Prudence (19 page)

The sense of this penetrated and Prue’s unruly pulses subsided. So that was it.

‘Oh.’ Sighing it out.

‘Is that all you can say?’

She swallowed. ‘What would you wish me to say?’

Disconcertingly, he came back to perch on the bed again. His fingers caught at her cheek and lifted her face.

‘You little goose! Do you think so little of me that you did not ask for help? In heaven’s name, girl, don’t
you know me by now? You could not have supposed I would have let you suffer!’

Prue’s throat tightened, and she shook her head.

‘Then why didn’t you send to me?’

There was exasperation in his voice, and tears welled at Prue’s eyes. She tried to blink them away, but in vain.

Julius saw them, and instantly cursed himself. He released her, catching instead at her hand. ‘Don’t cry! I’m a clod, Prue. I should never have said anything. I never meant to carp at you—not now.’

She was shaking her head, as if in denial, but it was obvious that she could not speak. Julius let her go and dived a hand into his pocket for his handkerchief. Bringing it out, he abruptly recalled a letter that had come for her that morning. He passed over his handkerchief, and then reached into the pocket of his sober blue frock-coat for the letter, his attention on Prudence as she stemmed the flow. What had possessed him to bring all that up? He had been shocked at the doctor’s dire pronouncement, but thought he had overcome it. He had in no way intended to throw it at the girl’s head in this stupid fashion. Had he lost his wits?

She was sniffing, and the redness was receding at her eyes. Relieved, he gave her a rueful look.

‘Forgive me, Prudence. I should not have spoken of it.’

‘N-no, pray, it is my fault. I knew that you w-would order everything for my c-comfort. And I did not mean to say anything, it is true. Only perhaps I would have done, had I any inkling how bad I was. But the weakness overcame me before I could think of asking for help.’

Her words served only to increase his irritation with
himself for having brought up the matter. But he contrived to speak without showing it.

‘Besides which, I don’t doubt you had your attention wholly on the children.’

If only she had done, thought Prue dolefully, recalling the silly argument she’d had with herself about whether she should throw herself upon Mr Rookham’s generosity. She prevaricated.

‘Well, I had given them up to Yvette by then. But I was quite mistress of myself, you see, until I had removed my wet clothes. And suddenly, I felt faint, and could by no means do more than crawl into my bed.’

A perfectly charming smile creased his mouth, and her breath caught. ‘You are fully absolved. But you will understand why I am anxious that you should preserve your health. I should hate to be obliged to give an account of myself to your formidable Duck!’

A weak laugh greeted this sally, and Julius relaxed a trifle. Feeling that he had atoned a little for his hasty temper, he held out the letter.

‘I meant to have given you this at once, but I was distracted. My apologies.’

She took the sealed note from him and looked at the inscription. One of those rare joyful smiles lightened her features. Julius was conscious of disappointment. Nothing he had said had brought that ray of sunshine to her face!

‘It is from Nell. Oh, thank you so much, sir!’

‘Don’t thank me,’ he responded, aware of gruffness in his speech. ‘I am only the messenger.’

Her face dimmed a trifle and Julius regretted his tone. ‘Your Seminary friend, is it not? I had best leave you in peace to enjoy it. Indeed, it is time and past that I departed, before I set the household by the ears. It is
a good thing there are none but servants to see me here.’

Was that a faint blush on her cheek? Her words belied it, and there was no consciousness in them.

‘Be sure that I attribute your presence to nothing but kindness, Mr Rookham.’

Did she, indeed? He wondered if it was merely that. But he shied off from discussing the matter further, and made haste to change the subject.

‘Is there anything I can do for you? Would you care for a book to read? Are you perhaps hungry or thirsty?’

‘Oh, no! I mean, there is no need to bestir yourself, sir. I cannot have you wait upon me! I am grateful for Maggie’s help, and—’

‘But I wish to serve you!’ he interrupted, putting an end to this agitated speech. He gave her a quizzical look. ‘You must know that I shall do just as I choose, no matter what you or anyone else may think.’

Yes, she did know! And just who did he mean by ‘anyone else’? As if there could be any doubt! Reflecting that it was as well that the housekeeper had not heard anything of their conversation, Prue sought in vain for something to say over the disastrous pulsing in her veins.

Mr Rookham was eyeing her in that teasing fashion that had always the power to melt her. Movement at the door caught in the periphery of her vision, and with mixed feelings she saw that Maggie was hovering in the doorway.

‘Ah, your nurse is back,’ said Julius easily, feeling himself relieved at the excuse afforded him to leave. Not that he had been in any way held here by anything other than his own will, but he badly needed time for readjustment.

He beckoned to the maid, and then looked back at the patient. ‘I shall leave you now, Miss Hursley, and will hope to hear that you have eaten better. Send to me if there is anything you need.’

‘There is nothing. And thank you.’

She looked woebegone, clutching tightly to the letter that had so briefly changed her mood. Had his incautious words upset her more than she had allowed to appear? But he could ask nothing more in front of the servant, who was busily tidying the bedclothes.

He turned and made for the door. Her voice caught him just as he was about to walk through it.

‘Mr Rookham!’

Prue watched him check and turn, enquiry in his face. She had nothing to ask of him! She had only wanted to stop him leaving her. Frantically searching her mind, she found a much needed excuse—which would itself bring balm to her lonely spirit.

‘Folly. I would like to have him here, if you please.’

He nodded. ‘Certainly. I will arrange it.’

And then he was gone. With a heavy heart, Prue gave herself up to the ministrations of the maid, and found, with a catch at her bosom that, together with Nell’s letter, she was still clutching Mr Rookham’s handkerchief.

With fingers that trembled slightly, she tucked the square of linen under her pillow, and turned her attention to the welcome missive from her friend.

Standing before the fireplace in his library, Julius held his hands to the warmth and rubbed them briskly together. It had been dull and misty since the storm and the air was chill. His eyes strayed to the bell-pull
again. How many times had he looked at it? The matter could not be put off for much longer.

There was a feeling of expectancy in the house. Or was it his imagination? It appeared to him that the staff walked on eggshells in his presence. He had caught the tail-end of sidelong looks, as if there might be an answer in his features to the unspoken questions that fluttered in the atmosphere about him. Whatever had been said or hinted at had rapidly spread, even to his gardeners!

Not that he had ventured these two days upon an excursion to the treillage, where the men were working. But Hessle, who pursued his trade in all weathers—and made his minions do likewise, poor devils!—had come to him with a query earlier. Even Hessle, dour martinet as he was, had cast an odd glance or two his way. It was unsettling, to say the least.

He had meant to tackle Polmont yesterday, but—not to put too fine a point on it!—his nerve had failed him. It was ridiculous, but he was reluctant to broach the subject. It could not be avoided for long. For one thing, an official complaint had been laid by Wincle. For another, he was certain he had walked smash into a wrangle when he had discovered the housekeeper in Prudence’s bedchamber yesterday.

And then what had ensued between himself and the governess had put him into such a state of confusion that he knew not how to tackle the matter. Which was, he decided, at the root of the problem.

Julius turned from the fire and paced restlessly to the windows, staring blankly at the unresponsive drizzle beyond.

How was he to deal with Polmont, when he did not know himself what he felt about Prudence Hursley? He
had liked her from the first. On those few occasions he’d had an opportunity to increase their acquaintance, she had grown on him. Her extreme sensibility was both endearing and exasperating, and the effect upon him of that particular look in her eyes was disastrous. Could that alone justify the seizure of shock that had attacked him upon hearing the doctor pronounce her to have been so close to death?

He had felt himself freeze inside, a latent horror stopping the breath in his throat. It had been an appalling moment. And surely it had been that which had caused him to fly off the handle with the girl? An angry frustration had attacked him, that she took so little care of herself. He knew it had been born in her by consciousness of her lowly position. The little goose thought so badly of her own worth!

Julius thought a good deal better of her than she did herself, that was certain. Only was he prepared to stake his future upon that foundation?

There, he had said it at last. Useless to deny that it had been growing at the back of his mind. Festering, he might have said, for it was like a sore that one tried desperately to ignore, but which refused to heal.

The cold came in at him through the glass of the long window, and he crossed back to the fireplace. As if compelled, his glance dragged back to the bell-pull. Hell and damnation! Let him quiet the house at least, if he could not quiet his own mind.

He seized the cord and tugged upon it. He would see Polmont and settle that nonsense once and for all. It was plain to him now that those earlier fears expressed by Prudence had their origin from this source. He recalled that when she had herself driven a wedge between their burgeoning friendship, he had wondered
if another tongue had been responsible for the fears she had expressed.

The door opened to admit Creggan, and Julius turned.

‘Send Polmont to me here, if you please.’

Was that a glint in the fellow’s eye? The butler looked too impassive to be true as he bowed assent and withdrew.

Even with the moment upon him, Julius had no notion what he was going to say to the woman. Should he accuse her outright? Question her? No, pointless. She would affect ignorance. He would have to be more subtle than that.

The trouble with Polmont was that she had been here since his father’s time. Julius could not say that he cared for her, but she was quietly efficient and ran the house precisely to his satisfaction. His mother had trained her well, for his father had been just such another as Julius was himself. A hedonist, Mrs Rookham had called him. Not that either he or his father had been devoted to pleasure. But he pleaded guilty to a selfish desire to do just as he wished upon every occasion. And it was this comfortable existence that was threatened by the exasperating female lying above-stairs!

The door opened, and the familiar black-garbed figure entered. Julius crossed to the desk. Polmont moved into the room and dropped her prim curtsy.

‘You sent for me, sir?’

Abruptly, Julius was swept with a rush of anger. It came apparently from nowhere, and he was obliged to curb it with the tightest of reins. There was no longer any difficulty about what he would say to her.

‘Are you happy in my employ, Polmont?’

To his intense satisfaction, a look of alarm leaped
into her face. She veiled it quickly, but her eyes held a frightened expression. Her voice was faintly hoarse.

‘I have been happy in this house for many years, Mr Rookham, as I am sure you know.’

‘Until recently, I take it?’

Her hands came up, and her fingers twisted together. Her cheeks paled, and a vibrant note crept into her words.

‘What has been said? She has poisoned your mind against me, has she not?’

Julius stiffened. ‘How could that be, Polmont? Of whom are you talking?’

The eyes glanced away from his, and he saw a sliver of tongue slip out to moisten her lips. Her fingers tightened, one upon the other.

‘I spoke without thinking, sir.’ Hard, and metallic.

Julius was silent for a space. An instinct was urging him to dispense with her services forthwith. But justice and fairness had ever been his watchwords. The woman had been in her post for too many years to be dismissed upon a whim. But a warning might be heeded.

‘I should be loath to spoil your record here, Polmont. You have given satisfactory service, and my mother valued your work, I know.’

He saw at once that he had judged it amiss. Her chin came up, and her eyes glittered. At her waist, her fingers remained entwined, but they stilled.

‘I was ever fond of Mrs Rookham, sir. It was by her wish that I continued to serve you. But I am bound to state that if I am to remain in your employ, conditions would need to be right.’

Fury simmered in Julius’s breast. It was no longer a question of Prudence Hursley’s protection. How dared the woman threaten him?

‘I think you had better explain that remark, Polmont.’

She seemed to struggle with herself. For a moment she met his glance, but her courage evidently gave way. She looked down, and her response was a mutter.

‘If I cannot run the household, sir, as you would wish, then perhaps it would be better for me to leave.’

‘What I wish,’ stated Julius curtly, ‘is that my housekeeper should extend the same courtesy towards other persons in my household, however situated, as she does to myself. Is that too much to ask?’

The black eyes flashed up again, and for an instant Julius saw malevolence there. It was swiftly gone, but the image of it stayed in his head.

‘I will endeavour to give satisfaction, sir, to the best of my ability.’

That was in her usual calm manner. Did she mean it? Julius doubted it, but his own reluctance to push it further surfaced. Until he knew his own mind, let him maintain the status quo—or a semblance of it at least.