Cousin Prudence

by Waldock, Sarah

  “Emma my dear, what is a flummery?” asked Prudence. Emma looked surprised.

  “Why it is a set gruel, made by soaking oatmeal overnight and then boiling the strained liquor with sugar. The left-over oatmeal might then be used to thicken a stew of course.”

  “Oh, I know that as sowens!” said Prudence.

  “We have a sweetly pretty flummery dish to mould it in, it is from Staffordshire and has a raised bunch of grapes upon it with two leaves,” said Emma, “It was my grandmother’s. I generally colour the leaves with spinach and the grapes with black currant juice for I never permit cook to make papa’s flummery.”

  “Oh if you have dried or bottled blackcurrants my dear Mrs Knightley they are a sovereign remedy for coughs!” opined Clara.

  “Excellent; I may put some of the juice into the flummery too then as flavouring,” said Emma. “Why I did not think I should be ready to eat at all, but look, I have done justice to all you have put on my plate, George; how heartening it is to have such good ideas from our friends to help poor papa!”

  With Emma persuaded to eat, Arthur and Clara took their leave instead of staying for a while to check; and Arthur promised to go on directly to his Aunt Mouser.

  “Pray tell Lady Katherine that we wanted to send her the news as soon as might be rather than waiting to write as we must to others,” said Emma to Arthur. “Let me just write a thank you letter….”

  “I shall write on our behalf and George shall carry it with the other budgets,” said Prudence “Aunt Mouser does not stand on ceremony at need. Arthur shall tell her that a note will follow.”

  Arthur bowed; and gave Clara his arm as her escort.

  Packing was swiftly accomplished; most of the ball gowns were to be left in the house for later collection or, if Mr Woodhouse’s health improved before the end of the season, to return to. Morning gowns, a couple of gowns suitable for evening attire and the essentials were all that Emma directed the servants to pack. And then they were on the road, with every expectation of being at Hartfield long before dinner would be served.

  The journey west was accomplished more soberly than the trip into London; and Prudence firmly entertained Emma with tales of the doings of her unfortunate young suitor and his cavalry zeal. She spoke kindly of his proposal however for it was meant sincerely enough, even though she felt him far too green to know his own heart. It seemed best to take Emma out of herself, especially in her delicate condition, that she not fret all the way home! Soon Emma was able to laugh a little about the high jinks of the young cavalrymen and to chat.

  “And now we do not have to worry that spite can harm us, I can tell you about Lady Elvira,” said Emma, and proceeded to do so. Prudence paled slightly.

  “My dear Prudence,” George leaned forward to touch her lightly on the arm, “if you believe that your absence would mean that Alverston would forsake you for that shameless creature, then you think him very poor indeed!”

  Prudence smiled at him.

  “Oh I do not think so; at least not precisely. I suppose I fear that her sophistication might dazzle him… though I fancy it was not doing so when I saw them speaking at Almack’s. She is enough to make even Emma jealous.”

  “That female,” said George, “is not so much sophisticated as well beyond it and into the decadent. And you did not see the look of horror in Alverston’s eyes followed by relief as he handed off the creature into my unwilling arms.”

  “And Prudence is quite correct and I was most pleased to learn that they had been unwilling arms,” said Emma, “almost every man there was following her with his eyes; and there was a lot to follow.”

  Prudence giggled.

  “Well we may comfort ourselves that so overblown a figure is like to be quite grossly fat within a decade,” she said, “which is why she is on the hunt for another husband. And she shall not have Alverston,” she added firmly.

  It was typical that Mr Woodhouse’s greeting of his daughter held concern about her more than for himself.

  “Poor Emma! How fagged you must be to have been having to run about London after poor Prudence!” he declared, kissing Emma on the cheek as she embraced him.

  “Oh! Not at all, dearest papa,” said Emma, “we have had an excellent time and have made some good friends as well; but of course I am always pleased to be home with you, especially when you need me.”

  “There is nobody like my Emma when I am feeling blue devilled,” said Mr Woodhouse, “poor Isabella does her best but her own health is so indifferent and I fear it gives her morbid humours.”

  Emma saw no irony in that statement. She loved both father and sister unconditionally.

  “Poor Isabella may rest herself now; I am here to care for you, dear papa,” said Emma, “and you shall soon feel better! Why I have sent a maid to the grocer as soon as I arrived to purchase some hart’s horn to make you some good nourishing jelly and a jar of patent restorative pork jelly to use in the meantime, and I shall set some oatmeal to soak to make you a flummery; and on the advice of one of my new friends – Miss Bullivant is the daughter of a vicar in Buckinghamshire – I shall add the fluid from bottled blackcurrants to ease your cough. You will like it!” she assured.

  “It sounds most excellent, my dear Emma and may tempt me to eat a mouthful or two,” said Mr Woodhouse, “but I beg you, do not oversweeten the flummery; last time you put too much sugar in it and it was not as pleasant as otherwise!”

  “Oh! That is because of Alison,” said Emma, “do you not recall, we had engaged her to help cook, and she had not learned her place and did not realise that I always make your flummery myself? She added sugar and I added sugar and so it was twice as sweet as it should have been; more so indeed for she was taught to make flummery very sweet. Cook had to speak to her too about the amount of sugar and fruit she put in frumenty at Christmas. Poor Alison! How cook scolded her, and she only tried to do a good turn, doing what she thought was her job!”

  “Oh, that explains much!” said Mr Woodhouse “New servants are a great trial until one has them trained to one’s ways. It was Alison too who put too much starch in my collars; I am glad that you send the laundry out to Mrs Fellowes again; she knows our ways.”

  Emma personally considered Mrs Fellowes lax and feckless; and had the efficient and indefatigable Alison help Jennifer with her own gowns but she smiled and said nothing. It pleased papa.

  She could not imagine the impeccable and well starched Alverston liking Mrs Fellowes’ offhand way with collars and cravats; and she suppressed a gurgle of mirth and made a mental note to pass the joke on to Prudence.

  Prudence too deplored the work of the rather slatternly Mrs Fellowes though as she pointed out to Emma, Hester had discovered that the poor woman had to deal with a drunken sot of a husband who got her with child almost as soon as she had finished birthing the last; and doing the work for two and bringing up fourteen hopeful brats was not conducive to good manners or efficiency.

  Emma sighed.

  “There are herbs that a woman might use,” she said.

  “But you are educated dear Emma; perhaps she does not know,” said Prudence, “or perhaps they do not work for her. But I should not send my clothes to her either, much as I feel sorry for her; for her remedy for all soiled clothing is to boil it, and can you imagine the effect of that on delicate fabrics!”

  Emma shuddered.

  “And can you imagine Alverston’s reaction to limp collar points and floppy cravats!” she said.

  Prudence giggled.

  “Of course he has put up with worse,” she said, “he has been through the Peninsular war and declared their clothes to be veritable rags – and lice-ridden I shouldn’t wonder – so I can see why he is so determined to enjoy his sartorial splendour now,” and she sighed. “I wonder where he might be at the moment.”

  “Probably exchanging stories with your father,” said Emma.

  Prudence brightened.

  “Oh I do hope so,” she said, “I hope they may li
ke each other! Papa is a bit sniffy with those he considers gentry, on account of being a self-made man; he is expecting them to put him down you know! But Alverston is a plain man; everything of the best of course, but no excess of fobs or

  seals, his waistcoats of the most elegant but restrained, and his neckcloth never extravagant in style, the very soul of quiet elegance; so one may hope that papa warms to him before he learns of his elevated social rank. Oh Emma, I do not quite know how a Marquess fits into the scheme of the aristocracy!”

  “Well George told me that it is not an old English title; and that it lays above a viscount and he is not precisely sure if it is above or below an earl; but one given for one of three reasons as a cheaper alternative to the crown than giving any real land or title,” said Emma. “Firstly, that one had distinguished oneself in battle – like the Lord Paget whose leg was blown off that your subaltern told you about; who was made a Marquis after the battle, Marquis or Marquess being equally used, Marquis being held by many to be Frenchified.”

  “He is NOT my subaltern” said Prudence.

  “I fancy if you called ‘heel’ he would come and beg for a thrown stick however,” giggled Emma. “The second reason is for the giving of some great sum of money to the monarch when he is financially embarrassed; and the third reason, and I could scarcely credit this when George said it, would be for performing a service for the crown that was a trifle unsavoury.”

  “Cousin George is a cynic,” said Prudence, “not that I have in any way any objection to that; but he is a cynic nevertheless.”

  Chapter 25

  With his younger daughter at home, Mr Woodhouse rallied somewhat; though Emma made sure to consult Mr Perry, his physician.

  “Mr Woodhouse is in no immediate danger, Mrs Knightley,” said Mr Perry, “though if I were you I should stop sending your laundry to the Fellowes woman; her oldest daughter is displaying every sign of typhus and there is every indication that the outbreak might become severe. I am told that she has a high fever, cough, pains in the joints and limbs and cries in the light and complains of headache; and has a rash. It is a classic case; and I would not wish your father to take it, as he has already a very nasty cough. And no, I do not believe for one minute that his cough is anything but an old man’s reaction to this nasty fog,” he added hastily, “but his health has a degree of frailty; his heart is not so strong as it was and I wish you to take every precaution. Mr Knightley should wash thoroughly if he has been speaking with any of his tenants. And you, Mrs Knightley,” he said glancing at her, “are perhaps also in a situation where you should be careful also.”

  Emma blushed.

  “Indeed I am in an interesting condition,” she murmured, “but I have had no significant problems.”

  “Nonetheless I should like to see you sitting with your feet up for at least an hour every afternoon!” said Mr Perry “You cannot be too careful!”

  Prudence stopped Mr Perry on his way out.

  “I heard something of what you have said to dear Emma,” she said, “and I will cover the costs of treating the Fellowes girl. If it were not for Emma’s condition and Uncle Henry’s ill health I should go to her myself but I cannot afford to bring the disease to this house.”

  “Indeed no, Miss Blenkinsop; that would be foolish,” said Mr Perry.

  “Is this caused by the cold, Mr Perry?” asked Prudence “I have heard that disease is accompanying the famine and cold; and did not Napoleon lose much of his army to the same sickness in Russia?”

  “To the cold? Not directly, Miss Blenkinsop,” said Mr Perry, “I have noted that Typhus occurs in the unwashed of the population; therefore it may be partially due to an unwillingness to wash thoroughly because of the difficulty of getting warm again subsequently when the weather is cold. Nobody knows by what agency the disease passes; but that it also goes under the name of gaol fever it may be surmised that living in cramped conditions with little facility for hygiene causes the disease to pass by proximity and to remain if there is not thorough washing. I should not think that it would pass on the well boiled clothing that Mrs Fellowes passes off as laundry; but if the washing is carried subsequently by a diseased member of her family,” he shrugged, “it is not worth the risk. I am not surprised to find the Fellowes family struck first if there is to be any outbreak; they are by far and away the dirtiest and most cramped family in the entire village; sixteen souls in a one-roomed hovel, and the wash-house a lean-to . Very well, Miss Blenkinsop, I shall take your commission – will you have me care for any there who fall sick? Excellent, I shall chart all my findings and perhaps it may lead to a greater understanding of the nature of the disease. Though if any of my regular clients become sick, or object to my ministrations however well I wash myself I shall of course put their wishes first.”

  “That is understood, Mr Perry,” said Prudence, “a doctor must always care for his patients.”

  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 child. 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 there 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.