“What do you know of this young man, dear Prudence?”
“Why uncle Henry, beside that he tipped me into a ditch – he had come here solely to apologise you know - I know nothing save that he is the nephew of an obnoxiously arrogant man called Alverston who did at least leave his groom to render Joseph assistance in removing my chaise from the ditch
,” she said.
“And this Mr Alverston would not wait and assist you himself?” asked Mr Woodhouse indignantly.
“So I too thought odd, though apparently this young Mr Alver was on his way to do something foolish which Alverston – and I am given to understand by his groom that it is Lord, not Mr – wished to stop him doing,” said Prudence, “one has to assume that any man must put family first I suppose. I do not know all the facts so I suppose I should not judge; bar that I found his manner overbearing” she added.
“
Lord
Alverston?” Mr Woodhouse was impressed despite himself. “well to have wrung an apology from the nephew of a lord is quite something, my dear Prudence; my felicitations!”
“Why should I not have?” said Prudence tartly
, “he was at fault. He is a silly boy, this Mr Alver, but amiable enough. It is plain however that he goes in lively fear of his uncle; which strikes me as poor spirited.”
“Not an accusat
ion which may be levelled at
you,
my dear cousin” murmured George.
Prudence beamed at him. Cousin George was a good man; he could check her impetuosity and spirited outbursts as her dear papa checked her, without being offensive about it. He was worthy of her beautiful and wonderful cousin Emma!
Chapter 6
Prudence had been there only a few days, but Emma thought blissfully it was as though she had always been there as a little sister.
“I would so have liked a little sister,” she confided to George, “and when I was the silly girl who made so many blunders, it would have been to guide her and arrange her life for her. But Pru is the little sister I never had and she truly is a friend in the same way as my dear Mrs Weston was when she was my governess; someone to talk to and speak of those things one does not confide to a gentleman, be he the dearest gentleman on earth,” at which she smiled coquettishly up at her husband, who kissed her tenderly.
“I quite understand, my dearest
Emma,” he said, “that Prudence has turned out to have as lively a mind as yourself, means that you do not find her as… tedious as some might be. Though I fear you would come close to pulling caps if the pair of you disagreed!”
Emma laughed.
“Oh Prudence is so convivial and open that we have even discussed that; and she has told me that to fall out in the idiom of Yorkshire is to ‘fratch’; it is such an ugly word, and so appropriate for an ugly display of disharmony! We have sworn that if we start to fight, one of us is to say that ugly word and it will then bring us to our senses. Is that not a good idea?”
“Admirable
,” said Mr Knightley, “Providing one of you manages to remember to say it to pull yourselves up short; perhaps I should undertake to use the word if a situation arises that both of you are so incensed that you both forget.”
Emma cried out in delight.
“Why George! How very clever you are!” she said “Though I am almost sure we shall not need you to do so, yet it is an admirable solution should we be too consumed by our own visions to recall our vow!”
George was perhaps less optimistic than Emma over how often he might be required to intercede once the lustre of novelty had worn off having a cousin; but he merely smiled. Sometimes with Emma it was better that some things were left unsaid.
When Emma’s sister and brother-in-law and their five offspring arrived, well accoutred with the necessary nursery maids and luggage, Emma felt that her life was at a pinnacle. Their journey had been somewhat prolonged since the rain had been falling again and the carriage must make its laborious way through mud and potholes, for the Weald Clay on which Highbury stood made for a heavy and glutinous mud that clung tenaciously to the wheels. Isabella looked tired and the children were fretful as the nursery maids whisked them away; but Emma was just delighted that they had all arrived safely for this was one of the highlights of life for her.
She had all her family around her and she might have the ordering of their every comfort.
This for Isabella was to lie down with hartshorn to restore her after the journey, and for John to be encouraged to speak of his doings in London and Emma only had cause to frown at him when it became obvious that he meant to tease poor papa over his misapprehensions about Prudence.
This was in response to Henry Woodhouse singing the praises of Emma as a teacher and poor Prudence as an apt pupil.
John sighed and once Emma had diverted her father with a question about whether he felt able to have a dinner party and invite the Westons – which would occupy him in much debate – John Knightley said, in a low voice, to Prudence,
“You are very patient with Mr Woodhouse; thank you my dear Cousin Prudence for your forbearance! It must have been very trying at times!”
Prudence smiled.
“Indeed – I am to call you Cousin John? – indeed Cousin John it has been a trifle wearing at times. I was much angered at first, perceiving it as an insult to my own dear papa who has seen that I want for nothing; but I have come to realise that Uncle Henry means well although he may not be superior in understanding.”
“You are a kind girl and a credit to your father
,” said John. “Isabella was much upset at first by the way in which our dear papa wrote but George came to explain the whole and she looks forward to meeting you properly. She becomes very fatigued by a journey; but I wish you will take her out of herself. Your Uncle is inclined to foster a belief in her that she is more an invalid than is in fact the case, as you will see for yourself so I am not indiscreet.”
Prudence nodded.
“Why I shall hope that she may wish to see the watercolour sketches of flowers I have made in Yorkshire; many I thought common I have not yet seen here in the walks I have been on so far with Emma; though I have seen here flowers I have never seen before though Emma designates them common weeds. I am far from being a botanist, but papa has always encouraged me to draw and to design; so that I may feel I have some part of the mill in submitting designs to print onto the cloth.”
“Surely your father does not expect you to work at the mill?” John was shocked.
“Oh! No” said Prudence, “but if my designs are good, then it is a shame to waste my talents, is it not? Naturally when he submits them to the block cutters he does not tell them that they have been executed by a woman. My art is anonymous but it makes me feel very accomplished to see a design of mine on a bolt of cloth for sale.”
Isabella arose presently that Prudence might be properly presented to her; and kissed her fondly with a wish to inspect her watercolours that very evening.
“It is a strange yet fascinating thing that flowers in different parts of the country should be different!” she marvelled. “Is there much else that you find different to
Yorkshire here in Highbury?”
Prudence considered.
“The voices and speech of the servants are different; fortunately the way in which my Governess spoke and taught me to speak is very little different to the way people speak locally here. Also it is a much less hilly scenery; and there are more cattle and crops in the fields by what little I have seen rather than sheep as are most common in Yorkshire.”
Prudence decided not to bother to tell Isabella that wool was still spun and woven as well as cotton though it required subtle differences to the looms for optimising one fibre or the other. She did not think Isabella would be interested and would, moreover, not be comfortable with any references to the source of Prudence’s wealth.
Emma, despite her youthful snobbery, had been quite fascinated.
Isabella was still fatigued and Emma suggested that she and Prudence might borrow the oldest John Knightley children and take them for a walk. There was a watery sun struggling from behind the clouds that had blanketed the skies for so many days, when it had not been foggy, and though the ground was wet, Emma promised to keep to well founded paths and roads where pounded chalk had been added to the paths to combat the sticky mud somewhat.
Isabella readily gave permission; for their Aunt Emma was a prime favourite with the small Knightleys. The nursery maids duly relinquished young Henry, now almost eight, as he declared self-importantly – the almost was a matter of opinion – and little John, a couple of years his brother’s junior and happy to answer to being five.
Emma promised a bedtime story to Bella who was inclined to become stormy that she was not invited on a walk – the sort of walk that would satisfy her brothers being too fatiguing for a mite not yet four – and they set off across the fields towards the village.
“You must meet everyone eventually my dear Prudence, but I have enjoyed having my cousin all to myself!” declared Emma happily, “but if we should happen to meet anyone – Henry
not
up there – then I shall take delight in introducing you. There will be much speculation you know – I said NO Henry, and if you don’t come down we shall go straight home – because the village is a hotbed of gossip.”
Emma flushed slightly having been cured rather notably of gossip over the doings of Jane Fairfax, now Mrs Frank Churchill. Henry climbed down off the fence he had been climbing.
“Why mayn’t I climb it Auntie Emma?” he asked “It’s an easy climb!”
“Because the bull in the field on the other side is particularly ill tempered even for a bull
,” said Emma, “and he is moreover a prize bull and very highly strung and I should be in trouble with the farmer if I permitted poor Napoleon - that is the bull’s name because he is as contrary as Napoleon Bonaparte – to upset himself and maybe hurt his horns in goring you.”
This was an explanation that suited Master Henry Knightley as far more sensible than that he might hurt himself – in common with all small boys he considered himself invulnerable to anything
like a mere bull – and he went relatively docilely with his brother, both of them scampering off ahead of the ladies.
“How well you manage him!” admired Prudence.
Emma smiled.
“I find that if I recall how I felt about being told off at his age I can recall what words best work to make him behave
,” she said. “Though I was not quite such a harum-scarum as young Henry is I assure you!”
Prudence laughed.
“I believe that qualifying word ‘quite’ most nearly of that sentence,” she said. Then they had to run to catch up with the boys who were busy engaging in an altercation.
It turned out that John had nudged Henry and Henry had nudged his little brother back, a little harder than was reasonable for a bigger boy and John stumbled off the path into a puddle and wet his stocking up to the ankle, howled in outrage and retaliated shouting that if he caught his death of cold, Henry would be sorry.
“My goodness!” said Prudence catching up to them first “A big strong healthy boy of five isn’t going to catch cold for a little thing like a wet foot! Really John, don’t be a baby. Henry was in the wrong because he is the biggest and should take care and he is going to say sorry and then you are both going to shake hands like gentlemen. Aren’t you?”
Henry scrambled through an apology and the boys shook hands. Their tall cousin was to be respected as an unknown quantity; but apparently she could be quite as strict as Aunt Emma.
“Mama will worry about me catching cold
,” said John.
“And if you want to worry mama and be kept in when others play you will tell her about it
,” said Emma, “otherwise we shall just tell Ruth and she will find you clean dry stockings and put the muddy one to launder.”
John considered this.
The advantages of not being babied outweighed the cosseting telling her might entail. Besides as Henry had already been made to apologise, John could see retribution in his brother’s eyes if he sneaked and led to Henry being read a lecture!
Chapter 7