Chapter 8 #2
He looked at her and then at Mrs. Hodges, who regarded him through a narrowed gaze.
“Mayhap it’s not my place to say,” he said.
“Then perhaps it’s best you keep it to yourself,” Mrs. Hodges crisply replied.
Emma held up a hand. “No, I want to hear it. Harry, did you know that William Cox was pestering Prudence?”
“Not until later, ma’am, when Mrs. Hodges told me. But I don’t know if he was pestering her so much as …” He trailed off with a grimace.
“Yes?” Emma prompted after a few moments.
“I think Prudence may have been sweet on Mr. Cox,” he suddenly burst out. “And she wasn’t upset that he was pestering her, she was upset that he wasn’t.”
“Good heavens,” exclaimed Mrs. Hodges. “What are you going on about now?”
“I knew you wouldn’t like it,” he morosely replied.
Emma leaned forward. “So, you’re suggesting Prudence had feelings for William, and possibly even saw him as a beau?”
He shrugged. “I’m fair sure there was someone she was sweet on. It makes sense it would be Mr. Cox, if she was upset about him.”
Emma frowned. “I don’t follow.”
“If she was sweet on him and then found out that he was only flirting with her, she’d be upset,” he explained. “But men like that don’t take up with the likes of us, do they? Servants, I mean.”
Mrs. Hodges made an exasperated noise. “Prudence would know that. She was a practical girl.”
Even practical girls fell in love with men above their station.
Harriet, for instance, had once developed strong feelings for Mr. Elton—and even for George.
Emma supposed it wasn’t out of the question that Prudence might think herself an eligible match for William Cox, especially since her father was a respectable blacksmith with a good trade.
“So you think that Prudence was upset because William Cox rejected her?” she asked Harry.
He nodded. “That’s why she had a tipple to make herself feel better.”
Mrs. Hodges emphatically shook her head. “Prudence would no more steal a decanter of sherry than she would fall in love with William Cox.”
“Prudence’s family feels the same,” Emma said. “They insisted she would never do anything to jeopardize her position at Donwell.”
“That’s true, Mrs. Knightley.” The housekeeper directed a glare at Harry. “And you are not to spread that tale around. It’s sheer nonsense, and I don’t believe it for a minute.”
Harry’s shoulders went up around his ears. “Prudence was sweet on someone, though. I’d bet half a bob on that.”
Emma expected the housekeeper to refute that statement, too. Instead, she clamped her lips shut and looked as uncomfortable as Harry had a few minutes ago. Emma couldn’t help but recall that Mr. Parr had also suspected his daughter might be in love with someone.
“Mrs. Hodges, do you think Prudence had a beau?” she asked.
The housekeeper made a helpless gesture. “I cannot be sure. The only thing I can be sure about is that Prudence denied having a sweetheart.”
Emma lifted her eyebrows. “You asked her directly?”
“I did, ma’am.”
“May I ask why?”
“Starting about a month ago she was … well, not her usual self. She seemed distracted. I asked about a beau more in jest than anything else, but she blushed and looked mighty unhappy about the question. I’ll admit that gave me a worry.
I’m responsible for the girls in the house, ma’am.
I don’t want them getting themselves into trouble or being taken advantage of. ”
“The servants are fortunate to have you looking after them, Mrs. Hodges.”
Harry muttered something inaudible.
“Do you have something to say?” Mrs. Hodges tartly asked him.
Emma hastily intervened. “Prudence denied have a sweetheart, you said.”
The housekeeper nodded.
Another thought occurred. Harry certainly wasn’t the sharpest pin in the box, but he was a big, strapping fellow who most girls would consider attractive.
“Harry, what about you?” Emma asked. “Do you think Prudence had feelings for you?”
He stared for several long moments, and then burst into a loud guffaw.
Mrs. Hodges bristled. “You sound like a bellowing ox, Harry. Control yourself.”
The footman choked as he tried to stifle his laughter. “S … sorry, Mrs. Knightley. But Prudence would never look at a fellow like me. Too clever for me, she was.”
At least he knew his limitations. “I assume, then, that you didn’t harbor any feelings for her?”
“I have a girl back in Hampstead. We’ve been sweethearts since we was kids.” He perked up. “Mr. Hodges said you’ll be hiring more staff, so mayhap you’ll have a word with Mr. Knightley. Daisy would be ever so thrilled to work at Donwell Abbey.”
Mrs. Hodges jumped in. “Is there anything else we can help you with, ma’am?”
“I suppose none of the other servants would have any idea about how the decanter got up to Prudence’s room?” Emma asked.
“They do not.”
That brought Emma right back to William Cox. Despite Harry’s theory, it struck her as much more likely that William had been forward with Prudence, and had pursued her up to her room—with the decanter.
When Mrs. Hodges glanced at the watch pinned to her waist, Emma realized that the morning was getting on.
She stood. “I won’t keep you any longer, Mrs. Hodges. Perhaps we can speak tomorrow about the necessary changes—”
She stopped when the door to the stable yard opened and William Larkins strode into the kitchen, bringing in a blast of cold air. If he was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it.
“Good morning, Mrs. Knightley.”
“Actually, almost afternoon,” she humorously replied. “How are you, Mr. Larkins?”
“I’m tolerable, ma’am. Thank you for asking.”
In fact, he looked terrible. His normally ruddy features were drawn and pale, and he seemed to have aged overnight.
“Can I get you a cup of tea, Mr. Larkins?” asked Mrs. Hodges.
“No, I’m fine.” He glanced at Emma. “Can I be of any assistance, Mrs. Knightley?”
She thought to ask him about Prudence but decided against it. Larkins was a very private man and would no doubt be mortified to be questioned about the girl.
Then again …
“Yes, actually,” she said with a smile. “My nephew wishes to walk to Hartfield. I was going to take him, but I have an errand I must attend to. Are you by any chance going into the village today?”
Larkins nodded. “I am, and I’ll be happy to walk the boy to Hartfield.”
“I can do it if you’re busy,” Harry piped up.
Larkins gave him a somewhat dismissive glance. “I’m sure Mrs. Hodges needs your help around the house.”
“Indeed I do,” the housekeeper said. “Harry, you need to finish your dusting.”
The footman sighed. “Yes, Mrs. Hodges.”
Emma smiled at Larkins. “I’ll get Henry ready to go. In ten minutes, shall we say?”
“Very good, Mrs. Knightley.”
Excellent.
With her nephew sorted for the afternoon, Emma could pursue the question of William Cox. And she knew just the person to ask.