Prudence (18 page)

‘There is an apparency of fever. But this sort of confusion of mind betokens a different disorder, I believe.’

‘Like what?’

‘Overlong exposure to the elements, sir, can give rise to just these sort of symptoms. She has been too long chilled.’

Chilled? Who was chilled? A memory came. The twins! Were they safe? Thrusting against the immense lassitude that possessed her, Prue shoved open her eyes again.

‘Are they ill? I tried to keep them safe.’

The murmuring ceased. Prue cast about the faces
above her and found the one she sought. She reached up and her hand came in contact with an arm. She clutched at it.

‘Tell me, pray. Oh, I am so very much to blame!’

‘Nonsense!’ The tone was bracing. ‘They are none the worse for wear.’

Another voice spoke. ‘I don’t know how you can say so, sir, when you know well—’

‘Be silent, Mrs Polmont!’

Prue shrank from the anger, withdrawing her hand and digging herself down into the bedclothes. Then the heaviness overtook her head again, and she heard no more.

Prue’s eyes opened upon surroundings that looked a degree more familiar. Nor did the shape of things seem out of true as they had done before. She was conscious of warmth about her, but when she moved her legs, they felt stiff and unwieldy.

Her movement brought someone to the bed. She recognised the young maid. Maggie smiled at her.

‘You look a degree better, miss. Now do you feel cold, for I’m to fetch you another blanket if you do.’

Prue yawned. ‘No, I am quite warm.’

She felt a hand reach under the covers and pat at her skin through the nightgown.

‘Well, you do feel warmer, I’ll say that.’ Was it relief in the tone? ‘Would you like a little water?’

Prue felt her head raised and drank of the glass that was put to her lips. The cool liquid did much to free her mind of cobwebs. And then a pressing need made itself felt.

‘I must get up!’

‘On no account, miss! I’d be afeard for my post if I let you.’

But she tutted when Prue explained more clearly, and fetching the pot from under the bed, bustled to assist Prue to make use of it. The whole operation, for which she was obliged to rely heavily on Maggie’s support, demonstrated her extreme weakness, and Prue was only too glad to slide back under the covers.

‘That’s done with,’ said the maid with satisfaction. ‘Now, do you think you might take a morsel to eat?’

A faint sensation of hunger surfaced at the thought of food. Only Prue was not sure she had strength left to manage eating.

‘I do not know if I can.’

‘I’ve orders to try you, so we’ll see, shall we? It won’t be nothing heavy. A bit of chicken breast, or plain broth, the doctor said. Mrs Wincle will have seen to it.’

Prue watched the maid move to the fireplace where she yanked on the bell-pull. She became aware of daylight in the room, and wondered how long she had lain here.

‘What time is it?’

‘Nigh on three o’clock, miss. You’ve been asleep for hours and hours.’

‘But I remember people here—talking. That was surely not long ago?’

Laughter trilled out of the maid as she came back to the bed. ‘Lordy, miss, that were this morning when the doctor was here.’

Only Prue remembered someone other than the doctor. She did not make the enquiry. She could not ask that. It would be too dreadful if she should find she had been dreaming—if he had not been here at all.

The maid was disposed to be chatty. Prue let the words wash over her, attending little to what was said.

‘It’s mighty chilled you were this morning, miss, and no mistake. But I’ve kept the fire going, and what with the extra quilt and hot bricks, not to mention the doctor’s potion as he give you to make you sleep, it looks like we done the trick.’

Feeling that something was required of her, Prue tried to find a suitable response. ‘It is kind of you.’

Maggie’s laughter trilled again. ‘It ain’t nothing of the sort, miss. Setting aside I’ve me duty to the master, there’s such a thing as common feeling.’ A friendly wink closed one eye. ‘And I ain’t the only one of the household as is struck with it neither!’

Her attention caught, Prue stared up into the girl’s cheery features. What was she meant to understand by that? Too weak to be fully mistress of her own tongue, she put a faintly apprehensive question.

‘Whom do you mean?’

A chuckle escaped the girl’s lips. ‘Let’s see now, miss. There’s Mrs Wincle for one. Took up the cudgels on your part, she did, and bearded the master. I shouldn’t have dared, not without Mrs Wincle’s say-so!’

‘Took up the cudgels?’

Prue’s heart skipped a beat. What in the world had been said? Against whom had the cook taken them up?

A knock at the door prevented any reply to this.

‘That’ll be Jacob with your meal, miss.’

She disappeared from sight, and Prue heard the opening of the door, the clink of crockery, and a man’s low tones. Then the latch clicked and Maggie was back, bearing a tray.

‘Now, I’ll just set this down, miss, and make you ready so’s you can eat.’

The tray disposed of temporarily, Prue struggled against her weakness as the maid helped her to sit up. She was obliged to hold on to the girl’s shoulders as the pillows were banked behind her, and she sank back against them with a sigh of relief.

‘Now, then, shall you take the tray on your knees?’

Prue shook her head slightly. ‘I do not think I can.’

‘Then I’d best bring the plate to you and hold it.’

In the event, Maggie was obliged actually to feed Prue, for when she tried to dip the spoon that was given into her hands, her fingers trembled too much to keep it steady.

The maid tutted, and took matters into her own hands. It was silly to be unable to feed herself, but there was nothing Prue could do but give in to the situation. She was comforted by the cheerful mien of the girl, who kept up a running commentary throughout.

‘There now, open up, miss. And in it goes. That’s it, swallow it down. We’ll soon have you back in trim, miss. Another one for luck, as my old mum used to say. There it goes, miss. I’ve the next all ready for you. It’s light broth, this is, miss. Made special, I can tell you, for Mrs Wincle is that worrited for you. Here’s another. Down it goes. Smells good, don’t it, miss? Mushroom and herbs, I’d say. And I’d not be a bit surprised if she didn’t put a touch of cream in too.’

The gentle flow of inconsequent chatter lulled Prue’s mind, and she obeyed in an automatic way the presentation of the spoon. But at length the effort of swallowing proved too much. She waved the spoon away.

‘No more, I pray you.’

The maid tutted again, returning the spoon to the
bowl. ‘Well, I’ll not fuss, since you’ve had near half of it. I’ll let you rest, and then we’ll try a bit of chicken.’

Prue wanted to protest, for the thought of eating anything else demanded more than she felt she could give. But she said nothing, feeling herself indebted to Maggie.

She should not be lying here, accepting this service as if it was her right. She ought to be up about her duties, teaching the girls. Only her body was forcing her to abandon all pretensions to normality. She supposed, in a vague sort of way, that she would presently find herself sufficiently recovered to resume the usual pursuit of her days. But for now, there was a curious balm in this enforced inactivity, as though with the suspension of her body’s motion, her mind was able to rest. Was her mind so much in need of rest? She had a memory of troubled thoughts, but at this present it was too far away to matter.

‘Now don’t you go off to sleep again, miss! I’ll not answer for the master’s wrath, if I let you drift off before I’ve got a bit more substance down you.’

Prue pulled herself back into consciousness. The master! That was it. Mr Rookham had been here, she knew he had. It had not then been a dream. He had cared enough to come to her!

Elation warmed her breast, and she made no demur when the maid produced a plate and plonked on the edge of the bed again with a determined air.

‘Now, you’ll take a little of this chicken, miss. It’s ever so tender, straight off the breast.’ A small portion of white meat speared on a fork appeared in front of Prue’s face. ‘Come now, open up. I’d like fine to report to the master as you’ve eaten well.’

The thought of pleasing Mr Rookham so wrought upon Prue that she opened her mouth at once. It was only as she chewed at the soft meat that it dawned on her that Maggie had taken a great deal for granted. Was that what that wink had implied? Had she noticed—had the cook done so?—that there was a friendship between herself and the master of the house? Or was there a different construction put upon it?

A part of her mind cleared. She remembered the housekeeper’s warnings. The comfortable blanket that had enwrapped her began to dissipate, and reality floated in.

As if on cue, the door opened. From her raised position in the bed, Prue’s eyeline was perfectly placed to note the entrance of the black-garbed figure herself.

T
he maid was heard to mutter under her breath, but Prue was unable to decipher what she said. A pulse was rising in her breast, and she could feel the beat of her own heart as Mrs Polmont approached the bed.

‘What are you doing, Maggie? Surely Miss Hursley can feed herself?’

Prue was holding her breath, but she saw the maid look the woman straight in the eyes.

‘She did try, Mrs Polmont, but she’s too weak.’

The fork was once again at Prue’s mouth, only the churning in her stomach made her reject the thought of food. She shifted her face away.

‘No more, I thank you.’

From the other side of the bed, the housekeeper addressed her. ‘You’d best eat. We don’t want you malingering here any longer than you must.’

Prue saw the maid’s eyes flash, but the girl pursed her lips tightly together. She presented the fork again. Prue shook her head.

‘Take it away, Maggie,’ said Mrs Polmont. ‘You may go now. Take the tray back to the kitchen.’

The maid had risen, but she stood her ground. ‘I’m to stay and nurse Miss Hursley, ma’am.’

The pinched look became more pronounced, and the woman’s eyes glittered dangerously. ‘Are you questioning my orders, Maggie? Take the tray away.’

‘I ain’t questioning nothing, ma’am. Only the master himself told me as I was to nurse her.’

Mrs Polmont’s brows rose. ‘Did I say you weren’t to nurse her? Take the tray to the kitchens. You are entitled to a break, and I say you are to have one. Come back in an hour.’

Prue looked from Maggie’s mutinous features to the tightly drawn face of the housekeeper. Her conscience smote her. She could not be the cause of dissension among the domestic staff. She put out an unsteady hand towards the maid.

‘Do as she says, if you please. I am much better, so you need not fear to leave your post.’

The maid gave her a swift, conspiratorial smile. Then she collected the tray, and left the room. The housekeeper held the door for her, and shut it carefully behind her. Prue braced herself as she turned. The woman’s tone was bitter.

‘Already it begins.’

Bewilderment rose up. ‘I don’t understand you.’

A sour look settled about Mrs Polmont’s mouth. ‘Don’t you?’ She crossed to stand by the bed again. ‘You think to usurp my position, is that it?’

Prue stared at her. ‘Are you mad?’

‘I don’t mean as housekeeper. I thought at first you were an innocent, but I perceive my error now.’

Annoyance mingled with the puzzled apprehension. ‘I have not the remotest notion what you are talking about.’

The housekeeper laughed, a rasping sound. ‘And you so clever, Miss Hursley! I was fooled at first, but I see through your scheme now. Only the most determined assault could encompass such a dangerous ploy.’

The woman’s words began to take on the quality of a nightmare, making no sense. Prue shrunk into her pillows, weak all over again.

‘I do wish you will not speak in riddles. What is it you are trying to say to me? Of what do you accuse me?’

‘Don’t play the innocent with me, miss, for it won’t work any longer.’ Her tone had sharpened, striking heavily into the room. ‘Chilled from the rain? Yes, and prettily played, I must say. Did you choose it because of his reaction on the last occasion? I see what you hope to gain. Worming your way into his affections! You have ambitions beyond what one might have expected, have you not?’

As the meaning behind her words began to penetrate, Prue could only stare at the creature in the blankest astonishment. She supposed her to be scheming to attach Mr Rookham. How little the woman knew! What, did she imagine Prue had dared to think the utterly unthinkable?

‘You mistake me completely,’ was all she could find to say in her own defence.

The housekeeper gazed down her beaky nose. ‘Can you deny that your own affections are engaged?’

Prue could not. Nor had she power to make a refutation that she knew to be a lie. The pulsing pressure of her heartbeat caused a tremble to start up again in her limbs. She tried to speak, to make an attempt to defend herself.

‘That h-has n-nothing to d-do with the c-case.’

‘Nothing,’ agreed Mrs Polmont drily, ‘except in impairing your judgement. You see in him what you want to see, but I know him better. He might have taken you as his mistress. But a wife?’ A coarse laugh came rasping from her throat. ‘Mr Rookham is too set in his ways, too comfortable in his bachelor establishment. He will not wed you. No, Miss Hursley, you are aiming at the moon. I rule the roost here. You will not take that from me, I promise you!’

Nausea was adding to the discomforts Prue was already experiencing. The woman had shown her hand. How blinding was her jealousy! Prue was unable to help the words that tumbled from her mouth.

‘You are wrong, so very wrong. I had no thought of such a thing. Nothing could be farther from my mind than to suppose I should be offered such a position. Nor to scheme for it! As if I could, even had I wanted to.’

Mrs Polmont’s expression did not change. ‘Say on, Miss Hursley. I am wise to you now.’

Prue sighed wearily. ‘I think your jealousy has maddened you, Mrs Polmont. There is no use talking.’

‘I have said my say. Take heed. Your schemes can only end in disaster for yourself.’

Irritation flared. ‘You need not say so! My life has been already overtaken by disaster, if you only knew. I have no anticipation either of felicity or any future happiness.’

A faint look of surprise showed in the housekeeper’s face. She looked as if she would speak again. But a rapping on the door brought her head whipping round. It opened and, with an intensity of relief, Prue saw that the newcomer was Mr Rookham.

For the first moment or two Julius had no attention to spare for his housekeeper. Such a wave of sensation struck him at the sight of Prudence sitting up, that he had eyes only for this as he approached the foot of the bed.

She looked better, thank God! A trifle pale, perhaps. Those limpid eyes of hers were all too vulnerable, large in her white face. Her hair was tumbled, falling pell-mell upon the white linen bedgown at her shoulders.

Julius experienced a tug of attraction that had nothing to do with friendship. Hastily he broke into speech.

‘I am glad to see you so much improved. Have you eaten?’

There was a constriction in Prue’s throat, but she answered as calmly as she could. ‘I have had some broth. Oh, and a trifle of chicken.’

A frown entered his face. ‘How much chicken?’

Prue looked away from him. ‘Sufficient. Truly, I am not hungry.’

She had been relieved to see him. But it immediately became oppressive to have him there while the housekeeper was in the room. Everything the woman had said rose tauntingly into her mind. She could not but acknowledge that her conduct might well appear suspect. What if Mr Rookham shared Mrs Polmont’s opinion?

Julius found his eyes turning upon the housekeeper, standing silent by the side of the bed. He could see nothing in Polmont beyond her familiar assured calm. Yet he could have sworn he had heard her voice raised as he had never heard it before. He was careful to give no sign of his thoughts.

‘Where is the young maid? I gave orders that she was to attend Miss Hursley.’

There was only the usual prim manner in Polmont’s response. ‘I gave her leave to take a respite, sir. She will return presently.’

‘In that case, I will keep Miss Hursley company for a space. You may go.’

A movement in the bed drew his eyes, but Prudence was not looking at him. Her fingers plucked restlessly at the covers, and his chest tightened. Had there been an altercation?

Polmont had not moved when Julius glanced back at her. A cynical devil prompted him, and his tongue became sharp.

‘What is it, Polmont? Do you fear to leave Miss Hursley unchaperoned in my care?’

He watched with satisfaction as her lips pursed tightly together. But she clearly dared not venture upon a retort. He softened his tone.

‘I do not intend to remain for long. And if I should be tempted to overstay my time, I have no doubt you will speedily send Maggie up to play propriety.’

Dismayed, if guiltily triumphant, Prue watched her tormenter drop a curtsy and withdraw, pointedly leaving the door ajar. There would be no quarter after this! In not a little trepidation, she turned furtive eyes upon her employer.

Mr Rookham was staring frowningly at the open door, as if lost in thought. With an abruptness that startled her, he turned with a curt question.

‘Has that woman been troubling you, Prudence?’

Prue bit her lip, looking quickly down at the coverlet. She must refute it at once. Only her tongue seemed not to wish to obey her.

‘I don’t—it is not—’

‘It is not something of which you may speak freely, is that it? Well, never mind.’

The sudden fierce look vanished, and Mr Rookham smiled as she glanced up again. He perched on the bed and took one of her hands between his fingers, feeling them.

‘You are much warmer. They were like ice this morning! You gave us all a great fright, I can tell you.’

Prue felt herself melting. ‘I am so sorry.’

He released her fingers. ‘For God’s sake, don’t apologise! I am eternally grateful to you, Miss Hursley.’

Unable to believe she had heard him aright, Prue blinked dazedly. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Mr Rookham grinned. ‘Yes, you heard me correctly.’

His perspicacity was uncanny. Prue sank numbly into her banked pillows. ‘I don’t understand you. After I was so stupid as to remain out in the woods in a storm? I should have seen it coming. Only I was—’ She broke off, realising to where her incautious words were leading.

A warm hand was laid over one of hers. ‘You could not have done so. It blew up out of nowhere, and took us all by surprise. I was caught myself, out in the gardens.’

Prue’s heart lightened. Then she had not been too much at fault. She felt the hand removed from hers, and her spirits drooped a little. But she had yet a question.

‘The girls, Mr Rookham. Have they taken any harm?’

‘You asked that this morning, but I dare say you don’t remember.’

She thought he hesitated, and her heart dimmed the
more as a memory stirred. ‘She spoke of it! They are ill too, aren’t they?’

‘A trifle of sneezing and coughing, but nothing to concern you. The doctor saw them this morning, and his diagnosis was sanguine. Yvette has kept them in bed for today.’

Dismay flooded Prue. ‘Oh, I am so sorry, sir. I should never have taken them into the woods.’

An odd expression flitted across his face. ‘Why did you?’

‘Go to the woods? Oh, we were collecting flowers—and we have lost them all.’

‘Botany. I guessed as much.’

Prue let out a laugh. ‘Botany? Indeed, no. I have no knowledge of botany. It was for a work of art. You may press them, you know, and then create a picture.’

‘I see.’

Julius said nothing further for a moment. A work of art! It was all of a piece. Who but Prudence Hursley would think of such a thing? He recalled the pincushions shaped as hearts. Her sensibility was clearly incurable. The thought caused a resurgence of that warmth that had attacked him upon setting eyes on her earlier. A misplaced feeling! There was nothing remotely sensual in her now.

‘Why did you say you are grateful to me?’

He almost started at the sound of her voice. Those wretchedly disarming eyes were fixed upon him in a look compounded of puzzlement and pleading. She was pathetically in need of reassurance. He could at least give her the satisfaction of knowing that she had done something right.

‘Lotty and Dodo told me what you did for them. They are fond of you, but don’t run away with the idea
that they had any thought of praising your presence of mind. I do so wholeheartedly, but the twins were only bent upon recounting their adventure. Through which, let me tell you, it is plain that you acted purely from an instinct to preserve them, and without the slightest thought for your own safety—which is exactly what I should have expected from you!’

‘But what else could have I done? Pray don’t scold me, Mr Rookham, for I could scarcely have done less.’

He laughed out. ‘Scold you? Goose! I am trying to thank you. How in the world would I have explained it to Trixie, if her daughters had become seriously ill—as you did?’

Her features creased with distaste. ‘Not seriously. I am well now, I promise you. Indeed, I should hope I might resume my duties tomorrow.’

He rose abruptly, and Prue quailed at the look in his face. ‘You will do no such thing! You will remain in bed until the doctor sees fit to release you. And then, if you are yet in need of rest, you will stay quietly in your parlour until your health is fully recovered.’

‘But—’

‘Don’t argue with me, for my mind is made up!’ he snapped. ‘As for the twins, they can survive without schooling for a few days. It will be nothing new in their lives.’

Prue eyed him in silence, disturbed by his sudden outburst. Why he should have been angered by her desire to get back to work, she could not imagine. Unless he thought she was merely being foolish? She sought for a way to placate him.

‘I will do as you wish, Mr Rookham. But I cannot think that I will be laid up for long.’

‘Then you know little of what you have been through,’ he retorted.

She watched him shift away a step or two, and thought he took a deep breath, as if to steady himself. When he spoke again, she was glad to find his tone to be more moderate, although the look in his eyes quite frightened her.

‘You could have
died
, Prue. Our doctor here is a countrified fellow, but he knows his business. Had you not been warmed a little last night—despite the fire giving out so that you became chilled again—you might have slipped away by morning.’

Prue stared at his face, struck more by what she saw there than by what he had said. There was a quality to it that was—yes, haunted! Her heart began a rough tattoo in her bosom, but she dared not formulate, even in thought, the implication that hovered at the edge of her mind.

‘You look at me as if I am mad!’ A faint laugh escaped him. ‘I am, perhaps. At least I am maddened by the horrible thought that, had I not grown tired of my own company and sent to you to come and dine with me last night, no one would have known anything about your condition.’