“Your father is an excellent employer,” said George, “and I am glad that he has always encouraged you to take an interest; as I was encouraged to take an interest in the land that I inherited. Modernisation and experimentation are the way forward in the exciting age in which we live.
In the same way I have been instituting underdraining as well as ploughing marl into our heavy soil, and making sure to grow clover to refresh the land and provide a sweet nourishment for the cattle.”
“Dear me!” said Prudence, “I did not realise there was so much technical knowledge required to farm! There is always so much to learn, is there not?”
“Oh yes!” said Emma, squeezing her husband’s arm “And George is so knowledgeable and such a good teacher!”
“Oh I learn all the time myself,” said George, “ah, and here we are; you have our vouchers, Emma?”
Emma removed the vouchers which she had taken charge of from her muff; and soon they were within the fabled halls of Almack’s!
Prudence felt quite dazzled by the lights and colour of Almack’s, the number of people and the dazzling array of fine gowns and glittering jewels.
She was dressed in the white Indian muslin gown with its train – which would need to be pinned up to dance, which seemed a ludicrous fashion to go to a ball in yet nevertheless expected – that was embroidered in white and gold by herself and Hester to her own designs. A quick glace at other embroidered Indian muslins showed many that were more gaudy; but few, Prudence thought with a degree of smugness, so tasteful and so well wrought to follow the line of the gown. She wore pearls – they had belonged to her mother – as a jewel suitable for a young girl; and the choker necklace, reset to modern taste at her father’s suggestion, emphasised the slender column of Prudence’s elegant neck.
Emma was in no wise outshone by any of the other women there, save by the glittering few. Her gown was perhaps simpler in cut than some but held the classic elegance that suited Emma so well; and the dark rich silk was a contrast to so many in pale muslins. There was little chance that Emma, who was shining with happiness to be
at Almack’s with her George, would be taken for one of the dowagers; but her status as a married woman made her an eligible chaperone for Prudence, however absurd that appeared in the light of Emma’s obvious youth!
The newcomers were greeted by Lady Jersey, who had offered them patronage.
“Mr and Mrs Knightley; Miss Blenkinsop. I am so glad you could come,” said Lady Jersey. Prudence wondered how glad she really was. The Patroness added “I see Gervase twisted my arm to include a lady tall enough not to make him look such a quiz when dancing as he does with the shorter ladies… I NEVER stand up with him myself; the long and the short of it would have nothing on it!” and she gave a trilling laugh.
“Lord Alverston is indeed built on generous lines,” said Prudence gravely, “he will therefore probably marry a lady of less than five feet tall and obey her implicitly in all things.”
Sally Jersey gave her trilling laugh again.
“La, my dear, you are a wit too; Gervase was quite correct to ask for vouchers for you!” she said “I hope you may enjoy yourself!”
And it was obvious that Prudence was dismissed to take her place with the other ladies hopeful to be asked to dance.
It was the rule at Almack’s that a woman had to accept the invitation of the first man to ask her to dance; or else she had signalled that she intended to sit out the evening.
Emma had no intention of sitting out for the evening and so accepted Mr Alver’s invitation. She had wondered whether his encounter with the shy and green Miss Bullivant the vicar’s daughter from Buckinghamshire – which description sounded like some version of the game of consequences – had robbed him of his infatuation for her; and was sorry if it had not. Intercourse on the dance floor however soon informed Emma that Mr Alver’s fickle
affections might well be in the process of transferring to Miss Bullivant since he did not gaze on Emma with such
blatant adoration and seemed a little embarrassed. It spoke well of his gentlemanly instincts, since he had promised to stand up with his dear Mrs Knightley at Almack’s that he carried through that promise even though his heart was undergoing a metamorphosis. Emma was as kind to him as always and he thanked her kindly for the dance.
George did his duty by Prudence meanwhile for the first dance; and noted that Alverston was there already though the hour was not advanced. It would hardly be proper however for Alverston to single out Prudence for her first dance ever at Almack’s.
Alverston came up to Prudence for the second country measure and bowed.
“Will you partner me for this dance?” he asked.
Prudence curtseyed.
“Why My Lord I believe I should be delighted!” she said “Do you then pack your manners to bring to Almack’s?”
He laughed.
“I should hardly dare do otherwise for fear of being blackballed,” he said. “If I ask permission of the patronesses, will you stand up with me in the waltz?”
Prudence flushed.
“I do know the steps,” she said, “but I have never danced it with a man and rarely with a more animate partner than a pelisse stuffed with cushions. I should warn you in case I am not any good at the steps. Cousin George was going to permit me to practice with him, but I had not expected to be permitted it until much later in the season.”
“Why I am certain that you have learned the steps well enough; though I trust I shall be a more accomplished dancer than your pelisse!” said Alverston. “I shall relish the opportunity to give you the practice myself; and if you find yourself in difficulties I am not above counting the measure for you as I have done for my sisters before now!”
“Then if permission is granted I shall accept with the greatest of pleasure,” said Prudence, “for it looks a most exhilarating and energetic dance from what I have seen!”
“What, more exhilarating than driving at speed?” teased Alverston.
“Oh that is a question I cannot be expected to answer,” said Prudence, “since I have never learned to drive, nor, may I say, have I had any inclination to learn; and I believe I am not about to start wishing to learn now.”
“Do you know, Miss Blenkinsop, almost any other young lady of my acquaintance would answer that question with a coy look and a comment that as they have never driven behind my bays with me at the ribbons they could not truly answer. You are one of the first girls I have met who has not angled for me to take them driving.”
“Lord Alverston, I should think it quite pushing to ask in so hinting and oblique a fashion; if I were in a position to ask favours of you I should ask outright,” said Prudence, “and as you have already done me so many favours that my honour at least is mortgaged to you for a goodly length of time I would not be likely to ask.”
“Would you like to go driving with me?” he asked.
“I do not know,” said Prudence, “but in the light of my views on new experiences I am certain I should like to find out if I should enjoy it. Are you then asking me sir?”
“I am. Good; it is settled. I shall pick you up tomorrow around ten and we shall drive into the country to eat and return before it gets too cold. Bring your maid; and be ready. I don’t like my horses being kept waiting.”
“You are a very managing man,” said Prudence, “but I confess that the idea is too exciting for me to pull caps with you for it!”
When the waltz music started and Alverston came to claim her, Prudence looked over to Lady Jersey; who inclined her head graciously. Prudence swept her a curtsey and accepted Alverston’s hand.
“Nicely done, Miss Blenkinsop: ‘Silence’ will think the better of you for so spontaneous a gesture of respect,” said Alverston as he swept her into the whirling dance.
“’Silence’?” enquired Prudence, hoping to concentrate on anything but the fact that his hand lay hot on her back, seeming to burn through the thin muslin.
“Lady Jers
ey likes to talk,” said Alverston, “the nickname was bestowed because there are more people than I who like irony.”
“Well that is a relief,” said Prudence, “I have danced so far with four young men and if any could spell irony let alone employ it I fear I shall be very much surprised.”
Alverston laughed.
“I suppose that is one of Arthur’s saving graces – he has wit,” he said, “and perhaps I might place myself a favour down to you by asking you to do one for me?”
“If it is within my power My Lord and not likely to land me in prison or worse,” said Prudence with a straight face.
“Ah, good northern hard headedness… it is merely to look over this Miss Bullivant and take her a little under your wing; I gather anyone of high estate is like to frighten her, for she’s a pea-hen and chicken hearted too, worse than poor Kitty; but Arthur is feeling his oats as though he were surnamed Pendragon in protective fervour and I’d hate him to be involved in any scandal she inadvertently falls into…. She hasn’t the wit to get out of trouble that I fancy you might have even had you not a rescuer on hand.”
“I was very glad to have a rescuer on hand however; I had been about to run into Hatchards.”
He nodded.
“As good a haven as any. One of the assistants would have escorted you out; and you would have heard no doubt more than the one insult. But you would have been safe. I was however concerned for you.”
“Which I appreciate…. It is a very close dance, is it not?” she looked up, blushing. He laughed.
“That is why it is considered a trifle fast…. There are some who do not like it even now, and you will be left off the invitation list of some of the stricter sticklers for being prepared to dance it.”
“Then they are not the sort of people whose invitations I should care to accept,” said Prudence, “and Lady Katharine is not one of them or you would not have asked me to dance it.”
“Quite right you shrewd little northerner,” he said, “you should not look at a man like that; it puts him in mind of kissing and that would spoil the rhythm of the dance.”
“Lord Alverston!” said Prudence, “you have made me lose step with so foolish a comment and put me to blush!”
“Well I enjoyed the effect,” said Alverston grinning at her.
“You are, sir, a bad man,” said Prudence severely.
“But I have my less endearing points,” said Alverston, “come, Miss Blenkinsop; this does not mean you will cry off our trip tomorrow does it?”
“Not in the least,” said Prudence, “but though I may be constrained in what I might say on the ballroom floor in Almack’s I shall not feel so constrained when we are in more privy company in a phaeton should you prove to be in as unseemly a bantering mood.”
He laughed; and as the music ended handed her back to Emma and George.
Chapter 17
Prudence felt in something of a whirl; and it was not the circular motion of the dance that made her feel giddy. Though she sat out the next dance to take a drink of lemonade she could still feel where Alverston’s hand had lain so familiarly on her back! And his impudent teasing… did he think to set her up as a flirt, think that because of her birth she would readily be his mistress? Or was it merely that they had fallen so readily into an easy bantering camaraderie that he treated her like…. Well, a relative? She must find out… though she was not sure how.
It did not help that a stray and rebellious thought whispered that if he wanted her as his mistress it might be fun just for his company…. And the feelings that his hand on her back had awoken in her….
“Alverston,” said George, having drawn the Marquess to one side, “I really ought to be asking your intentions towards Prudence considering the amount she was blushing; which doesn’t notice to the majority here as you have that effect on most of the young widgeons. But I know and you know that Prudence is no widgeon.”
“Knightley my dear fellow, I think she’s an original,” said Alverston, “and you can see further than the end of your nose. But I plan nothing in a hurry; I am a cautious man – save when driving too fast on a wild goose chase in the chivalric idiocy that runs in the family – and I will not even admit to myself if I have any intentions at all. I’m a fashionable fellow; being seen in my company will establish her well enough whatever the outcome. And that is as far as I am prepared to go.”
George nodded.
“Well if you have not made up your own mind I suppose you cannot say fairer than that,” he said, “though it seemed to me that you were distinctly partial to her.”
Alverston gave a rare, and remarkably sweet smile that contained a hint of self deprecation.
“I did not say I had not made up my mind,” he said, “I did that when she harangued me on the York road. I just have not decided whether I think my mind is actually entirely in accord with what is the correct course of action.”
“You know, Alverston,” said George, “I discovered that sometimes the right course of action is the one that follows your heart.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said Alverston, “it is not that her father is a mill owner; though it will weigh with some of my relatives. It is that our backgrounds are very different and that could lead to recriminations on either or both sides later on.”
George shrugged.
“Put money into her father’s mill and take an interest in it; and teach her about your lands and about agriculture,” he said.
Alverston laughed.
“You know, Knightley, I believe you are a wise man,” he said, “but I still prefer to take things slowly; I should hate to make a mistake – and make HER miserable as much as me.”
The late comers were just in time before the doors were locked; and Prudence looked in pleasure at the attractive young woman who had come in on the arm of a man enough like her to be her brother. She was prettily rounded of figure, not so well flattered by the high waisted gowns that were in fashion but with the sort of figure that is always in fashion for its soft feminine curves. Her gown was very sheer and very low cut across her ample bosom. Her golden hair was arranged in an artless-seeming cascade of curls that had probably, thought Prudence, taken her maid hours to achieve.
She greeted one of the other Patronesses familiarly, then gave a cry of delight.
“Alverston! Here so early?” she made her way across to the Marquess. “Gervase, darling, is it true what Georgie says that you’ve broken off the engagement with Kitty?” she cooed, ignoring George who was still standing beside him.
“Kitty and I, by mutual consent, decided to end the farce her father and mine cooked up between them,” said Alverston. “Good to see you out of mourning, Elvira.”
“Well it’s a long time since Puggy died,” said the lady making a face.
“Knightley,” said Alverston, “permit me to introduce you to a school friend of my sister’s; Lady Elvira, daughter of Viscount Wimburn and widow of Sir Oswald Pender, Bart, familiarly known as Puggy which appellation is lost in the mists of time from our days in Eton. Puggy fell at Badahos. Elvira, this is Mr Knightley; he’s a friend of mine.”
“Poor Puggy; I do miss him,” said Elvira, “but there’s so much more freedom a widow can have than a young thing; and I intend to enjoy it until I decide to remarry,” she cast a look of proprietary interest at Alverston.
“I’d be careful if I were you Elvira,” said Alverston, “and not advertise your intent to remarry; some people here have heard of you.”
She pulled a moue.
“You are in one of those nasty moods of yours Gervase,” she said.
“You mean there are times when I am not?” said Alverston.
She stamped a foot.
“I don’t like it when you speak like that!” she said.
“Then don’t listen,” said Alverston, “you have always known what I am like, Elvira; you have been out of the social scene for a while but I have not changed.”
“No; you’re still the most handsome
man in town,” she purred, laying a hand on his arm. “Listen, they are playing a waltz; I want to dance!”
“Ah, excellent,” said Alverston, heartily, “Knightley will oblige you; married man, quite respectable!”
George found himself waltzing with the lovely Lady Elvira who was not best pleased. George however was an excellent dancer, if not so accomplished as Alverston; so Lady Elvira contented herself with asking how long he had known Alverston and in what circumstances they had met.
George, who had no intention of telling this rather importunate handful of female more than he had to, smiled and murmured something about having been able to perform a small service for his lordship’s nephew and that his wife was a friend of Miss Fairlees also.
In point of fact, Emma was more sorry for Kitty Fairlees than friendly towards her; because the girl put her strongly in mind of Harriet Smith.
Emma was not best pleased that a woman with every movement calculated to inflame should be dancing with her beloved George; but she had every trust in George. And when he courteously restored Lady Elvira to her brother – for so indeed her escort turned out to be – Emma demanded to know everything.
“But my dear Mrs Knightley, I am far from knowing everything myself,” said George, “for I have never studied philosophy, nor higher mathematics….”
Emma checked quickly around and discreetly poked him in the ribs with one finger.
“You know what I mean, George,” she hissed in a whisper.
He laughed and smiled down at her in that way that was their private look almost a kiss in its intensity. Prudence had moved away politely.
Cousin Prudence Page 9
