The Colonel's Spinster: A Regency Romance (Tragic Characters in Classic Literature)

by Audrey Harrison

“I would not put her at any risk.”

  “I know. Believe me when I say it would be best waiting until she is a little better.”

  “And if she doesn’t recover?”

  “If I see a deterioration then I will send for you to say your goodbyes,” Prudence promised. Mr. Huxley choked at her words but managed to turn it into a cough. Prudence stood and walked to him, resting her arm on his shoulder. “We are going to do our very best to bring her back to us.”

  “Thank you.”

  Prudence left the room, understanding that Mr. Huxley needed time to gather himself. When she saw Anne, she wanted to wail with despair, but such reactions would do Anne no good at all.

  Walking into the study, she immediately took a piece of parchment out of the drawer, and dipping the quill in the ink stand, started to write.

  Dear Mr. Darcy,

  I am sending this express to you as the nearest relative and the one to whom Lady Catherine very often turns when she seeks advice.

  Recent events have resulted in Anne following Mr. Huxley to our abode. It is a long story, and now is not the time to divulge the details, but your imagination will probably reach the correct conclusion to the situation. Needless to say, it was a journey undertaken after an altercation with Lady Catherine. It appears our aunt had some sort of seizure ― to what extent and how well she is at present, I am afraid I have no knowledge.

  Anne travelled across country alone except for one member of staff, and although her coachman tried to protect her and do the best for her in the circumstances, she has arrived in Stretford dangerously ill.

  You can be assured that she is receiving every level of care, but I must be honest and inform you that the doctor is not confident of a recovery at this stage. It grieves me to write this, for she is very dear to me even after such a short acquaintance.

  I need to inform Lady Catherine of the matter, but as I am not aware of her state of health I thought it wisest to contact you in the first instance. If yourself or Aunt Catherine wishes to visit Anne, you will be made welcome.

  Your cousin,

  Prudence Bamber.

  There it was. She had done the right thing by Anne. Even if Aunt Catherine arrived on her doorstep, she would welcome her. She would do anything that might help Anne.

  Standing and ringing the bell, she handed the express to the footman and returned to her cousin’s bedchamber.

  *

  The following seven days had to be the longest of Prudence’s life. The whole household seemed to feel the tension, which seeped into every room.

  Each person hovered whenever the doctor visited, which was often, hoping to hear a snippet of good news for the young woman they did not know, but who was fighting for her life under their roof. Their shoulders would sag when the housekeeper would show the doctor out and gently shake her head in the negative at the onlookers.

  Prudence joined her father each night to eat supper with him. Mr. Huxley was company for her father, but she needed the small semblance of normality eating a meal at the dining table brought.

  Each evening, she was greeted with the same words from Mr. Huxley. “Any improvement?”

  And each time she had to give the same response. “No. I am sorry.”

  It was the eighth evening, and when Prudence entered the drawing room, Mr. Bamber shook his head at his daughter.

  “You are losing weight, Prudence, and you are as pale as I have ever seen you. I insist you have a break from the sick room, or you will be joining your cousin.”

  “I’m fine, Papa. Truly.”

  “No, you are not. I won’t stand by whilst you waste away. That will do neither yourself nor Anne any good.”

  They were interrupted by the entrance of the butler. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but there is a gentleman at the door requesting to see Miss Prudence. He says he’s a cousin.”

  Prudence’s eyes flew to Mr. Huxley. “It must be Mr. Darcy.” Turning to the butler, she said, “I’ll see him in the study. I expect he will not have eaten. Please set another place for him at the dining table.”

  “I should come with you,” Mr. Huxley said. “She followed me. I have some responsibility in this.”

  “No. Anne chose to follow you, and she is well over the age of consent. It was her own doing. Remain here. I am not hanging you out for anyone to blame you in all of this.”

  “If there are any problems, send me word, and cousin or no, I will send him packing,” Mr. Bamber instructed.

  “I doubt there will be any need for that.” Prudence smiled at her father as she left the room. She hoped there would not be. She had not exactly departed on good terms with Darcy. Oh well, it appeared being a member of her mother’s family was going to be constantly trying.

  Walking into the study, shoulders set, expecting to see her cousin Darcy, she faltered on the threshold. “Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she said in a surprised greeting.

  “Cousin.”

  “I did not expect to see you, but I presume you are here in Mr. Darcy’s stead?” Prudence had forced herself to continue into the room when she actually wanted to retreat somewhere far away. She had thought of Fitzwilliam so many times. She had ached to see him again, but now he was here, she had no idea how to act. He looked formal, wary even, and she imagined she did not look too different.

  “Yes. He sent me an urgent message to check on Aunt Catherine.”

  “How is she?”

  “Being as demanding as always, but from her sick room. I feel she is remaining within her chamber to demand pity from those around her rather than out of necessity. She probably went into shock at Anne’s outburst, but underneath the tomfoolery she has embarked upon, she has a strong constitution,” Fitzwilliam responded.

  His eyes never left Prudence’s, and the intensity of his stare was a little unnerving. “You have relayed your information to Mr. Darcy?”

  “Yes. It was always my intention to travel here once I’d been to see how things were at Rosings. Mrs. Darcy is very close to her confinement now, and I did not wish Darcy to be away from home.”

  “That is very considerate of you. I knew of his situation, but I thought it best to send him the express.”

  “You could have contacted me,” Fitzwilliam said quietly.

  “No. I could not. It was hard enough contacting Darcy.”

  Fitzwilliam seemed to sag a little but continued to speak. “I knew when I arrived here there would be issues to sort out. Anne’s health will dictate what happens next.” He could feel the tension in the room just as much as Prudence could. He wanted to ask her how she had been: if it was through caring for Anne that she looked fagged, or if she was ailing herself. The thought that she might be ill had set his heart racing in panic. More than anything he wished to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness. Instead he stood ramrod straight and spoke in clipped terms.

  “Anne is gravely ill,” Prudence admitted.

  Fitzwilliam paled. “Is it a hopeless case? Darcy said you had suggested it was.”

  “We honestly don’t know, but there has been little change since she arrived here.”

  “May I see her?”

  Prudence had refused Mr. Huxley admittance to Anne’s room, but it was different for Fitzwilliam. He was almost like a brother to Anne, and she could not keep him away.

  “Prepare yourself, Fitzwilliam. She has changed since you last saw her,” Prudence said before turning on her heel and leading the way out of the room.

  They walked in silence up the stairs and into the room in which Anne was lying motionless in the centre of the large four-poster bed. The housekeeper was tending to her, having taken over from Prudence for the night.

  Fitzwilliam faltered when he saw his cousin. “She’s always been small and fragile looking, but she looks…”

  “I know,” Prudence said gently. She had some sympathy for how he must be feeling. “Come. Speak to her.”

  “Speak to her?” Fitzwilliam asked in surprise.

  “Yes. We do not know if s
he can hear anything, so we greet her and tell her about everything that is happening. Just in case she can.”

  Looking uncomfortable, Fitzwilliam approached the bed. “Hello, Anne,” he said quietly. “It’s Richard. I have come to see what all this fuss is about. You have been causing a bit of excitement, but everyone is absolutely fine at Rosings. There is nothing for you to worry about.”

  Prudence smiled at him for the gentle way he mentioned that Lady Catherine was well. She approved of his wording. “I am sure Anne will take comfort from hearing that, won’t you Anne?”

  As always there was no response, but Prudence had not expected one. Fitzwilliam looked at her for direction, and she indicated that they should leave the chamber.

  “Good night, Anne,” Fitzwilliam said. “I shall return on the morrow. I hope you are more in the mood for a chat then. I would so like to hear your voice again, Anne.”

  Leading the way once more, Prudence went down the stairs. “I shall arrange for a room to be prepared for you.”

  “Are you sure?” Fitzwilliam asked in surprise. “I expected to be staying at a local inn.”

  “Why would I not offer you hospitality?”

  “Oh, something to do with the way we treated you during your visit with Aunt Catherine,” came the dry response.

  “As I said to Mr. Darcy, I would welcome Aunt Catherine if she came to visit Anne. Now is not the time for recriminations and going over what has happened. What’s done is done,” Prudence said. “My father and Mr. Huxley are in the drawing room.”

  “Mr. Huxley?”

  “Yes. He’s working for my father at the moment in order to obtain a reference as Aunt Catherine almost made him destitute.”

  “He behaved inappropriately towards Anne.”

  “Anne clearly did not think so.”

  Fitzwilliam reached out and touched Prudence’s arm to stop her progress towards the drawing room. “Cousin ― Prudence ― you must see it was inappropriate of him? They are of a different social class.”

  “And yet it did not stop you when you thought you were kissing the daughter of a cotton worker, did it?” Prudence snapped. “I suggest your whole family look at your own conduct before starting to criticise someone else’s.”

  Chapter 16

  Prudence entered the drawing room and immediately Mr. Bamber and Mr. Huxley stood up. Mr. Huxley looked wary and unsure, but Prudence sent him a quick smile of reassurance.

  “Papa, please allow me to introduce my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.” She was surprised at the assessing look her father shot in Fitzwilliam’s direction, but she did not have the energy to ponder over it. “I’ve asked for another place to be set at the table, Cousin. I suggest we immediately remove ourselves to the dining room. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s arrival has delayed supper a little, and you know how cook repines when her sauces are in danger of spoiling.”

  The gentlemen complied with Prudence’s chivvying and entered the dining room. The butler looked relieved at their entrance; it seemed Prudence had been correct about the cook’s angst.

  Sitting down, Prudence resigned herself to an uncomfortable meal. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Huxley had barely exchanged a word, one looking daggers at the other, the other looking wary and unsure.

  “You can speak to the doctor tomorrow, and he will tell you everything that has been done to ensure your cousin’s comfort,” Mr. Bamber said.

  “I have already seen that she is being cared for extremely well,” Colonel Fitzwilliam answered.

  “Aye. Poor little mite. She’s not been a robust girl, has she?”

  “No. And I think my aunt did not encourage her to undertake anything that would have helped her constitution. It suited Aunt Catherine to keep Anne near her,” Colonel Fitzwilliam admitted.

  “A sad thing for the child,” Mr. Bamber said with a shake of his head. “We all need to experience life as much as possible, especially when we are young.”

  “Quite so.”

  “I hear you have had an adventurous life yourself, sir.”

  “A little too adventurous at times,” Colonel Fitzwilliam answered.

  “Aye, I can only imagine. And what have you been doing since your return? Is life at home keeping you occupied?”

  “There have been a few instances of unrest in your industry. We’ve been brought in to help keep the peace,” Fitzwilliam answered.

  “The workforce do not like the changes we mill owners bring in, but if we do not stay ahead of our business, someone else will beat us to it, and then we will all suffer,” Mr. Bamber said.

  “People are very often frightened of change or of things they do not understand,” Prudence said. “They can make presumptions that are not always right.”

  Fitzwilliam looked down, supposing the comment was aimed at himself.

  Prudence felt ashamed at the reaction her words caused. She cursed herself inwardly, she was better than making sly remarks. “How is Mrs. Darcy?”

  “She is fine. I stopped at Pemberley on my way north,” Fitzwilliam responded. “I think there shall be another Darcy very soon.”

  “I had hoped to meet her one day, but I don’t think that will happen after the way things ended between myself and Mr. Darcy.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Fitzwilliam smiled. “Elizabeth is determined to see you as soon as she is able after her confinement. She is a very strong-minded woman. By far one of the best of my relatives.”

  “You might like to visit my mills in the coming days after you’ve sat with your cousin. A sick room is not the place for an active man like you,” Mr. Bamber offered.

  “That’s very kind of you, sir. I would like that a great deal. I must admit I have never been this far north before and have never set foot in a mill.”

  “You will soon see we don’t bite.”

  “You shall have to protect him from the mill girls, Papa. They will be on a par with the French army for their ability to cause fear in a young, single man.”

  “He will revel in it.” Mr. Bamber laughed at the expression on Fitzwilliam’s face.

  *

  Prudence was already seated with Anne when Fitzwilliam entered the sick room after he had breakfasted.

  She looked up in surprise. “I did not expect to see you so soon.”

  “Your father was quite clear that he considered remaining in bed a wasteful time of the working day, so even though I am to remain here and not travel with himself into the mills, I was expected at breakfast,” Fitzwilliam responded. He sat down with a sheepish look. “I admit, I haven’t risen this early in many months.”

  “Well, I am sure Anne will be glad to know you are nearby.”

  Fitzwilliam reached over and took Anne’s hand in his own. “Dear Anne, I wish you would come back to us. Life will not be the same without you in it. I, for one, would miss you so very much.”

  Prudence had to blink away the moisture the heartfelt words brought to her eyes. “I remain hopeful,” she said quietly.

  “It has been so long.”

  “Yes. But she isn’t as robust as we are, so it will take her longer to fight off the fever. That is my hope anyway.”

  “I pray you are right. I promise to always supply you with whatever fancies you decide upon if you beat this fever, Anne.”

  “I hope for your sake that she cannot hear you, or you could be sorry you uttered those words.”

  Fitzwilliam smiled at Prudence, which made her insides flutter, much to her annoyance. “I would do my damndest to achieve my promise.”

  “I should think so.”

  “It is time I left you alone. I don’t wish to tire Anne,” Fitzwilliam said, standing up. “I shall visit again later.” Walking to the door, he turned before opening it. “Miss Bamber?”

  “Yes?”

  “Our family are in your debt. All of us, and we thank you most sincerely.”

  “I am doing this for Anne.”

  “I understand and can expect no more, but I realise it must be costing you to be ci
vil to the likes of Darcy and myself. I would probably struggle if our roles were reversed.”

  “Thankfully, they are not.”

  “Yes. Quite.”

  The door closed behind him, and Prudence turned her attention back to her cousin. “Oh, Anne, I wish I could speak to you now. I would tell you that, although I am every type of numbskull, I still feel as strongly for him as I ever did. Please wake up and tell me I am a buffoon, for there is no one else I have been honest with.”

  *

  After spending another three days near to Anne, Fitzwilliam decided that, after an early morning visit to Anne, he would venture out to the mill. He had felt confined over the last few days. Prudence remained with Anne during the day, and things were still distant between them, and although he had explored the area on foot and on horseback, he had not travelled far, feeling guilty at being too far away from Anne.

  Finally accepting that things were not going to change in the short term, he came to the conclusion that a trip to the mill would probably do him good. He travelled in the carriage with Mr. Huxley and Mr. Bamber. The tension had eased a little between himself and Mr. Huxley. Giving the steward credit for giving loyal service to his aunt and understanding the way his aunt reacted, plus his own unrequited feelings, led him to be more understanding after his initial anger had abated.

  Fitzwilliam had never seen anything like it when they traversed the streets of Manchester. Yes, he lived in London, but for the most part, he remained in the areas frequented by the ton. This was different than what he had seen in the city. The streets leading into the centre became more built up and crowded the closer they got.

  Terraced houses led off from the main road, and looking down the streets, he saw houses that seemed crowded somehow; they almost looked as if they were clambering to get on top of each other. Mills filled the skyline, their bulking angular masses seeming to block out the light. Smoke pumped from what seemed like thousands of chimneys, making Fitzwilliam wonder if there was any sunlight, and if there was, if it would ever reach the ground.

  After watching as the carriage moved through the busy thoroughfare, he eventually sat back in wonderment and awe.