Mr Rookham, that it was my own fault. I know that you only meant to be kind—and sometimes to tease. But it is not seemly in me to be seen to be at so much ease with my employer.’

Julius frowned in quick suspicion. ‘Then it was not your notion? Who else, pray, could have put it into your mind?’

‘No one, upon my honour,’ protested Prue, vigorously shaking her head. The last thing she wanted was to draw Mrs Polmont’s further enmity and spite by giving her up to her employer. In Mr Rookham’s present mood, he would undoubtedly complain of it to her—and make matters worse.

‘You see, we were warned at the Seminary,’ she told him urgently, in a bid to divert his attention. ‘And it was instilled into us that it was our own conduct that would determine whether we should be subjected to—to unwanted attentions.’

‘I see.’

Julius found himself pacing again. It had not been the girl’s fault. She was very young. How should she be able to see the difference between an amatory ad
vance and mere friendliness? A rush of compassion seized him, and he turned back to her.

‘Prudence, don’t be so hard on yourself. You are condemned to a life of drudgery—here or elsewhere. Are you not to be permitted a modicum of enjoyment?’

Prue answered him with difficulty. ‘If I allow myself such licence, sir, perhaps I will feel the more deprived at the lack of it—when I move on.’

Silence fell again, and Julius found the words echoing strangely in his head.
When I move on.
As she must, one day soon. Either with his sister, or to another post. He did not know that he smiled at her.

‘Life is short. You should snatch its rare moments of pleasure where you can.’

Prue wanted to weep, but she did not know why. She found Mr Rookham was holding out his hand to her.

‘Cry friends, Prudence. You are quite safe from me, I promise you.’

As if she did not know it! Prue gave him her hand, and as the warmth of his fingers closed over hers, she was sure she must succumb to the crushing weight at her chest.

But a sudden flurry of noise in the offing proved blessedly distracting. And productive of a surge of guilt. She had forgotten the twins, but here they were. She snatched her hand out of his.

‘We found a nest of spiders, Uncle Julius!’

‘There were millions and millions of them!’

‘You should have seen them, Miss Prue, they ran all over everywhere.’

‘And we couldn’t catch them, for they were so fast—’

‘They were mostly babies, and we wanted to bring one to show you, but—’

Prue shuddered, and was thankful to be spared further details by the intervention of Mr Rookham.

‘Will you hold your tongues, your horrible little brats?’

‘But, Uncle Julius—’

‘Enough! I don’t think Miss Prue cares to hear about spiders.’ He turned to his head gardener, who was flanked by the other two men, one of whom must have been instrumental in the recovery of the twins. ‘You’d best smoke them out, Hessle.’

A flood of protest greeted this suggestion, and the fellow nodded in a surly fashion. ‘Ain’t no call for you to go fretting, little missies. Leave ’em alone, and they’ll soon be back in the nest. Only you don’t want to go for catching spiders, for there are them as are poison.’

Predictably, the girls threw scorn upon this suggestion, and Prue felt it incumbent upon her to remove them from the scene. Saying that she would find some information about spiders so that they could see for themselves that the gardener spoke nothing but the truth, she shepherded them away towards the exit.

She could not resist glancing back as she stepped on to the path. To her acute disappointment, she saw that Mr Rookham was far too heavily involved in discussion with the three men to be interested in witnessing her departure.

The oppression of Prue’s spirits continued throughout the remainder of the day. By the time she sat to prepare her lessons for the morrow, the suspicion of a headache began to nag at her. At last Dodo came in to
the schoolroom to fetch Folly for his meal, and Prue thankfully left her work and made her way to her little parlour for dinner.

She found Mrs Polmont awaiting her. The light was fading outside, and the woman’s face was partially in shadow despite the glow from the candelabrum that was always placed upon the mantel at this time. Yet Prue could feel the woman’s malice.

‘Oh, dear,’ she muttered fretfully, ‘am I late?’

The housekeeper moved forward, stepping into the light. Her features were pinched, and her eyes glittered.

‘There will be no dinner here tonight, Miss Hursley.’

Prue stared at her. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘The master requests that you join him downstairs in the dining parlour.’

A rush of gratification deprived Prue momentarily of speech. But the face of the creature who had brought the news effectually brought her back to her senses. She felt a little sick, but she fought it, trying for an even note.

‘Pray inform Mr Rookham that I have the headache. I would prefer to dine here, if you please.’

Mrs Polmont pursed her lips. ‘It isn’t as I please, ma’am. And if you choose to send back a message of that kind, I’m afraid you must take it yourself.’

Prue gathered her courage together. She would not dignify the woman’s jealousy by acknowledging the inference behind her every word. ‘What time does Mr Rookham dine?’

‘In half an hour.’ The features became more pinched. ‘I should spend the time in dressing yourself more becomingly, Miss Hursley, or there won’t be point in going down at all.’

It was beyond what anyone could endure. Prue’s
temper flared. ‘You take too much upon yourself, Mrs Polmont! Is it beyond your understanding that Mr Rookham means only kindness? If he sees nothing out of place in a friendly encounter, what call have you to cavil?’

A low laugh greeted this. ‘I don’t cavil, ma’am. I’m merely warning you. Anyone can tell you’re an innocent. There’s those as would see you to the slaughter without a second thought. But I’m not of their number.’

Incensed, Prue hit back strongly. ‘I am not as innocent as you suppose, Mrs Polmont. But you do your master less than justice to think him capable of that sort of conduct. And if he was, there is nothing in my person to attract him!’

‘Does there have to be? He’s had no mistress for several years. Men have their needs, Miss Hursley. In the absence of wine, they will take water if they must. And they’ll swear themselves blind they don’t want it up until the last. Only by then it’s too late—for you, ma’am.’

Prue felt herself trembling. ‘Why are you doing this? Why do you tell me this?’

‘I thought I said, Miss Hursley. I’m trying to help you.’

Yes, as a snake helps its victim! But Prue said nothing more. There was no point. What motivated the housekeeper she could not tell. She wanted only to get away, for the woman made her skin crawl. She took refuge in formality.

‘That will be all, Mrs Polmont. I am going to my bedchamber.’

Retreating in haste, Prue hurried away down the corridor. The little parlour had been her only refuge. Now it felt soiled and no longer safe. The housekeeper had
no respect for her privacy, and none at all for her position. She had no recourse but her own tongue, for inform Mr Rookham she could not. How could she repeat the substance of the woman’s malicious words?

She could ascribe it only to jealousy, but that was insane. Of what had Mrs Polmont to be jealous? It was not as if she could aspire to the position that she persisted in supposing Mr Rookham intended for herself. After all, she was married. Or was she a widow? Not that it mattered. If by his own admission, the master of the house could not find anything to admire in the person of the governess, Prue could scarcely imagine that he might do so in that of his housekeeper.

The remembrance of Mr Rookham caused her to hurry into her bedchamber. Should she after all obey his summons to dinner? For it was a summons! He must know she could not think of refusing. How would she refuse? After what had passed between them today, she dared not.

She had said so to Mrs Polmont, but that was only in reaction to the creature’s horrid manner. What if the woman had indeed taken her message downstairs? Prue almost trembled at the thought of Mr Rookham’s likely reaction. He would be furious with her, and with good reason. There was no possible justification for what must be construed as an insult.

But when she looked at the contents of her meagre wardrobe, Prue was very nearly tempted to cry off immediately. She would look like a dowd in any one of the few gowns she possessed.

Well, what of that? Had not Mr Rookham made it abundantly plain that he did not find her attractive? It mattered little which gown she chose. Protocol, however, demanded that she at least make a change from
the linsey-woolsey she had been wearing since the accident in the pond.

As she made ready, choosing a plain and demure gown of simple muslin—not in the white of a debutante, but of a discreet pale grey—she was unable to drive out of her mind an unpleasant echo.

In the absence of wine, they will take water…

Prue gazed at her reflection in the glass, shadowy in the half-light. A depression settled upon her spirits. She was persuaded that Mr Rookham had not so raging a thirst!

Within a few moments of entering the dining parlour, Prue knew that she had been foolish to consent. The place was lit only by several sets of candle sconces on the walls, and one candelabrum on the table set at that end where the meal was served. There was a chandelier above, but it was not in use. The atmosphere was all too cosy, despite the silent presence of the butler and a footman.