Chapter 14 #2
“Miss Jenkins,” Bridget said with brittle confidence. “I was hoping to run into you.”
Prim felt every hair on her body rise. Leo had warned her of this. He was sure that either his mother or his brother or both of them are the culprits of the fabricated scandal. For Bridget to openly admit that she was seeking Prim was certainly a bad sign.
“Since we are both here,” the Duchess continued, “I… I wonder if I might impose upon you for a moment of your time.”
The shop went still. All eyes flew to Prim, awaiting her reaction.
Madame Sybil didn’t know what exactly had transpired between the two ladies in her shop, but she was looking at Prim with a resolve that said ‘just say the word’.
Abigail shifted a little closer to her, her hand finding Prim’s in a silent encouragement.
As for the twins, they had no idea who the elegant lady requesting an audience with their sister was, but they could sense that something bigger was in play here.
“I am afraid I am chaperoning my sisters in this outing, Your Grace,” Prim said. “Perhaps another time.”
“Miss Jenkins, please.”
Prim studied the woman once more. Her shoulders, usually drawn back in impeccable posture, held a subtle, weary slump. The tone of her voice seemed earnest as if she really just wanted to talk to Prim, not out of malice but out of need.
Prim had relied on her instincts most of her life. She couldn’t expect guidance from her parents, so she developed an inner compass. Only one person had managed to make that compass useless: Leo. But the woman before her… Prim saw that there was honesty in the request.
“Very well,” Prim decided. “A moment. Abigail, will you, please, take care of my sisters?”
“Of course,” Abigail said with a warm smile. “I will be right here.”
The pointed tone was an open warning. Abigail would not hesitate to intervene if Prim was abused in any way. Prim nodded, grateful to her friend.
“Madame Sybil,” Prim asked very gently. “If you allow, may we use the private room?”
Madame Sybil straightened to her small stature and somehow became the tallest person in the room. She inquired with her look if she was comfortable with the arrangement. Prim nodded in reassurance.
“I will arrange for tea,” Madame Sybil said.
Prim followed the modiste into the private room, a cozy little room with delicate decoration, one round table, and two chairs.
Prim sat down on the side and watched as the Duchess took her place.
They sat silently, looking intently at nothing in their laps.
The maid brought a tea cart and left the room.
When the door closed, Prim dared to look at the woman across the table. Bridget did not reach for the teapot and, truth be told, Prim was in no mood for tea either. The Duchess’s hands remained clasped in her lap, the knuckles pale against the dark silk of her gown.
“Thank you for this audience,” Bridget said. “I know that Leo must have advised otherwise.”
Prim wished she had poured that tea after all. It would give her the perfect excuse to keep silent and gain some to answer that. How does one tell the mother of someone that her son warned her against his own mother?
“This is not easy for me, Miss Jenkins.” Bridget started. “And do not mistake this hesitation for pride. It is merely impossible to put in words how ashamed I am for what I did. I mean, at the Opera.”
“You give that day a lot more weight than it should have. I assure you, after your son warned me, I kept my distance. That is all.”
“Allow me to take responsibility at least for this. I saw a young woman in a vulnerable position, and instead of helping her out or at least keeping my distance, I became her worst enemy.”
“You are exaggerating, of course.”
“Perhaps not an enemy, but for sure a woman that you have been warned about.”
“Not the time for us to idle in conversation that makes no sense, Your Grace,” Prim said earnestly.
“I will then come to the reason I wanted this audience. Allow me to make amends,” Bridget said.
“Amends?”
“That is all I should be making for the rest of my life, it seems. And it still won’t be enough.”
Prim didn’t know what had happened between Leo and his mother, and they are in such a hostile situation. Perhaps it was because Bridget remarried, or even that she had another son. She couldn’t comprehend how a mother would allow for this rift to grow big without her heart bleeding.
Prim couldn’t conjure a possible scenario where she would decide to keep her distance from her sisters, and she wouldn’t do anything in her power to bridge that distance.
“What did you have in mind?” Prim decided that she should at least hear the Duchess out.
Bridget looked up with renewed hope. Prim was not, after all, rejecting her straight away.
Prim regarded the other woman’s look, and she gave ear to her instincts.
It was either the best performance in London and Prim had the exclusive ticket, or the Duchess was sincerely trying to rectify past mistakes.
“Every year, I host a ball. It is a very private event, exclusive, and hard to get an invitation to. I came to personally invite you,” Bridget said and procured an envelope. “It would mean a lot to me if you attended.”
“I don’t think…”
“Do not see this merely as a salve for my conscience, Miss Jenkins, though it is that. See it as a practical tool. My endorsement, displayed so publicly, would do more to silence the lingering whispers about you than a dozen balls hosted by anyone else.”
Prim knew that Bridget was right, of course.
An invitation to such a selective event by the mother of the man with whom she was entangled in scandal after his public courtship would send a clear and loud message of approval.
The Season was almost over, and her sisters’ situation hadn’t improved much.
Prim should seize this opportunity. As for the warning Leo had heeded, Prim was confident enough to deduce that the Duchess was sincere.
“It is very kind of you, Your Grace,” Prim said, and took the heavy, cream-colored envelope.
The Duchess received the acceptance with an audible and genuine sigh of relief. The strained mask slipped further, revealing a vulnerability that seemed entirely real.
“Thank you,” Bridget murmured, the words thick with an emotion Prim couldn’t quite name. “You cannot know what this means.”
Moment later, Prim emerged from the private room. The contrast between the tense quiet of the room to the joyful chaos of the atelier, with the bright silks, her sisters’ laughter, was like stepping into the sunlight.
“Everything settled?” Abigail was at her side as the Duchess of Covington left the place.
“Yes. The Duchess wanted to extend an invitation to her ball tomorrow personally.”
Abigail’s face darkened. Prim could see that her friend had a million warnings to issue. But she said nothing, simply giving Prim’s arm a brief, reassuring squeeze. Prim nodded. It was a gamble, perhaps a dangerous one.
But as her fingers traced the embossed crest on the envelope in her bag, Primrose Jenkins felt not fear, but a steely resolve. Let the Duchess of Covington play her games. Prim knew how to play, too. And for the sake of Camilla and Myrtle, she intended to win.