Cousin Prudence (26 page)

“Washing can help Miss?  They do say you are betrothed to an expert in the disease as worked among the soldiers in the wars” he said.

Prudence laughed.

“Oh not at all” she said
, “my betrothed has some little knowledge of it for having fought in the wars; and having had it himself and recovered.  He is of the opinion that it is carried on body lice, and washing the body and the clothes thoroughly keeps them at bay and so does not permit the disease to spread; and ironing the seams kills the eggs.”

Saunders considered.

“Well, Miss Blenkinsop, thank you for the clear explanation; that I will spread when I deliver coal and explain what it is to be used for as well as warmth,” said Saunders.  “I will also loan out an iron to such as do not possess one.  If we may keep clear of infection – save for those hem Fellowes as are a disgrace to the community – then we shall be doing well.”

“Thank you Mr Saunders
,” said Prudence.

It all helped.  And as he sold flatirons he might readily loan one; and doubtless would hope that the difference it made would prompt others to purchase one too!
a man who understood that acts of kindness might too be acts to increase his business was a man to be encouraged.

Chapter 32

It might not be supposed that Arthur, though not disposed to help damsels in distress to the extent of having Typhus, would entirely manage to be able to avoid feminine entanglements.

The girls of Mrs Goddard’s excellent school were firmly chased out for healthful walks in all but the most inclement weather; which was to say when the fog had receded for once to a light haze, and the sun might be perceived to be blushing in shame at its inability to dissipate the mist.

Upon two of such girls did Mr Arthur Alver come, most unexpectedly, the one standing and wringing her hands, the other sat on the ground, white of face and clutching her ankle, which was several times larger than any ankle had the right to be.

“I say!” said Arthur “Are you hurt?” he considered and added, “stupid sort of question; I can see that you are hurt.  May I be of assistance?”

The injured girl was of the rather bouncing type of girl whom Arthur normally avoided; this accident however had rendered her somewhat more than harmless and she murmured a shy

“Oh if you please!”

“Emily – Miss Rawlinson – placed her foot awkwardly in a rabbit scrape
,” explained the other maiden, who looked to be of the kind who end up scrawny and either – in Arthur’s opinion – marry vicars because nobody else would want them, or end up acidulated old maids as companions to demanding dowagers or governesses to someone else’s prodigies.

“Well  the best thing to do is to bandage it
,” said Arthur, “and then take her to Mr Perry.  Let me see; I do not think a kerchief will do; it will have to be my cravat.  Is there a stream nearby Miss….?” He asked the other.  She simpered.

“Miss Potts
,” she said, “Miss Henrietta Potts.  I think there is one down by the stile.”

“Then I shall just go and wet the bandage
,” said Arthur, heading off to do so as he tore the cravat from about his neck.  Neither of the girls made him in any way wish to foreswear his vow of eschewing women; indeed he was glad that they came as a matched pair as one might say or avoiding an entanglement might have been hard!

He carried back his wetted cravat and proceeded to bind Miss Rawlinson’s foot.  It was no expert piece of work; but the cold water and the relief of the pressure made her give a little cry of sheer relief.

“Can you stand on it if we help you Em?” asked Miss Potts.

The idea of half carrying a young female for the time it would take her to hobble to the high street filled Arthur with horror.

“No need, Miss Rawlinson; I am sure you are quite light enough for me to manage,” he declared firmly.

Miss Rawlinson gave a little squeak; but was glad enough to be swept up in strong arms.  Arthur might not yet possess such fine shoulders as his uncle; but he was an athletic youth and his shoulders and arms were strong.  Miss Rawlinson might be rather an armful but Arthur had no difficulty.

And her obviously bandaged foot also meant that nobody should get the wrong idea.

He was glad to leave the girls at Mr Perry’s and stopped politely to explain what had happened when called upon by Miss Bates to come in for a dish of tea and do so.

“Upon my word, Mr Alver, you are the
soul
of courtesy; so
strong
too!” declared Miss Bates, “and how lucky for Miss Rawlinson that you happened along; for I am sure Miss Potts would never think of anything practical to do!   Pray, Mr Alver tell me – I have been meaning to ask – your name is so like that of the Noble Lord one cannot but wonder……”

Miss Bates had been wondering whether Mr Alver were a natural child of the Marquess, partially acknowledged.

“Eh?” said Arthur “Oh, Alver is our family name; my uncle’s full name is Gervase William Marcus Alexander Alver, Marquess of Alverston; I’m the son of the by-blow and black sheep of the family.  All my other uncles died respectably in battle, but my father and I were always permitted the name.  He only loaded me with a couple of names though; Arthur Selwyn.  Selwyn was the name of an uncle of my mother’s you see, from whom my father had expectations on my behalf, but the old man remarried in his seventies and sired half a dozen hopeful children after making it clear he wanted nothing to do with my father or me, so I do not really trouble to use it.”

“Dear me!” said Miss Bates, who was planning out how to write all this delicious information to dear J
ane. “How
very
interesting!”

“Oh do you think so?” said Arthur “It is a little more convenient to have a surname close to one’s title I should think; my Aunt Georgiana  is Georgiana, Lady Greyling, because her husband is Earl Greyling but the family name is Wrexham  and there was the most obnoxious woman that she met in Brighton who insisted on calling her ‘Mrs Greyling’ and asked if she was a remarried widow or if her children were illegitimate; fortunately Georgie – she refuses to be aunt, you know – has a sense of humour and saw the funny side.  She and Uncle Roger – her husband – took the children to the seaside you know, but Georgie said that Brighton is sadly overrated.  They go normally to Cromer which I understand is delightful.”

“Why yes; Mr Perry recommends Cromer also,” said Miss Bates, “it is said to have excellent beaches and a superior kind of air.  Very bracing I believe.”

Arthur laughed.

“For
bracing
I could recommend no more than Wethertop at Alverston; I do not believe that the wind ever stops blowing there.  It is capital for flying kites!  Uncle

Gervase always took Cousin Kitty and me there when we were small; by jove, he made a capital kite for us; I wonder if it is still at Alver House?  I must go and see next time I’m up there!  Miss Bates, is there anything I can get you at the shops while I am here?  I must call in to the haberdasher for a pair of gloves; I tore these ones on a thorn while I was reaching to dip my cravat in the water to bind Miss er……the young lady’s foot
,” Arthur having forgotten her name already, “and I doubt it will mend.”

“Why, Mr Alver! If you will leave it with me, I feel sure I can mend so trifling a
tear…. But if you would be
kind
enough to get me a peck of dried peas from the grocer I should be much obliged; I
thought
I had plenty, but when I came to look I discovered I was
quite
out; I was about to step out when I saw you come by.”

“I’d be delighted
,” said Arthur who quite enjoyed Miss Bates’ artless prattle.

It may be said that Miss Bates made so fine a mend to the small tear that Arthur was constrained to plant a kiss on her cheek ‘as one might do to the dear friend of so fine a fellow as George without causing offence’ as he said.  Miss Bates was very far from offended and thought wistfully how pleasant it might have been to have met so nice a young man as Mr Alver some twenty years previously!

Arthur was quite pleased to have given Miss Bates plenty to talk about without telling her anything; and left the peas with Patty, the maid, and went on his way whistling.

The barouche that bowled down the street had him starting in shock losing all desire to whistle any further; or rather one of its occupants did

“
Jupiter
!” said Arthur “What the
devil
is Kitty doing here?”

Arthur considered a barouche a very slow sort of vehicle to drive; if one wanted a big heavy vehicle, a chaise provided space and relative comfort for the passengers for being enclosed; the idea of a vehicle that had a folding top and not much room for luggage when one might, in his own words, dodge the raindrops with a decent sporting vehicle like a phaeton or a curricle, struck him as insane.  However, on perceiving that the equipage was driven by that sober young man Mr
Penrose he could perceive that so understated a vehicle would suit that youth’s personality.  His sober personality extended to the driving coat that was presently wrapped around Kitty.

Mr Penrose pulled his vehicle to a stop.

“Showy horses you have there Penrose,” said Arthur critically, “but I wouldn’t like to wager that the driver isn’t  throwing out a splint.  What are you doing with my cousin?”

“Throwing out a splint? Are you certain? I thought the gait was becoming uneven; I was exceedingly glad we were almost here.  We are here, aren’t we?  Only Kitty wanted to come and find you and Mrs Knightley and Miss Blenkinsop so I agreed, and here we are.”

“As Aunt Mouser would say, Gadzooks!” said Arthur, “here, Kitty, why are you being a watering pot?  Have some control do or you’ll spoil Penrose’s driving coat and it ain’t entirely the thing at the best of times!”

“Never mind my coat!” said Mr Penrose
, “Miss Fairlees has run away from her Aunt er Katherine and I need to know where we’re going.”

“Here, you climb up with Kit and I’ll take you
,” said Arthur,  “and then you and I had better retire to Donwell – it’s a stone’s throw from Hartfield where we’re going – and stay with Uncle Gervase; no point us hanging on Cousin Emma’s sleeve. If you don’t stop crying Kitty I’ll put you out and make you walk.”

“You can’t do that, Alver, it’s my barouche after all!” said Mr Penrose.

“Well make her stop or I might just show you how well I can,” said Arthur.  “
Why
does Uncle Gervase have to be engaged in a whimsical fit of charity when we need him to sort out whatever bumblebroth of a Cheltenham Tragedy Kitty has got herself into now!  Oh stop bridling, Penrose; she’s embroiled
me
in enough of her fits of the vapours and it usually turns out to be a complete hum!  Here we are; and Cowley can see to organising the baggage.  If you remembered to bring any.  Cowley, Miss Kitty Fairless, who is my cousin, will be staying; Mr Penrose and I will go to stay with my Uncle at Donwell.”

“Very good, Mr Alver” said Cowley in what he hoped was a colourless voice.  Mrs Emma wou
ld be wanting to know about
this
.

Chapter 33

“Oh Prudence!” wailed Kitty “I’ve run away from Aunt Mouser because she wants me to marry someone I don’t want to marry!”

Prudence, returning from Donwell to find Kitty being ensconced in the parlour by Cowley sat down beside her.

“Kitty, somehow I doubt that Aunt Mouser is going to force you into marriage if you are
against the idea.  Have you
told
her that you are against the idea?”

Kitty sobbed more.

“No; she was so
keen
on the idea and I do not like to go against the wishes of others in case their feelings are hurt!”

“You are a goose, Kitty
,” said Prudence, “Aunt Mouser’s feelings are going to be hurt a good deal more for you running out on her like that!  Do you want to marry Mr Penrose?”