Chapter 20 #2
Mrs. Hennings held up a finger before dashing from the room. She returned a moment later with another paper and gave it to Great-Aunt Flora. “This should have what you’re looking for,” she said with a smile.
“Thank you very much.” Great-Aunt Flora smiled with anticipation as she settled into a chair to read.
The housekeeper turned to Bennet and inclined her head toward the door, seeming to indicate she wanted to speak with him privately.
Nodding, he followed her into the narrow staircase hall. “Thank you for fetching that for my great-aunt. I wish she didn’t like to follow gossip so much.”
“I was quite surprised to see you’d brought them with you,” Mrs. Hennings observed.
“They insisted on coming, and I thought I could use the support, quite honestly.”
Mrs. Hennings’s features creased with concern. “Does this have anything to do with Lady Glastonbury? I confess I was curious as to why she returned to London without you. Which brings me to the reason I wished to speak with you.” Now she looked positively pained.
Dread stole through him.
“You know my daughter is maid to Lady Basildon,” Mrs. Hennings said. “In her position, she hears an astonishing amount of gossip.”
Bennet’s breath caught. What now?
“There is a rather unsavory rumor going about that you only married Lady Glastonbury because she is carrying a child, that you were paid to do so by her cousins, to whom she is…scandalously related.”
Every curse word Bennet had ever heard raced through his brain, along with an overwhelming need to personally and physically destroy whoever had started this. “Did Lady Basildon start this rumor?”
Mrs. Hennings blinked in surprise. “I don’t know. There is more, however.”
Fuck! Bennet massaged his forehead. “Do tell.”
“There is speculation that the babe isn’t even yours since you and Lady Glastonbury seem to be living separate lives.” She grimaced, her gaze full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry to have to relay this, but I knew you would want to know.”
“I appreciate you telling me,” he murmured, his mind working through not only how this could have started, but how this was affecting Prudence. She would be devastated. And rightfully so.
While he was nowhere to be seen. In fact, his absence had made this even worse.
He realized Mrs. Hennings was watching him warily. “Rest assured, Mrs. Hennings, Lady Glastonbury and I are not living separate lives. And though it is no one’s business but our own, my wife is expecting my child.”
“Should I ask my daughter to share that information with Lady Basildon?” Her question held a bit of a squeak at the end.
Bennet realized she was nervous, and he didn’t blame her. He probably looked furious enough to throttle someone. He certainly felt that angry. “I’d rather not justify their nasty gossipmongering. And by ‘their,’ I don’t mean your daughter. I know she is only trying to be helpful.”
“Absolutely, my lord. She was most distressed on your behalf.”
He didn’t doubt that. Jane Hennings had worked in his father’s London household several years ago when there had been more money.
Bennet felt terrible that she’d had to leave.
“Perhaps when Lady Glastonbury comes to live here, your daughter might want to return to this household as her lady’s maid.
She could also help you around the house.
” Not just because it might be necessary—he knew Prudence wouldn’t be comfortable having a maid dedicated solely to her.
He was getting ahead of himself. He hadn’t even persuaded her to come back. He wasn’t sure he could.
Mrs. Hennings’s brows lifted gently in surprise. “I’m sure she would be most enthusiastic, my lord.”
“Excellent. Don’t say anything yet.” He didn’t regret making the offer, but now he had to determine how to pay for it. Taking a deep breath to halt the rising panic and frustration, he wondered if things would ever be easy.
Mrs. Hennings nodded, then went on her way.
Bennet went to the base of the stairs and gripped the post, bending his head as though he just couldn’t support the weight of it any longer.
His mind galloped with thoughts and worries and, most of all, a towering rage.
He dug his fingertips into the wood, but the surface was, like his current situation, unforgiving.
And his current situation was entirely his fault. Not the rumor, of course, but he’d made it worse by not being at his wife’s side.
“I heard what she said,” Great-Aunt Flora said.
Bennet jerked his head up to see her just inside the staircase hall. “I would prefer to be alone at the moment, please.” He wished he hadn’t brought her or her sister.
“I can imagine—what a debacle. However, we can fix it.” She sounded quite confident.
“How?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at the certainty in her gaze.
“We shall reclaim the narrative.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and now he saw determination. “Gossips like to hear themselves talk—I should know. We must give them something else to talk about. Something that is better than this.”
Every thought in his head vanished. He simply stared at her. “I pray you have an idea, because I do not.”
“Not yet, but I will.”
The need to see Prudence was overwhelming, but he acknowledged it would be better if he had a plan in place. Not that he was at all confident in whatever plan Great-Aunt Flora might devise. “When can I expect this scheme of brilliance?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t be saucy.”
He tamped down his agitation. “I’m quite anxious to see Prudence, and I’d rather do so after we have taken steps to defeat this rumor. Prudence is why we came here, remember?”
“Of course, I remember. It’s why Minnie and I insisted on coming. You clearly need our help, now more than ever.” She turned and went back into the study, crossing immediately to the desk. “What invitations have you received?”
“Hardly any.”
“We need a ball.”
Bennet recalled there was one invitation to a ball. He strode to the desk and rifled through the pile until he found the one that he sought. “It’s tonight.”
“Oh dear. I suppose Minnie and I will just have to make do with what we have.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, Great-Aunt Flora, but this isn’t about you. Why do we need to go to a ball?”
“Because you need to do something to quash those rumors. You need to give them something far more delicious to talk about.” She patted his arm. “We’ll come up with something.”
“That won’t be necessary,” he whispered, his mind racing. “I need to go.”
He spun about, seeing very clearly what needed to happen. He just had to make certain the right people were in attendance.
Prudence had barely slept last night beneath the weight of her worry for her mother and whether Peterborough was exacting some sort of awful vengeance. Thankfully, that morning she’d received word that the countess had spent the night safely at her brother’s house.
That had left Prudence to focus the majority of her worry on the rumors about her as well as her future. What would Bennet say about all this if he were here? Had he heard about it way out in Somerset? If not, he would soon since Flora kept a keen eye on London gossip.
“Well, that was dull.” Kat jumped up from her favorite reading chair and went to replace the book on the shelf.
Prudence turned from the window. “You’ve finished already?”
“I skimmed the last half.” Given how quickly she read, Prudence wondered what that looked like. “And now I’m bored. I think I’ll go for a walk. I’d invite you, but you’ll only refuse again.”
Because Prudence had declined to take walks since arriving in London. At first because she’d been wallowing in self-pity. Now, she didn’t wish to encounter anyone who would look at her with disgust.
Before she could respond, Bart entered. “Lady Glastonbury, Lady Peterborough is here to see you. She is waiting in the drawing room.”
“Thank you, Bart.” Prudence glanced toward Kat, who waved her off.
“It’s not as if you’re my companion any longer,” Kat said.
“Though I daresay you wish you were. Seems it was more pleasant for you than marriage. I do think this has sealed my decision to remain unwed. I shall be the greatest bluestocking spinster London has ever known.” She fairly skipped from the library, and Prudence was grateful for the smile she couldn’t hold back.
Hurrying upstairs, Prudence went to the drawing room to meet her mother. The countess stood just inside and gave her a sad smile as Prudence walked in.
“My poor dear,” Christina said, holding her arms out.
Prudence hesitated. While she was eager to see that her mother was all right, she wasn’t certain she wanted to rush into her arms. Their relationship hadn’t progressed quite that far. Had it?
The countess frowned slightly. “I thought you might like to be comforted. Is that not your nature? It seemed as though it was when you came to see me that first time.”
“I was rather emotional that day.” She was rather emotional every day now. “This also seems…strange. You never behaved this way with Cassandra, and she was in need of mothering.”
Christina paused before responding. “I know. I admit I struggled to show her as much affection as she needed. She reminded me of losing you. It was too hard. I wish I’d been a better aunt, but I did my best.”
Prudence went to embrace her mother.
The countess wrapped her arms around Prudence and held her tightly. “What a mess this has become.”
They broke apart, and Prudence was surprised to realize she felt a bit better. “I’m glad to see you are well. What happened with Peterborough?” Prudence was almost afraid to ask.