The Prudential Light, page 18
part #1 of Cry Havoc Series
Jemima yawned. “Yes, I will do that.”
I left the room, nonplussed. Jemima was still keen to find those who murdered her father. Motherhood had not lessened her ability to tread where others feared to go. While it was quite shocking that Cousin Wilbur had been murdered, I did not think hunting down those responsible was a ladylike activity for a married woman and mother, even one like Jemima.
I found that I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. Perhaps because of my interaction with Louis, my dreams turned to the birth of my son and the joy I had in him before he was taken from me so cruelly.
It was early when I awoke. The sun had not yet risen, but the birds were twittering in anticipation of a new day. I sat up but I felt as if I had not slept, so full of the past had my night been. A strange feeling came over me. It was as if I was not alone any longer. A coppery, metallic smell reached my nostrils; was that blood? Turning quickly, I saw a shadow move, and a moan filled the space. “Who is there?” I hissed.
With my heart hammering, I stood up and went to look, throwing open the curtains to bring in some early light, but there was no one there. Yet, there had been, I was sure. I feared there was danger looming, only I did not know what. What could I say to the others, in any case? I checked the room again and my heart rate settled. There was no one there yet I could not shake the sense of foreboding. As it was still early, I took my time with my toilette, dressing carefully and then went downstairs. Lily was there and I was keen to see her once more, even it if was just to gaze at her and admire her beauty.
Chapter 14
Downstairs with a rug over my lap, with only the crackle and pop of the fire to disturb the whispers of the house as it slumbered. It reminded me of how houses breathe and wheeze and nothing is ever truly quiet. At night, throw up the window and hear the animals, the fox cries, the frogs croaking in the pond, the rustle of the leaves and the trickle of a stream.
I was the first one up, besides the servants. I was eager to see Lily again but had to be patient for she was not yet up.
My conversation with Jemima had me thinking about how those past happenings had shaped me and my views on the world. I was often hard on the younger people around me; I seemed to swing between outrage at all they got away with and envy, laced with respect.
The quiet snick of the door closing alerted me to company. It was Jemima, dressed in her flamboyant pink robe, her hair half in rags as if she were planning to go to a ball. “Jemima? I thought you would be sleeping in.”
She sat down with a flomp, yawned loudly, and met my gaze. “I have just finished feeding Louis and he is tucked up asleep with Edward, and I thought to see if you were up.”
“Have you been reading my memoir again?”
Jemima stretched languidly. “Yes, of course I have. But it was your letter from Sir Giles that you had tucked in there that has me curious.”
“Really! You are impossible.” I snorted in mock outrage.
“He proposed to you did he not?”
My cheeks grew hot and I shook my head. “You are the most impertinent…” I sighed. “Yes.”
“And you told him you were already married?”
“Yes, he took it well.”
“He wrote you lines of a sonnet so I think he did. But why on earth did you not tell any of us you were married? Why pass yourself off as a spinster?”
“It is complicated.”
Jemima shook her head. “No. It is not.”
I frowned as I tried to reconstruct my thinking at the time. “I was angry. I was ashamed. I had been deserted, my son stolen. I wanted no man to have control over me again. By taking the name Wainwright, I thought there was no way a man could hurt me so deeply again. When my sisters died, the truth of my marriage died with them. My parents died before I returned to England. You see. I kept the name, I called myself a spinster and left my fake widow status in the past.”
Jemima shook herself. “You think you know someone and then all these secrets come out. I pity Sir Giles. I suspected he admired you.”
“You did? Did you not think I was too old and decrepit for such amours?”
“Absolutely. I thought Sir Giles was too, but that goes to show you that I do not know much. You are not as old as I once thought.”
“I think that is a compliment.”
Jemima yawned. “It is definitely a compliment. But I am tired now and I shall go back to bed.”
Not long after, Fulton turned up. “Good morning, Aunt Prudence. I hope you slept well.”
I was going to reply in the affirmative but instead told Fulton of my strange moment. “Fulton, I have a sense of foreboding.”
“Indeed, most disturbing. I shall have the groundsman search around the house and have the footman check all the rooms. I have learned not to ignore feelings.”
“Thank you, Fulton, for taking me seriously.”
“Breakfast is being set up in the morning room. Shall you take my arm and accompany me there. Milly and Edward are asleep. Jemima, I passed in the hallway. I believe Lily should be down soon for I heard her moving about in her room.”
Putting my rug aside, I took Fulton’s proffered arm and went with him into breakfast. Not long after, Lily joined us. She was shy at first, but with encouragement from Fulton was soon filling her plate and chatting amiably.
Later, Lily and I walked into the village and explored. It was lovely to see things from Lily’s perspective. “It is so different to home and to London. So quiet, so peaceful, so empty.”
“Let’s take a look in the drapers. They have some interesting things on display. And please tell me what it is that you import.”
While Lily told me of the different goods she imported, we admired the gloves, the bonnet trimmings and I ordered a small amount of linen for a project I wanted to work on.
By the afternoon, the household was awake, and we all talked, played cards and read.
Fulton dropped me a note to let me know that nothing had been found by the servants but that he was on the alert and assured me not to worry.
That night at dinner, I enjoyed spending time with Lily, who sparkled with liveliness and intelligence. It warmed my heart to see my family accept her and truly like her. There was no time for wondering what life would have been. Lily exclaimed over the food we ate, so different from her home or what she prepared herself. “So much meat,” she said. “I do not think I could get used to it.”
Desserts were also something to be talked over. “Do you not like rice pudding?” Jemima asked. “It is a favourite of mine.”
“We do not eat the rice in this way. Although I have had it with coconut milk, but the rice is a different variety to this.”
“There is more than one variety of rice?” Milly asked. “I did not know that.”
The next day passed off in a similar manner, relaxed and full of laughter. I felt so blessed to have had this time with my daughter, time I never imagined having.
Lily returned to London on the Monday, but not without promising to return on the weekend next.
The morning after Lily left, I went downstairs for morning tea, where I found Edward, Fulton, and Jemima, who refused to stay abed.
“Did you find any other skeletons in your closet, Aunt?” Jemima said by way of greeting.
“Enough to keep you entertained, dear girl.” I joked in return.
Jemima smiled and sipped her tea. “I cannot wait.”
“Indeed, so it would seem.” Unbeknownst to her, I had found a new hiding place for my scribblings and locked the manuscript away.
“I say,” Edward said. “I will be pleased to see our cousin Lily again. Such an unusual and interesting young woman.”
Fulton leaned back into the settee and stirred his tea. “Indeed. A woman of business. I would wager she must be quite capable if her father entrusted her with his concerns.”
Of Lily’s other skills, they had not been appraised. Although I itched to tell them, I foresaw that they would probably like to see rather than hear about these particular talents, and I wanted Milly to be present, in any case.
Jemima had replaced her elaborate pink robe with a demure gown of navy blue, adorned with small delicate silver buttons in a double row down the bodice and a thin line of embroidered silver vines along the hem and sleeve edges. She had at last adopted a crinoline, even though I did not particularly agree with that innovation. In the winter I preferred layers of warm petticoats. This made me ponder whether I was too set in my ways.
“So, Aunt Prudence, have you had any news from Sir Giles?” Jemima said before biting into a small round piece of shortbread.
As I was mid-sip, I choked on my tea. Edward passed me a serviette to mop up the mess. “Jemima!” Edward said in reproving tones.
Fulton rolled his eyes. “Is nothing sacred to you, Jemima?” he added.
“Must you pry into all my concerns and advertise them to everyone?” I responded.
Jemima swallowed a mouthful. “But Aunt, there have been times when you have pried into mine.” She looked at the plate of sweetmeats and selected a macaroon. “Besides, I am dying to know what the next instalment of your life will be.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes and shake my head. “I have not heard from Sir Giles, if you must know. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”
“But then I will have nothing to gossip about.
I smiled. “We all have our cross to bear, Jemima.”
Fulton lowered his cup and looked between Jemima and me. “Then it is true?” Fulton appeared eager.
Edward coughed. “Yes, indeed it is so. Sir Giles is a good sort of man.”
My heart sank. “Surely you did not tell them, Jemima!”
Jemima looked to the ceiling and pretended not to hear me. She had told them about the proposal. Why is it that the people you love and respect can so easily drive you to distraction?
“Thank you for your comment, Nephew. However, the matter is private and I do not wish to discuss it.”
“She cannot accept him because she is already married,” Jemima added smoothly, as if she hadn’t just added coal to the fire.
Fulton’s cup jiggled and he put it back on the tea tray. “Married? Have I missed something?
“It is in her memoir. She kept her marriage secret for reasons. Actually, I can understand why.”
The daggers I glared at Jemima slid right by her. I really wanted to do her some violence. Unfortunately, all my hatpins were upstairs, and I only wore a lace-trimmed cap. I pictured ramming it down her throat. “Jemima, please. Have a care for my—”
“We are family, are we not?” Jemima said. “Edward and Ambrose deserve to know, and besides, at the rate you are writing this thing, they may not live to see all your truths revealed.”
“But I had always assumed you were the maiden aunt. Mother never said you had been married.” Edward seemed genuinely grieved.
“I asked her not to. Charity understood why.”
Despite her insensitivity to my feelings, I found Jemima’s openness somewhat refreshing. It would, I realised, be a relief to lay these secrets before my family.
“Yes. I was married long ago,” I said to Fulton. To the rest of the table, I said, “The whole of the story you will have to wait for. Jemima has been sneaking a peek at the memoir I have been penning.” I knew she had read the whole of what I had written, but there was more.
Fulton nodded politely. “You will have a ready audience, let me assure you.” He poured another cup of tea and took a sandwich. Then, meeting Jemima’s eye, he said, “Please refrain from ruining the surprise for us.”
Edward blushed. “Yes, Jemima, you ought not upset Aunt Prudence. As she has undertaken to write a memoir, we should at least wait until she gives it to us to read.”
Jemima inclined her head. “Very well, I shall reveal nothing more. Forgive my impertinence, Aunt.”
“I will try, Jemima, but at this moment it is difficult.” I could not help but let some of my irritation show.
I was about to say more when the footman let the nurse in. “I am sorry, Mrs Huntington,” she said. “Young Louis is unsettled.”
Jemima put down her plate and stood up. “It appears that Master Huntington wants his morning tea as well. If you will excuse me.”
As she left the room, I took stock. Jemima’s pointed comments had me wondering. I really had to start thinking about Sir Giles’ offer. It had already been established that I could not accept him as I was already married but how would we go on? Were we never to see or speak to one another again? The lines of the sonnet, led me to suspect that was not the case. Yet would I have accepted him if I were free to do so? Would I be able to remain his friend now that I had declined his proposal? Would he care to be acquainted with me, knowing my reasons? How would he fit into my life? I was content right now, and felt almost complete, too, now that Lily had found me again. What would Sir Giles make of her? With all these considerations in mind, I went back upstairs to my scribblings.
After flicking through a few pages I had already written, I saw that Jemima had left some comments here and there.
Publish this, Aunt! Secret babies! Foreign adventures. You shall make a fortune!!
Further on, I found more. And scribbles. The woman had no sense of decorum.
Thinking of Jemima and her father sparked a memory.
England, date unknown
Once I thought I had met Wilbur Hardcastle, Jemima’s father. Now I began to ponder that meeting. Did I meet him in the flesh, or had it been that other kind of meeting, in spirit, like I had with Brandon when I was young or like recently when I dream-visited Yu Tang?
In that meeting, which seemed to be in the drawing room at Willow Park, Wilbur seemed young and fit—although not exactly charming.
“What are you doing here, madam?” he asked me, quite rudely.
“Visiting you, obviously,” I replied. How I knew who he was I cannot recall. I just knew he was my cousin Wilbur. “Although why I bothered I will never know.” There was no sign of the staff or of tea things. Now that I think about it, I had no recollection of travelling there.
“Did you come to see my daughter?” he asked me. “She needs friends.”
“Everyone needs friends. Is your wife at home?” I asked.
“Been dead these ten years. Poor lamb. Poor me, too—I miss her so.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
“Who are you again?” he asked, forehead creased but eyes watchful. “You look like one of my Hardcastle relatives.”
“Really, Cousin Wilbur, you must pay attention when your guests are announced. I am Prudence of the Hardcastle-Smythes.”
“Oh, that lot. Dunderheads the lot of them. Except maybe my great-nephew Theo.”
That was all that I recollected of the encounter.
It may seem odd for me to have stopped my writing there. But I had to, because Wilbur Hardcastle was suddenly sitting in my room, in the only remaining chair, and glaring at me. Not that he looked like the Wilbur I had met all those years ago. This Wilbur was skin and bone, and quite a sight to see. If anyone heard me cry out, they did not come to investigate. When I realised he meant me no harm, I found I could speak.
“Wilbur?” I ventured.
“Of course, who else would it be?” he replied grouchily.
I tried to respond to this but could not find a polite way to do so. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Cousin Wilbur?”
“I am uneasy. Jemima is in danger.”
My eyes widened. “In danger? She has given birth to a healthy boy and is up and around. I assure you she is quite well and back to her normal self.” God help me.
“A boy?” He frowned. “That was quick.” He rubbed his chin.
“Congratulations, you are a grandfather.”
He glowered at me. “While that is nice to know, it is not why I am here. Huntington told her how I died.”
“Yes, not the particulars, mind, only that you were murdered. I believe Jemima wants to ask Mr White about it.”
“Ferdinand?”
“Yes.”
Wilbur fell silent.
“Is that a problem?”
Wilbur looked up from his contemplation. “No. Ferdinand might help her find those responsible. The problem is that they are coming for her.”
“What? Now?”
“At my execution, they thought she was powerless and thus not worth killing—and besides, she was family and protected. But now it seems she has something they want…”
I blinked. Wilbur was serious. I was not imagining this meeting. “One lot already tried to take her ruby heart. She defeated them. Why are you telling me this?”
“No one else can hear me.”
I nodded slowly. “And?”
“You can.”
“Why can I see you though? Is it my Prudential Light?”
Wilbur growled and shook his head. “No. You have a natural ability to see through the veil. Not well developed, I admit. I have been trying to get your attention for a while.”
“Did I meet you in spirit when Jemima was young?”
“Indeed, you did. Very curious and unsettling that meeting was. Trust the Hardcastle blood to throw out the strangeness.”
“Will my prudential light be useful in assisting Jemima?”
Wilbur looked aghast. “How should I know that? Your talent is stunted, turned in on itself. If you can call on it at the precise moment it is needed, then certainly. As it is…”
Wilbur was not into flattery it seemed. “Do you know when this will occur?” I wanted to ask how he knew, but the day-to-day activities of ghosts—if that is what he was—were not something I wanted to be familiar with.
His head jerked up. “No. I have no concept of time. Not really. It seemed like yesterday when they drained me of my life force with their damned extractor machine. It is fortunate I have enough left to be able to talk to you. It has taken a while to build up the strength.” As he spoke his body began to fade, losing integrity with each word. “Be her friend, Prudence. Protect her, will you?”
