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Authors: Jo Beverley

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BOOK: An Unlikely Countess
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“What can anyone do, though?” Hetty wailed. “I just thought, with you marrying ’im, and ’im so . . . well, lordly, and you living in an earl’s house . . . I didn’t know where else to turn. Me family’s no use in this. I didn’t even dare leave the little ’uns, because there’s something not
right
about it, sir. There isn’t.”
Prudence had a shocking thought. She looked at Cate and mouthed,
Draydale?
His eyes widened, but then he nodded, his face turning grim.
He asked, “What makes you think it anything but an unfair accusation?”
“There’s been other things, sir. A few nights ago, someone smashed in the windows in yer old ’ouse, Pru, and threw in oily rags aflame. The Armstrongs who live there now stopped the fire, but no one could imagine who’d do such a thing. Then the pump down the yard wouldn’t work, and it turned out to have been tampered with.”
Draydale
. Sending messages—that he’d hurt them through others, and perhaps even that he knew about White Rose Yard and would use it in his revenge.
Petty stuff to begin with, but the tampered coach wheel could have killed or injured them, and this latest move could get Will Larn hanged.
“Where’s your husband now?” Cate asked.
“In jail, and that’s a nasty, dirty place, sir. I went to see ’im, but had nothing to take ’im because the bailiffs didn’t let us. The jailer scarcely let us have a moment together. I told him I were coming to you, sir. You and Pru. Someone said he could go on trial tomorrow!”
“Magistrate only,” Cate said. “If they judge him guilty he’ll be held until the assize. I’ll have taken care of everything by then. Don’t worry.”
“But what can you
do
?” Hetty wailed. “I thought you could, but the law’s the law, and they found three guineas and some other things in his bag, where he hangs it in the stables when he gets to work. There’s nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do.”
Prudence said, “Hetty, my husband’s the Earl of Malzard. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but we wanted to keep it quiet for a day or two more.”
“An
earl
?” Hetty was reacting with the same disbelief Prudence had shown when he’d confessed it, but he did look more the part now. “Lawks,” she said, but in an awed whisper. “But, Pru, that means . . . You’re a
milady
?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Lawks!”
“I’m still just Pru to you, but you’ll see that my husband does have powers to put matters right.”
“Oh.” Hetty stared at him, dabbing her eyes. “Oh.” Then she broke down in tears on Prudence’s chest.
The rector appeared to ask whether help was needed, but he looked reluctant and disapproving. No parish liked to have vagrants expecting help from local funds. Prudence wished she could take Hetty up to Keynings, but where could she fit there? Not in one of the grand bedchambers, for sure. Was there a vacant cottage on the estate?
Cate said, “Mistress Larn and her children are coming up to Keynings with us, Loveday. Have any of the carriages waited?”
“Yes, milord,” said the rector, astonished now.
The two children had sunk into a doze and they hardly woke as Cate picked them up. Prudence picked up Toby, and helped Hetty up and out to the carriage.
Hetty held back, as if afraid to enter. “We’re too dirty for those fine seats.”
“Nonsense. In you go, Hetty. All will be well. We’ll find you a place to rest, and there’ll be food too. When did you last eat?”
“Before,” Hetty said, sitting stiffly on the brocade-covered seat. “I ’ad no money, you see. People aren’t kind in the country to weary strangers, are they?”
“Not if they look like vagrants,” Prudence admitted.
The Stonehouses had been generous, but they would have been much warier about a ragged group, and with reason. Often such people were flea-ridden pilferers at best and outright thieves at worst.
“My father lamented the destruction of the monasteries,” she said, “for at their best they provided charity for all, and they could deal with thievery and other problems.”
“Whereas now,” Cate said, “the parishes are responsible for such services, which means the ratepayers. They’re naturally reluctant to support other people’s problems. True Christianity can prove difficult in practice, can’t it?”
But you are a true Christian
, Prudence thought,
for all your high birth and privilege
. She did still wonder, however, where they were to house Hetty and the children.
At Keynings Cate ordered the carriage to take them to an entrance on the north side. “There’s at least one spare suite of rooms there,” he said to Prudence. “It will do for now.”
He’d provide accommodation at Keynings? That was more than she’d expected, and a part of her shivered at how the other residents would react. How would the Catesby sisters, Optimus Goode, and Mr. Coates respond to such neighbors?
She tried to put aside such fears. Keynings was her home, hers and Cate’s, to manage as they wished. She only prayed Hetty wouldn’t be overawed to the point of discomfort.
Hetty was astonished by the rooms, and yes, nervous, but the needs of her children overrode that. Cate had been about to put them in the bed, but she said, “Can I find water to wash ’em first, Pru? They’re fast asleep, the poor mites, but they’ll soil the sheets something terrible.”
“Of course,” Prudence said, but she saw no bell ropes here.
“I’ll send someone,” Cate said, putting the children gently on the settee.
When he left, Hetty exclaimed, “That’ll be worse to clean than sheets!”
“He won’t care. He’ll only have thought that the bed will be more comfortable clean.”
“Oh, Pru. Such a lovely man, but it don’t feel right t’be here.”
“Of course it’s right. You’re my guests.”
A maid as young and lowly as Karen came in with a jug of hot water, followed by another with a jug of cold. They were both wide-eyed at events, but showed no insolence.
Prudence thanked them and sent the first one for food. “Something simple and quickly provided, if you please. And a bowl of water for the dog.”
Toby was as tired as the rest, and had curled up near the children to go to sleep, but he’d need to come and go. So many details.
Prudence helped wash the dusty children, who hardly stirred, and she almost cried at the blisters on Willie’s feet.
“And he never complained,” said Hetty, kissing the spots. “The brave little man.”
“I suspect you have blisters too,” Prudence said.
“Aye, but I understood the necessity. I’m not sure he did.”
They tucked the children into the big bed, and then went to the parlor, where the food was laid out—bread, meat, cheese, and a small jug of beer.
With a dog’s instinct, Toby woke to trot after them. He drank from the bowl, then looked urgently at the table. Prudence put some of the cold beef on the floor for him.
“When the children wake, Hetty, send for milk for them, and anything else they need.”
“How?” Hetty asked.
“An excellent question. I’ve hardly sorted out such things myself. I’ll arrange for a maid to attend you here, ready to run errands.”
“Oh, Pru . . .”
“Don’t object. It’s the only way. This is a vast place.”
“If you think it’s best.” Hetty took a deep drink of the beer. “I really should call you ‘your ladyship,’ shouldn’t I? You so grand an’ all.”
“Don’t you go doing that,” Prudence teased, “or I’ll call you Hesther. I’m glad you came to me, Hetty. I think I know the cause of your misery, and it all comes back to me, so it’s for me and my husband to put all right, which we will.”
“He’s that sort of man, isn’t he?” Hetty said, biting into a piece of bread. “One who gets things done, like me father.”
The comparison made Prudence smile, but it was true—it was a quality that didn’t depend on rank.
“Yes, he is. Be at ease here, Hetty, for you are my first guests, and you are very dear to me.”
“Me?” Hetty said.
“You.” Prudence realized how true that was. Hetty was a dear friend, and she wanted to keep her nearby. Somehow. “You’re honest, kind, and strong,” she said, “and I’ve truly missed your haverbread.”
Hetty chuckled. “Go on with you. When you have food like this?”
“I enjoy the food here, but sometimes food is more than food.”
 
Prudence left the room feeling strangely liberated. It wasn’t only that she had a friend—a friend who meant more to her than she’d realized—but that she’d perforce shed her fretfulness about being a perfect countess. She was herself, and that would have to do. People now knew most of the worst about her, directly or by implication, so nothing hung over her head.
And Cate . . . Cate—his kindness to Hetty and her children had sealed her devotion to him. She was the most fortunate of women. She wanted to go to him immediately, but she must attend to other matters first. She returned to her boudoir and summoned the housekeeper.
“Is it possible for one of the maids who brought water to my guests to be their attendant for a while, Mistress Ingleton?”
“Why, yes, milady.” But the woman was startled.
“Will she feel demeaned by it? I’ll have no discourtesy to my
friend.
”
The housekeeper’s reaction to that was unreadable, but she said, “Clarry will enjoy the lighter work, I’m sure. So long as the guests don’t behave badly.”
Prudence decided anger at that wouldn’t serve. “Mistress Larn and her children were unfairly evicted from their home, Mistress Ingleton, which is why they arrived here in distress. They had to walk here from Northallerton. They are resting now, but when they wake they will need clean clothing. Can we provide such?”
“Yes, milady,” the housekeeper said, looking more sympathetic. Everyone knew their world could be unfair at times.
“They are to have everything and anything they request,” Prudence said, then saw another way to appease the housekeeper. “I believe you have a miraculous salve, Mistress Ingleton. The little boy in particular could use some when he wakes. His feet are blistered.”
“Oh, the poor child. I’ll see Clarry has some, milady.”
Prudence thanked the woman warmly, and once she’d left, blew out a breath. That had perhaps gone well. Next she needed to speak to Cate. He’d been kind and hospitable, but how would he react to her desire to keep Hetty here? Not in the house, but nearby. Will worked with horses. There could be a place for him in the stables. They could have a cottage nearby. One could be built if necessary.
She could imagine the problems. She wanted Hetty as a friend, but that would create a new pandemonium if it put the servants’ and tenants’ noses out of joint. It could even further damage her reputation with the local gentry. She could imagine what Artemis would make of it, probably assisted by the dowager and the Catesby sisters.
What was more, Hetty might not be comfortable in that situation. She was the type to want to be part of her community. If she was seen as a privileged outsider, she’d be miserable. Prudence rubbed her forehead, definitely needing to discuss this with Cate. Or rather, simply needing to be with Cate.
When she sent Karen to inquire, however, she learned that he was closeted with his senior officers. He must have summoned them from their Sunday dinner, so it was urgent, and she knew the topic under discussion.
Draydale. News of his vicious spite made speedy action necessary, and she hoped Cate could make the man suffer as he deserved.
But what should she do now? She had no interest in dinner.
When they woke, the children would appreciate amusements such as books and playthings. She went upward in search of the nurseries and schoolrooms. She remembered passing them on her first tour of the house, but it took some trial and error to find them.
As she approached, she heard voices. Of course. They weren’t unused. Artemis’s daughters and their attendants were up here. Would Artemis object to this invasion? She entered the nursery parlor with trepidation and winced to find not only the three girls, but Artemis herself, looking frosty.
The room was small and comfortably furnished in a style able to cope with children. Shelves held a number of books, and there were also dolls, a dollhouse, blocks, and other amusements. How wondrous it would seem to Willie and Sarah.
“Forgive my intrusion,” Prudence said. “I’ve brought Mistress Larn and her children back to the house, and settled them in the north wing for now. They’re asleep at the moment, but I wondered if there were some playthings or learning materials that could be spared.”
The two older girls had risen and curtsied, but they stood like statues. The toddler sitting on the floor with a jumble of blocks smiled. Prudence smiled back before she thought of it. The child scrambled to her feet and ran over to Prudence’s skirts, laughing.
Prudence glanced at her sister-in-law, but as Artemis didn’t object, she picked up the delightful child and kissed her cheek. “Aren’t you a precious, me hinny?” She realized she’d used a fond term from White Rose Yard but was past caring. She smiled at the two other girls. “A good day to you.”
They dipped curtsies again and said good day, but still in that distant way. Clearly Artemis had painted her in dark shades.
Prudence tried to create some warmth. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know your names, my dears.”
They glanced at their mother, as if names were a secret.
Artemis sighed. “May I present Flavia, my oldest daughter.” The tallest one curtsied. “And Julia, my second daughter.” Another curtsy. “My youngest child is Maria.”
At the sound of her mother’s voice, little Maria squirmed to go to her, so Prudence carried her over.
Artemis took the child, who settled against her shoulder. “By all means, take what you wish, sister.”
Prudence looked around, wondering which toys were special to her nieces. “Perhaps you could choose some,” she said to Flavia and Julia. “Are there any playthings suitable for a boy? And books. They are only just beginning to read.”
BOOK: An Unlikely Countess
12.98Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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