He finished his meal and rose. “Will you drive out with me later?”
“Drive?”
“In an open chair. We can see more of the grounds.”
“I’d like that.”
He came to her, reaching into his pocket. “A gift for you, my wife.”
It was a pretty brooch of cream and reddish stones that she knew would look well on her rust-colored outfit.
“Not suitable for mourning, alas,” she said.
“No, but that time will pass. There are more—all the family jewels, in fact, but I won’t fight Mother for the ones she clings to unless you insist. Artemis gave up the family pieces she had, of course. That brooch came from those.”
Which meant Prudence certainly couldn’t wear it where Artemis might see it. Despite the woman’s behavior, she’d not cause her any pain.
“I shall indulge in giving you a minor ornament a day,” he said, “but as soon as possible I will buy you something more magnificent.”
“Extravagance,” she chided.
“Investment. I’m having the settlements drawn up to provide your pin money and jointure, but any gifts I give you will also be yours unless I specify otherwise.”
“Mine when you die. I don’t want to think about that.”
“Nor do I. Let it be decades into the future. But if I leave you a widow, I want you to be comfortable and independent.”
“Independent,” she echoed. “It hardly seems possible.”
“Perhaps you’d like to be a merry widow soon,” he teased.
“No, never.”
“Not, at least, for fifty years or so.” He came to drop a kiss on her lips and then left.
Prudence went over it all in her mind. He wasn’t angry with her. He couldn’t imagine her unwilling, so why had nothing happened? Everyone placed such importance on the wedding night. The actual night.
She remembered reading one of her father’s books and finding reference to the display of bloody sheets. She’d gone to her mother in distress, which had led to her mother scolding her father that some books not be left around the house.
Her mother hadn’t explained the blood, but said that she would when the time was right. That time had never come. Prudence understood the blood now, but not this delay.
Perhaps she was supposed to do something, just as she was supposed to ring the dinner bell for the courses. Perhaps she should hunt for the concealed husband-summoning bell.
She chuckled, but just in case, she did go and search.
Alas, no.
She summoned Karen to have the breakfast cleared away, amused to notice that that meant Karen going away to summon lower servants to do the task. Ranks, again. Did some of the lower servants now have to curtsy to the girl?
The situation ceased to be amusing. Karen must not be returned to her lowly station. Prudence knew how she’d feel to be returned to White Rose Yard. Cate had said it would be possible to keep her as some sort of junior lady’s maid, but carelessly. From what she knew of the ordered ranks of the servants’ hall, it wouldn’t be as simple as that.
She put that aside for now, for it would be some time before she hired a proper lady’s maid, and her immediate concern was to take up her duties.
She would not skulk again. She had mourning clothes of a sort, and must establish her authority. She summoned the housekeeper and went over the day’s menus. She even signed her first document—an approval of a purchase of tea, and was consulted on a problem.
“I’m sorry to say, milady, that the pastry cook has left.”
“Left?” Prudence said. “Why?”
“He felt he was not appreciated, my lady.”
“By whom?”
The woman pursed her lips, and Prudence knew the answer was herself. It had to be Artemis’s work, and as a result the housekeeper was now distant.
“I found his cakes delicious,” she said firmly. “Has he truly left? Can we not persuade him to change his mind?”
“I believe he departed at first light to catch a coach to London. Many have tried to tempt him away, milady.”
“Then we must tempt one equally good from somewhere else.”
Prudence hid it, but she was furious. Where would her sister-in-law shoot her poisoned darts next? It was bad enough to have skilled servants leave, but ill-humored servants could wreak havoc in all kinds of subtle ways. She’d heard of such things from the servants’ side. Will Larn was an ostler at the Crown Inn, and if a traveler didn’t tip the servants enough, he’d get cold food and damp sheets.
What she needed to counter Artemis was to make some changes that would be to the servants’ benefit.
“I will inspect the servants’ bedrooms,” she said.
The housekeeper stiffened. “Why, milady?”
Prudence resented the question, but she answered, “To see if I can improve their comfort.”
Mistress Ingleton probably saw this as trespassing on her authority, but Prudence wouldn’t back down. She knew it was the lady of the house’s responsibility to see to the welfare of her servants.
She did find a few improvements to make, such as some windows to be repaired so that they closed snugly and opened smoothly. She knew all about the cold in winter and the heat in summer. She noticed that many of the water jugs and basins were chipped, clearly being ones used in the family part of the house and then passed down. She ordered that they be replaced with plain ones.
Would the servants feel grateful or resentful?
She had no idea.
She then went over the servants’ food allowances.
There were separate menus for the upper servants and the lower, so they must eat separately. That meant, she realized, that Karen was now eating in a different place with companions who must resent her.
Having approved the food, she escaped into the flower gardens, but kept near the terrace just in case Draydale had sent minor demons to invade the estate. It seemed impossible, but she knew he must be seething with the need to hit out again, and more effectively. She rubbed her cheek, where the bruise was almost gone, wishing she’d refused to have anything to do with the man.
She decided she could walk as far as the swing, which was within sight of the house. Perhaps she’d sit in it and see if she could swing it herself. When she got there, however, she noticed one rope frayed down to threads.
Draydale’s work?
“What a shame. I hoped you’d be foolish enough to attempt it without looking.”
Prudence turned to face Artemis. “This is petty. You’re wrong to hate Cate, but why attack me? I’ve done nothing to harm you.”
“He loves you,” Artemis said.
Prudence almost protested, but that would be to reveal too much. “He’s done nothing to harm you or yours, and your bile will choke you.”
Artemis turned away, refusing to respond.
“If I have to, I’ll force you out,” Prudence said.
Artemis turned back. “He’s promised I can stay.”
“I’m less softhearted than he is. Why stay, Artemis? It can bring you nothing but pain.” But then Prudence realized. “It’s the memory of paradise, isn’t it? But the paradise is gone. Nothing you can do can bring it back.”
Artemis flinched as if hit, and then walked away.
Prudence looked sadly at the swing, but then took action. She returned to the house and ordered Flamborough to have it repaired. It probably didn’t come under his command, but he could arrange it.
Then she went to the library and removed more books. That might be petty, but she would not be cowed. She’d just ordered a footman to take them up to her boudoir when Cate found her.
“It’s nearly dinnertime.”
Prudence wanted to plead that they eat at the small table in her boudoir, but she couldn’t afford to hide.
“Has your morning had more point today?” she asked.
“In fact, yes. There are some local disputes to do with land. I still don’t understand the finer aspects of agriculture, but I can see the importance of water, drainage, and pasture.” He explained the situation. She didn’t understand it either but she loved talking of such things with him. Such sharing was a great part of a marriage, surely, and it was good.
She told him about her improvements to the servants’ rooms. “There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? Mistress Ingleton seemed put out.”
“Not that I know. You could ask Artemis.”
She suppressed a sigh as they entered the dining room, and then halted.
Both Artemis and the dowager were present. At least, the short, plump, disapproving woman in black had to be Cate’s mother, no matter how little she resembled the slim young woman in the wedding portrait.
“Mother,” Cate said, bowing slightly. “It’s good to see your appetite restored. And you, Artemis.”
Both women curtsied, smiling with lips only. The dowager’s dark eyes were taking in every detail of Prudence. She wished she weren’t in the shabby dyed blue and that she’d taken the time to make sure her hair was tidy.
The other diners were the same, but Artemis and the dowager had places opposite each other in the middle of the table, separating the sisters and the old gentlemen.
As Cate escorted Prudence to her place, she was aware of yet again usurping something so recently belonging to her angry sister-in-law. But this was simply the way it was, the wheel of fate. Once Artemis had taken over these duties from the dowager.
She sat, smiled, and rang the golden bell. A soup was brought first today—a white soup with the delicious flavor of almonds.
Prudence looked down the table. “We must compliment the cook, Malzard. This is particularly delicious.”
He inclined his head. “Especially for delighting you, my love.”
She almost spilled the soup on her spoon, but, of course, he’d said it only for effect. All the same, it showed he was supporting her.
“The Keynings cook is excellent, Lady Malzard,” Optimus Goode said, reminding her that she hadn’t confessed her untruth to Cate. She’d had the opportunity, but forgotten. Perhaps on purpose.
She asked him if he’d read
Candide.
He sniffed. “I don’t care for modern work, my lady.”
“I see. I found it oddly pessimistic.”
“I found it true to life,” said the dowager. “There are too many people who claim things to be pretty that are not.”
“Truly, ma’am?” Prudence said. “I find that often people complain about problems that could easily be corrected.”
“That’s true,” said Miss Catesby, an unexpected ally. “It’s usually quite easy to make the best of things.”
“Of my son’s death?” challenged the dowager.
Prudence just managed to restrain herself from snapping back,
You have a live son, ma’am
. Instead, she rang the bell. The soup plates were removed and the first course set around the table. The butler poured wine. She tried desperately to find something safe to say.
Cate said, “The silk weavers of Spitalfields are in some distress. I hope none of you ladies will buy foreign silk.”
“Are we to be dictated to by such people?” the dowager demanded.
“Isn’t it wise, Mother, to support our own workers rather than those of our enemy, France?”
Artemis said, “We’re not at war anymore, Malzard,” as if she spoke to an imbecile.
“But will be again,” he replied. “I have no doubt of that. May I pass you the potatoes, Mr. Coates?”
“Thank you, thank you,” the old man said. “An interesting food, the potato. Caused some deaths when first brought to this land, for people ate the fruits of the flowers, which are quite poisonous, though related to the tomato, which is not. Though in fact, some still fear to eat the tomato because of the plant’s slight resemblance to the potato.”
“So easily grown by the poor,” said Miss Cecily. “The potato, I mean. Very little effort, I understand. We have received many of God’s blessings from abroad, have we not?”
“Like the Black Death?” asked the dowager. “And the plague.”
Prudence bit her lip on laughter. This was ridiculous. She saw Cate fighting the same impulse.
“I’ve received an interesting letter,” Artemis said. “From Darlington.”
Prudence lost all temptation to laugh. The news had arrived. But how much of it?
“An account of our wedding, I assume,” Cate said. “I’m sure it was a minor wonder there.”
Artemis’s face pinched, as if she would have preferred to draw it out. “My friend Anne Chaloner lives there now. Yes, your wedding was a notable affair, but oddly no one seems to know yet that the groom was the Earl of Malzard. Of course, Anne recognized your name, but she can be relied on to keep the matter secret.”
“It’s not a secret, Artemis. There simply seemed no point in drawing the attention of hoi polloi.”
“If you’d married in a normal manner,” his mother said, “there’d have been no need to conceal anything! This has been poorly handled from the start.”
“I had the notion, Mother, that if I brought Prudence here as my promised bride, you might attempt to prevent the marriage.”
“Well, of course I would.”
Prudence knew her cheeks were turning red and wished they weren’t, for it might look like guilt. Cate wasn’t reddening. She’d be hard put to say what was revealed by his still features—until she realized it was danger.
No wonder the dowager had fallen silent.
“I would take it amiss,” he said into the silence, “if anything were said to upset my wife.”
“I’m sure no one would wish to do that,” said Miss Catesby quickly.
“Of course not,” said her sister.
The two elderly gentlemen were very deliberately paying attention to their food.
Prudence knew she had to say something. “Please don’t feel distressed, sister. There’s no shame in relaying news that must reach here soon anyway.”
Artemis stared at her. “Shame? You’re the one who should feel shame. How can you claim to love Catesby, when you were at the altar about to marry someone else?”
One or both Catesby cousins gasped.