A Countess of Convenience (18 page)

Two days later, Prudence left her husband's London home in an early morning drizzle. The earl had kept his word and not returned to the house while she was there. His man of affairs had brought the paper for Neil to sign, tickets, and travel money. She told herself she was glad to be leaving; still, as the coach pulled away from the house, she blinked back tears. Neil sat silently beside her with the air of a Christian martyr.

Her anger at him had hardened into a cold acceptance that Neil was what he was, and she could do nothing to change him. In fact, she could do very little about anything. Her husband had cast her out, and so she must retire to the country and wait for him to remember his need for an heir. What if she were already with child? Perhaps he'd never come to her bed again.

So much the better if he didn't. She had allowed physical pleasure to sweep her away on a tide of mawkish emotion, believing herself and Malvern in love. She would not make that mistake again. Love was just a myth men had invented to further enslave women.

The footmen saw to their luggage when they arrived at the railway station. A first-class, private carriage had been reserved for them, but Prudence dreaded the daylong journey ahead of her. Since her maid, Janie, had preferred to lose her position rather than move so far from her family, Neil would be her only traveling companion, and his conversation consisted mainly of long, mournful sighs.

That night they stopped at a hotel near the railway station in York. The next morning, Neil rented a post-chaise and they set out for Aysbeck.

It was nearly dark when the carriage crossed a small river over a humpbacked bridge and moved toward a three-story house built of gray native stone. The place looked old and deserted. Yews formed a semicircle around the front door, probably intended to serve as a windbreak, but now so overgrown that they appeared to be sentinels blocking entry.

Neil pounded on the front door of the dark house for several minutes before an elderly man, carrying a lantern, finally appeared. “Wot ye disturbin’ me dinner fer?” he asked belligerently.

Neil pulled himself into an indignant stance. “I'm Neil Weathersby. I've brought the Countess of Malvern."

"Countess?” The old man stuck the lantern out the door and blinked at Prudence.

"Weren't you informed of our arrival? Where's the bailiff? The other servants?” Neil demanded.

"Mr. Snavely's gone to market,” the old man said. “Went two days back. Nobody ‘ere but me. I'm t'caretaker."

Prudence stepped up to the doorway. “Doesn't Mr. Snavely live here?"

The man shook his grizzled head. “'E's got ‘is own cottage. This is t'earl's ‘ouse, but ‘e don't live ‘ere."

"Well, I'm the Countess of Malvern and my brother and I have come to live here. Apparently we've arrived before the message announcing us. Can you supply us with some sort of shelter for the night?"

He looked back and forth between Prudence and Neil, his brow knotted with indecision. Finally he stepped back from the doorway, making room for them to enter. “'Ouse ain't made up."

"I'm sure we can make—” Her words died in her throat as she saw the ghostly outline of shrouded furniture and sniffed dust-laden air.

The coachman called that he needed help with the trunks. Neil looked at the old man and then with a sigh of resignation went himself.

"What is your name?” Prudence asked.

"Elias, my lady. ‘Ave you really come to live ‘ere?"

"Yes, Elias. Do you have anything we can eat for supper?"

"Nothin’ but wot I eat. That ain't good enough fer quality folk."

"When there's nothing else, it will be good enough.” She saw a candelabra on a nearby table, lit one of the candles from Elias's lantern and used that to light the others. More light did not improve the situation.

Their arrival had obviously stunned the old caretaker, so Prudence took charge. Once the luggage was unloaded into the hallway and the coachman paid off, she found bedrooms upstairs that would be appropriate for Neil and herself. Elias showed her the linen chest, and she made the beds while Neil watched and grumbled about their miserable accommodations.

Finally she found the kitchen at the back of the house and dined on a meal of hard cheese, stale bread and tea. Of course, Neil complained bitterly about the fare, but Prudence thought it complimented their welcome perfectly.

She went to bed choking back tears, lest she break into full-blown sobs that Neil might hear. Was this how Malvern intended to keep his promise to provide for her?

The next morning, as she neared the kitchen, she heard pounding on the back door and then the high-pitched voice of an agitated man telling Elias that he'd just returned from market and found a message from the earl saying his wife and brother-in-law were coming to Aysbeck.

"They got ‘ere last night,” Elias said.

"What?” Mr. Snavely fairly shrieked. “Have these people no consideration for others? How am I to get this place ready with no notice?"

Prudence chose this moment to enter the kitchen. “Mr. Snavely? I'm Lady Malvern. Elias explained that you've been away, but I'm wondering if there are any local women you can hire to clean this house?"

Snavely was just a little taller than Prudence, had a receding hairline, and wore spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He looked more like a clerk than the manager of an estate. Bobbing his head up and down, he said, “Welcome to Aysbeck, my lady. I'm sorry things weren't prepared for you, but the earl hasn't been up here in more than two years so I didn't see the sense of keeping the house staffed. But one of our tenants has two nearly grown daughters. I'm sure he'll be glad to find some work for them. Of course, they ain't trained as proper housemaids."

"I'm sure they can manage dusting and sweeping. That's what's needed most, that and stocking the pantry and hiring a cook. Perhaps you can find someone in the nearby village?"

Mr. Snavely shifted from on foot to the other. “A cook might not be easy to find. Womenfolk in the village have their own families to tend. I expect the Bailey sisters can put together meals for the time being."

Prudence wanted to tell him that two “nearly grown” girls wouldn't be able to do all the cleaning this house needed and prepare meals, but he knew more about local conditions than she, so she didn't bother.

He cleared his throat. “The earl's letter said your brother would be with you."

"Yes, he is, but I haven't seen him this morning."

Elias spoke up. “The gentleman came through ‘ere just a bit ago. Asked where t'stables be."

This information seemed to alarm Mr. Snavely. “I'd better go show him around. And I'll send for the Bailey girls right away, Lady Malvern."

She thanked him as he hurried for the door. Then she turned back to Elias. “What can we have for breakfast? More cheese?"

He grinned shyly. “No, ma'am. Ah gathered eggs and got a crock o’ milk from t'dairy."

The thought of a decent breakfast brought a smile to her face. “Good work, Elias. If you have the dry ingredients, I might whip up a batch of scones."

He looked shocked. “Surely, a fine lady like yerself don't bake."

"Stir up the fire, and I'll show you."

Sitting at the desk in his library, Malvern looked up from the report he was reading and sighed in satisfaction. How pleasant it was to be back in the peace and quiet of his home. What if the drapes were faded and the carpets worn? That just added to his comfort, that and the knowledge that there were no women about to destroy his peaceful domain.

He'd been stupid to even think of allowing Prudence to live with him, stupid and besotted. But he had his head straight now. He supposed he should be grateful to Weathersby for reminding him of what devious creatures women could be and prompting him to get Prudence out of his hair before she got any further under his skin.

His sense of well-being was destroyed by a loud, feminine voice. “Get out of my way, you stupid man. I don't need to be announced to my own son."

The library door flew open and the dowager Countess of Malvern sailed into the room with all flags flying. “Lindley tells me Prudence has gone to Yorkshire. Why?"

Malvern forced a smile to his lips. “Hello, Mother. What are you doing back in London?"

She marched up to the desk and glared down at him. “I thought Prudence might need advice on the redecorating. Why isn't she here?"

He nodded a dismissal at Lindley, who hovered in the doorway with an apologetic look on his face. Then Malvern turned back to his mother and gestured toward the chair beside his desk. “Won't you have a seat? Or would you prefer that we move over to the sofa?"

She continued to stand over him. “If you didn't want her here, why didn't you send her back to Malvern Hall?"

"She's gone to be with her brother, who is to be the new stable master at Aysbeck."

"Stable master? What qualifies him for that position?"

"Actually, that's just an excuse to get him out of London before he bankrupts me."

Her expression became more confused than angry. “Why are you financially responsible for him?"

Trying to maintain his nonchalant pose, he shrugged. “How would it look if a member of the family, even an in-law, went to debtors’ prison? Besides, my dear wife pleaded so prettily for him."

"And you sent her away for that?"

He felt his poise slipping. “There was more to it—a great deal more."

She moved to the chair he had indicated. Her agitation made her sit with something less than her usual studied grace. “Well, do you intend to make me guess?"

He sighed with irritation. “This is my affair, Mother."

"Not entirely. You haven't produced an heir yet."

"I'll get an heir, but those two made a fool of me, and I need a bit of time for my pride to heal."

"Why do you blame them? Weathersby may have dangled his sister before you, but you willingly swallowed the hook."

Anger overcame his resolve to remain calm and tell her nothing. “It was a bit more than a dangle—if you must know. He told me his sister had ruined herself in an affair with a married man and was in London seeking a protector. I thought I was auditioning a mistress."

He was gratified to see Lady Caroline's hand fly up to her mouth until laughter erupted from behind it. “You didn't actually believe Prudence a jade? I know eighteen-year-old debutants who are far more sophisticated than she."

He drew himself up haughtily. “You forget that I've had a good deal of experience with actresses. I know women can appear to be what they are not."

She stopped laughing and sniffed with distain. “Too bad all your experience hasn't taught you to tell the true from the false. I don't doubt that scoundrel, Weathersby, set out to entrap you, but I'm sure Prudence did not know his intentions."

"If you'd seen them as I did—with their heads together plotting against me—you wouldn't say that."

"When did you see them like that?"

"The day we returned from Malvern Hall. Right after I learned that Weathersby's creditors were besieging Walton."

She uncharacteristically allowed her brow to wrinkle as she considered his words. “Weathersby came to Malvern that day asking for you. When I told him both you and Prudence had returned to London, he raced out of the house—must have been quite desperate to return to London so quickly."

"Yes, desperate to put the last part of their plan into operation."

"Or desperate to beg for his sister's help."

"Help she was quite willing to give,” Malvern replied with a sneer in his voice.

His answer seemed to offend rather than convince her. “He's all the immediate family she has. Surely, you can understand why she would be upset at the prospect of him going to prison."

"Don't be naive, Mother. She knew the state of her brother's finances. That's why she worked to win my favor, so she could persuade me to save him."

Lady Caroline rose and stared down at him with disdain. “Stop accusing Weathersby and Prudence of making a fool of you, Anthony. You're doing that very nicely for yourself.” She started toward the door with regal bearing, but paused and looked over her shoulder. “Don't leave her moldering in the country too long. Even the sweetest tempered woman will eventually run out of forgiveness."

He stared after her in amazement. Barely five weeks ago she'd been horrified at the news that he would marry Prudence. Now she championed the girl. That just proved Prudence's slyness. He'd definitely been right to send her away. After she'd been in Yorkshire long enough to realize her wiles did not work on him, he'd visit his northern estate and see to getting his heir.

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Prudence reluctantly gathered the bread-making ingredients on the worktable in the kitchen. Mr. Snavely's confidence in the Bailey sisters’ cooking ability had been ill founded. About all either of them could manage was a stew or a boiled pudding, probably all the Bailey family normally ate. So Prudence had to take on many of the cooking chores, especially the baking.

She had loved baking while living with her mother, but there she'd mostly prepared fancy cakes and biscuits to tempt her mother's failing appetite. Here she had to make enough bread to supply the household, and kneading dough was hard work. This time she'd let Hazel do most of the kneading.

She noticed the older sister adding tea to the pot. “Another spoonful, Hazel. Lord Weathersby likes his a bit strong.” The girl insisted on giving short measure to the tea, apparently a dear commodity in her own home.

The back door opened and Neil stalked into the room. Prudence was glad she'd finally convinced him to stop using the front entry when coming from the stables, but a look at the tracks he now made on the kitchen floor caused her to frown censure at him.

"What?” His gaze followed hers down to the muddy footprints. He stopped and balled his fists on his hips. “Well, how am I supposed to get into the house?"

"My papa takes ‘is work boots off at t'door,” Hazel said, and then blushed violently when she realized she'd earned herself a glare from Neil.

Nevertheless, he plopped onto a nearby bench to pull his boots off. As he dropped one of them, brown particles of something other than mud fell from it.