Summerset Abbey (25 page)

She almost asked Susie about offering to help pay for dinner, but thought better of it. Susie’s admiration over her things made
her uncomfortable, as though she were showing off. But truly she was just starving for female companionship. She missed the easy relationship and intimacy she used to have with Ro and Vic.

She missed having a family.

She’d received a note from Wesley yesterday, telling her that his father had broken down and cried when he’d heard his baby sister had died, and that he was willing to meet his niece. Gran was moving in with them for a bit to recover and Wesley would contact her as soon as things had settled. A smile crossed her face. So maybe she would get a family after all.

But they wouldn’t able to take the place of Vic and Ro.

Turning back to Susie, she held up a dark, plum-colored silk dress with draped panniers on the hips. The skirt was slim enough to move in easily, but the ruffles on the wide collar and sleeves made it elegant enough for dinner at the inn.

Susie just nodded, her eyes wide. She jumped up off the bed to help Prudence finish dressing. “So, what are you doing with all these clothes? Did Miss Rowena and Miss Victoria give them to you?”

Prudence hesitated. She didn’t want Susie to think she was further distancing herself from service, but neither did she want to lie. In the end, she decided to tell her the truth. Susie listened, silently buttoning up the double rows of tiny buttons on the back of the dress. After Prudence had finished, Susie turned her around and kissed her soundly on the cheek.

“That’s like a fairy story, it is. You’re a princess being held captive by the evil Mrs. Harper, and Andrew is your prince come to rescue you.”

It sounded so much like something Victoria might have said that Prudence had to laugh. “Andrew is far too nice and honest to be a prince,” she said.

Susie snorted. “True. A better prince would be one of those handsome lords who came to visit last weekend.”

Prudence thought of Lord Billingsly’s dark, expressive eyes and short, black curls. Her breath caught; he would make the perfect prince. She shook her head impatiently, causing Susie, who was now brushing out her hair, to fuss.

“Hold still now or you’ll keep him waiting.” She stood back a few minutes later to check out her handiwork. “I didn’t do too badly. Goodness, but you look like a lady. But you did even when you were wearing that ugly uniform.”

Prudence gave her a tremulous smile. Now that it was time to go, nerves fluttered in her stomach. If she had been living at home, she probably would not have gone out without Vic or Ro tagging along. Sir Philip may have been socially liberal, but he was still protective when it came to his girls and the opposite sex.

She picked up some of the clothing that had been strewn about the room, but Susie handed Prudence her little black beaded reticule and gave her a small push. “You go on. I’ll tidy up. And don’t forget, you have to tell me everything.”

By the time Prudence reached Andrew, her nerves were jangling like coins in a collection plate. His jacket was too tight across his back and a bit short in the arms and her throat tightened with tenderness, knowing he must have borrowed it. His hair was slicked back and she could see the red scrape marks on his chin from a recent shave. He stood at attention, in the same manner as when he was helping Lady Summerset in and out of the motorcar.

His eyes widened when he saw her, and he cleared his throat. Turning stiffly, he opened the door of a staid green motorcar. Touched, she reached out and laid her fingers against his arm. “Thank you,” she said simply.

The small gesture broke his tension and he smiled widely. “I borrowed the car from the gamekeeper. I didn’t imagine you wanted to walk to Summerset.”

She remembered the last time she had tried to walk to Buxton and how Lord Billingsly’s laugh rang out in the crisp morning air. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Shame on her. She shouldn’t think of that now.

She glanced at Andrew’s profile as they bumped down the driveway. His neck was red, as if he sensed her scrutiny. Unlike most men, he wore no hat, and his hair ruffled in the wind. It made him look vulnerable somehow, as if he had forgotten a piece of his armor.

He turned to her abruptly, as if he had just thought of something to say. She dropped her eyes, embarrassed at being caught staring.

“I hope you don’t mind if we stop in at my parents’ house first. One of the horses is doing poorly and my brothers are at a loss. I’m better with the animals than they are.”

Prudence didn’t show her surprise. She certainly hadn’t prepared herself to meet his parents. But something about the pleading look in his eyes made her check her reaction. “Of course, that’s fine. I’m just glad to be out of Summerset.”

He nodded. “I don’t like it much myself. Much too stuffy for me. I’d rather be out of doors.”

“Would you like to be a farmer?” she asked, to be polite.

He nodded. “In a way. You see, I’d like to go to the veterinarian school up in London and after I’ve done my student training, I’d like to buy a small holding to farm while building a practice. But of course, there’s always the question of money.” He laughed a little, as if realizing he shouldn’t have spoken of money.

Prudence noticed that while the upper classes rarely spoke of
money, the lower classes had little shame about doing so and oftentimes seemed to have a more intuitive understanding of profit and loss, acceptable risk, and the rise and fall of the economy than those who ran the government. “I think that’s a fine idea.”

He shook his head. “Pipe dreams.” His voice had taken on a harsher tone and Prudence realized that he was probably repeating something he had heard all his life. “I tried to save when I first started working at Summerset, but the family always needed something and I realized just how tough it would be.” He suddenly pointed to the ruins of an old castle on the hill above them. “There’s Hollingsworth Castle. Or what’s left of it.”

She turned to look, understanding that he wanted to change the subject.

They spoke of inconsequential things after that until they pulled onto a road that was more of a path than a road.

“Hang on. It’s going to get bumpy.”

Bumpy didn’t even come close to describing the path that ran along a field on one side and a stand of trees on the other. Prudence thought her teeth were going to come right out of her head. They turned a corner and came upon a small stone cottage and a large, modern barn. She wondered how much of Andrew’s carefully saved money had gone into constructing such a fine building.

In comparison, even the dimness of the cloudy afternoon couldn’t hide the disrepair of the cottage. A corner of one of the windows had been broken and a piece of rag had been stuck in the hole to keep out the cold. It was small, far too small for the number of grubby children who came scampering out. They climbed onto Andrew after he got out of the car, as if he were a tree. A lesser man may have been embarrassed by such circumstances, but Andrew just gave her his wide, bashful smile.
Prudence laughed, and suddenly she realized that she could develop feelings for him if she tried. An old man with a large, knobby head and a bent back appeared in the doorway, followed by a younger man who looked so much like Andrew, she knew he must be his brother, in spite of the meanness of his clothing.

She climbed out of the vehicle, realizing that he wouldn’t be able to open the door for her. He glanced back and she saw that he was embarrassed through and through, trying to come up with some way to introduce them. Her heart once again swelled with compassion. The children, having spotted her, immediately hid behind their father and their grandfather.

Andrew made quick introductions. The two men bowed toward her awkwardly, as if the movement pained them. Then they hurried Andrew toward the barn.

“I’ll only be a moment,” Andrew called over his shoulder. He nodded toward her as if to tell her to mind her dress before disappearing into the barn.

Prudence stood awkwardly in the yard, wishing she hadn’t gotten out of the car. Now what was she supposed to do? She smiled at the children, who were now inspecting the motorcar. There were two girls and a boy left. The other boy, obviously older than the rest, had trailed after the men into the barn. A brown-haired girl with a snub nose climbed up onto the running board in order to get a better view into the interior. Her thin brown coat looked too small to button up the front and Prudence knew she must be freezing.

“I don’t think you should do that,” Prudence said.

“I don’t think you should do that,” the girl mimicked. The other two children, who looked to be about three or four, with hollows in their still baby-round cheeks, tittered. The older one,
made brave by her success, hopped off the motorcar and sidled over to Prudence.. “Are you Uncle Andrew’s sweetheart?” she asked.

Prudence shook her head. “I’m just a friend.”

The girl cocked her head to one side. “Why are you dressed so posh, then? I think you’re his sweetheart.” Brazenly, the girl reached out and fingered the fine material of Prudence’s dress.

The door opened behind her and Prudence turned. A tired woman stared out into the yard. The skirt of her ill-fitting green wincey was stained with barnyard muck. She kept sweeping her mousy brown hair back carelessly with the back of a flour-covered hand. With a start, Prudence realized that the woman couldn’t be much older than she was.

“Get in here and leave the lady alone,” the woman said, her eyes never leaving Prudence’s.

The children scampered into the house and Prudence and the woman stared at each other for a long moment before the woman shut the door. Prudence’s heart beat wildly in her chest before she climbed back into the vehicle. She didn’t belong here. The children knew it, the men had known it, and the woman at the door had known it. Prudence was as alien at this farm as she was in the Grand Hall of Summerset.

So where did she belong? She wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm, wishing that Andrew would hurry. Resting her forehead against the cold glass of the window, she wondered whether she would really belong anywhere again. At home she had belonged, but looking back, she realized just how much Sir Philip had protected her from the snobbishness of his class. If they all went home, what would their lives be like? She shivered as she understood there would be no going back for her. Ro and
Vic had their own lives, lives that, whether any of them wanted to admit it or not, could not include her. At least, not in the manner that they used to.

It was not a cheerful thought to realize that her family wasn’t really her family and that the future she thought she would have—marriage to a suitable young man, running her own home somewhere close to Ro and Vic in Belgravia or Mayfair—simply wasn’t an option. And Lord Billingsly, that wasn’t an option either. Her mother must have known that. Why hadn’t she said anything? Why hadn’t she kept Prudence more separate instead of allowing her to think she was one of
them
? She must have known this time would come.

Then a thought hit her so hard, she drew in a quick breath.

She did know it would come. That’s why she had left her so much money
.

For a woman of Alice Tate’s means, acquiring money like that would have taken a lifetime. Where had she gotten it? No matter what things her mother had kept hidden from her as she grew up, Prudence was sure that thievery was not one of them. She had gotten the money from somewhere, enough money for her daughter to buy herself almost any kind of reasonable home she wanted. Enough money to act as a buffer against living on the street. She would have to earn her own living, of course, but Prudence had been brought up skilled in a number of things and she could probably earn enough money from music lessons alone.

Sadness washed over her like a fine Cornwall mist. Even if the Buxton girls did make it back home, which Prudence was beginning to doubt, life wouldn’t be the same and she needed to try to figure something out. Because being a lady’s maid at a great estate was not an option for her—no matter how much loyalty
and love she felt for Rowena and Victoria. She had the means to change her life, and she suddenly longed to do so. Maybe it was time she quit putting off the inevitable. But inside she shivered, her fear of being out in the world all alone—for the first time in her life—wrapping itself around her like poison ivy.

She jumped when Andrew started the car. She’d been so deep in thought that she hadn’t even heard the crank.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” he said, climbing in next to her. “It was just the scours, but my dad refuses to use the modern way to get rid of it and instead insists on old wives’ methods. They are generally a lot riskier and smellier.” He laughed.

“That’s all right.” She smiled. “How did you learn so much about animals?”

“The local vet always let me watch and I sneaked over to his clinic whenever I had the chance. I think he would have taken me into his practice if he didn’t have his own son to put through veterinary school.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes, and Prudence relaxed, enjoying how comfortable he made her feel. “So why do you want to be both an animal doctor and a farmer? It seems like one would take up enough time,” she said.

“And then some,” he agreed. “But I love research as well, especially agricultural. I read a book a few years ago called
Agriculture, Science, and the Myth of Production
and it changed the way I looked at food production. My family was unwilling to try anything new that might make farming more efficient. I thought I could dabble in that while I worked as a vet.” He bit his lips as he looked out the front window. “I know, pipe dreams.”

“No, it’s not,” she assured him. “I’ve actually read some of Murcray’s book. It’s brilliant. Or what I read of it was.”

He turned to look at her, startled, and almost veered off the
road as a wheel got caught in a rut. He fought for several seconds before pulling the vehicle back up onto the road. “You what?”

“Did you think I couldn’t read?
Sir Philip
kept a variety of books on hand, and Murcray was a contemporary of his.”