Cousin Prudence (20 page)

As Mr Woodhouse improved, Emma decided it was time to tell him her news.

“Papa, I am glad you are feeling better,” she said, “because you have such a lot to look forward to!  For you are to be a grandfather yet again!”

Mr Woodhouse blinked.

“Isabella is with child again?  Why has she not told me this?  A sixth child is surely too many for her health!” he cried.

“Not Isabella papa; it is I who am with c
hild.  I
am
married so it is a perfectly regular occurrence,” said Emma.

“Poor Emma!” cried Mr Woodhouse
, “how has this happened?  It is so soon!”

“Why papa, it has happened in the normal fashion
,” said Emma, “and we have been married now for half a year, so it is not so very soon; it is a most
welcome
addition to our family that we should have a child; it is a most natural part of marriage.  Do you so dislike the thought?” her big blue eyes filled with tears “
dear
papa, I thought you would be pleased; but if you so dislike the thought of a child – of
children –
at Hartfield then I will speak to George, and when you are recovered we shall see to retiring to Donwell.”

“My dear Emma!” Mr Woodhouse’s voice held lively alarm
, “I pray you, do not leave me to go to Donwell!  It was just a shock, so
sudden
!  My
poor
Emma, to be with child so soon!  I had not looked for it yet! You put a brave face on it, but it must be a shock for you also!”

“Papa, you do not love me!” cried Emma, sobbing in earnest
, “you do not want me to have a child! I want to have George’s children!”

“But Emma, my dear Emma, surely you do not mean that?  You are so young!” Mr Woodhouse was distressed.

Prudence had heard Emma’s noisy sobs and came into Mr Woodhouse’s bedroom.

“Stop that Emma; it is bad for baby
,” she said crisply, “I know that your condition makes a woman inclined towards tears and maudlin expressions of hysteria but you must consider your child.  What is the matter?”

“Papa does not want me to have a baby!” cried Emma.

“Well it is a little late for that now,” said Prudence practically, “Besides, Uncle Henry, it is Emma who is to have the baby; it would be time to fret if anyone suggested that you should bear the labour pains for her.  I cannot see the objection; since it is six months after your wedding not six months before, when any fond parent might have a right to feel a certain amount of pained antipathy to the whole idea.”

Emma’s tears turned to sudden whoops of slightly hysterical laughter.

“Oh P-Pru you are quite priceless!” she declared.  “Why yes, papa; you should consider that!”

“It is a shock
,” complained Mr Woodhouse, regarding the hysterical behaviour of his daughter with alarm.

“Why Uncle Henry, you do not want Mrs Elton to repeat what I have heard she has been saying that as Emma shows no signs yet of breeding that t
here is
something wrong with her
do you?” said Prudence craftily.

Mr Woodhouse sat bolt upright in indignation.

“
Did
she indeed!  Well you are to take no notice of her Emma; there is nothing wrong with you, or George or the baby!  And so she will see!” he declared.  “
Poor
Prudence being subjected to such unpleasant tattle-mongering!”

“I will take Emma to lie down now, Uncle Henry and bring you up a nice posset
,” said Prudence, “with nutmeg in to calm your nerves; you will like it.”

“What has that female been saying exactly?” demanded Emma when ensconced on a day bed with a cushion under her ankles.

“May I be forgiven for lying to reconcile your father to the idea, nothing yet
,” said Prudence, “but I fancy I have the measure of her sufficiently to guess what she might say, horrid old cat that she is.”

“I for one believed every word and did not doubt it of her
,” said Emma, “is it not awful to feel so uncharitable towards someone that it is easy to believe the worst of them?”

“You are more charitable than I dear sweet
Emma,” said Prudence, “I should like to give a financial inducement to a small boy to fill her pockets with mice and her house with dead fish.”

Emma giggled.

“One might like to contemplate it…..” she said wistfully “But consider the strain on the system of the poor innocent mice!”

They both giggled.

Chapter 26

The next morning brought a surprise visitor.  Cowley, the butler announced,

“Mr Alver,” and Arthur walked in.

“Arthur!” said George “Have you had word from Alverston?”

“Devil a bit,” said Arthur, “hello Knightley, Mrs Knightley” he added to John and Isabella “I thought I’d foist myself on you for a while.”

“Arthur you haven’t brought Miss Bullivant and are keeping her from her aunt or anything have you?” asked Prudence with deep suspicion.

He looked upset.

“I haven’t been taking her anywhere!” he said, looking suddenly no older than small Henry after a tumble “She’s gone and eloped with Mr Paulson!”

Emma caught George’s eye and had to indulge in a coughing fit.  George patted her hard on the back. This was once that Emma
had
guessed correctly; and George hid a rueful grin that she would never let him forget it.

The tragedy on Arthur’s face was comic to an outsider but none the less real to the boy.

“Come and sit down Arthur, and tell us all about it,” said George, “and Prudence shall ring for tea.”

“I don’t understand; who is Miss Bullivant?” demanded Isabella. “I have never heard of her.”

“Yes you have Cousin Isabella,” said Prudence, “she is called Clara; it was she who made so many good suggestions about how to build up Uncle Henry’s health.”

“She is the young lady who was with George and Emma and Prudence when I arrived at the house
,” said John, “a pleasant young lady I thought.”

“Yes; and she has written me a letter so smudged in tears apologising for running out in such a manner I’d never have deciphered it if I was not used to my uncle’s damnable hand – oh I do beg your pardon ladies!” he added in consternation.

“Forgiven, Arthur,” said Emma, now in control of herself.  “And she’s fled with Mr Paulson?  Why did she need to flee?”

“I have no idea
,” said Arthur, “some strange idea in her attic I suppose; girls are like that.  Look how Kitty had me run off with her just because she got the wind up about telling Uncle Gervase she did not want to marry him; and that turned out perfectly well.  Would never have thought it of Paulson; always thought him a steady type; full of good sense.  Anyway, as she did not want me, and it was her own business who she married I thought I’d come here for a bit of good company and some sensible conversation.”

“
Poor
Arthur!” said Emma “You must stay as long as you like; though I warn you, village life can be both humdrum and full of gossip!”

“Well, b
y Jupiter, if anyone wants to know, tell them I’ve come to make an offer for the redoubtable Hester who I hear turns not a hair at riding with Pru behind m’Uncle’s wild colts,” said Arthur in the sort of tone that suggested that his pride was dented far more than his heart.

“She would undoubtedly slap your face
,” said Prudence.

“Cousin Prudence!  What is this about wild colts?” demanded Isabella shocked.

“Cousin Isabella, if you knew Arthur as well as we did you would know he is prone to the most outrageous flippancy and exaggeration,” said Prudence calmly, “Alverston was completing the final training of some colts and invited me to drive behind them with him; they were a little skittish and inclined to want to run.  It was quite stimulating.”

“Oh I see!” said Isabella.

George mouthed ‘bravo’ at Prudence for her carefully balanced tone of disinterest; and Prudence smiled demurely at him.  She knew that any defensiveness in her

manner would have been noticed in a trice by Isabella.  The amused near boredom made her cousin promptly lose interest.

John Knightley on the other hand shot her a shrewd look.  Prudence’s green eyes were limpid pools of innocence.  John gave her a half smile of appreciation and a small nod of the head. 

What Prudence did was her own business; but he was pleased that she had spared Isabella worry.

Arthur had opened his mouth to dispute his level of exaggeration, caught George’s eye and shut it again, flushing.  George smiled.  Arthur was still somewhere between the schoolroom and adulthood; but he was acquiring some measure of tact – when prompted at least.

Emma had the happy idea of suggesting to her father that Arthur might visit him in his room; for Mr Woodhouse was well enough to find bed rest tedious but not well enough to do more than sit out in a chair for an hour.  The diversion of a new face with a fund of good stories would cheer him up no end.

Arthur was happy to oblige; everyone in town knew all his best stories – or had participated in them – so a new audience was welcome.  He soon had Mr Woodhouse chuckling between deploring the risks that had been taken by such feats as races on the Great North Road without proper mufflers to preserve the health of the racers, never mind the prodigious speed at which they allegedly travelled.

Emma did interrupt when Arthur claimed eighteen miles an hour for one team.

“Doing it
too
brown Arthur!” she protested “Why Alverston does not claim more than sixteen miles an hour with his colts!”

“Well it may be an exaggeration
,” grinned Arthur, “but a sawyer will always claim to go faster in his curricle when not being timed, even as a fisherman always had a bigger one that gets away.”

“Dear me, I am most glad to hear it an exaggeration
,” said Mr Woodhouse, “for that must surely be coming close to the speed at which human life is in jeopardy because the air can no longer enter the lungs properly at high velocities.  A most frightening prospect to be suffocated by sheer speed!  I have heard it said that at perhaps twenty miles an hour and certainly twenty five, life would become extinct in very short order!”

“You are very knowledgeable about such things papa
,” said Emma admiringly.

Mr Woodhouse felt so cheered by Mr Alver that he managed to come downstairs for an hour on the morrow where he, John, George and Arthur debated the reasons for the cold weather.  George held to the theory that Alverston also endorsed that it was caused by dust from volcanoes blocking out the sun, the theory propounded by the famous experimental scientist Benjamin Franklin; John held that it was caused by sunspots, which was a theory he had heard spoken of in a London coffee house that had been put forward by an eminent member of the Royal Society whose name John could not recall. Arthur held the theory that dust in the atmosphere caused the dry fog all right but that it was caused by all the musket fire over years of war.  Mr Woodhouse sighed and said that if Arthur was right then it was a judgement on all mankind for their wickedness in fighting wars and he only hoped it might not be a precursor to Armageddon.

John said that this was highly unlikely as temperature had been known to fluctuate before and had not ice fairs been quite common
in the mid seventeenth century, for there was a most famous one held in the reign of Charles II when bonfires were lit on the Thames with no diminution to the thickness of the ice and all kinds of extravagant diversions were devised for the amusement of that flamboyant monarch.

Mr Woodhouse was moved to go and look for the almanac he had purchased at the beginning of the year to

see how accurate it might be so far in the hopes that there might be further excellent prediction; but upon turning to the entry of the second week in May found only an entry that the ‘warm weather that promotes growth is set fair for yet another week at least with the promise of gentle showers to aid the growing of the land.”.

The rain had been falling steadily all day and there had been no sun since the day Emma and Prudence had taken the boys for a walk. 

Mr Woodhouse said,

“Well at least this may be useful for one thing; and the fire burns low
,” and proceeded to cast the offending publication into the grate. The other men applauded.