Chapter Six
Prudence Rushworth was a woman of active mind and body alike.
A lesser woman of her age, she imagined, might have been fatigued from the journey south, but she was not.
Having broken off from the Bertram party the day before, Prudence and her son had reached the inn at Petworth, where she had appointed to meet with Margaret, very late in the evening.
If Prudence was fatigued, it was not from the long hours of traveling, but from spending them consoling her dear James.
He had been past all consolation since Prudence's spy at Mansfield had reported Sir Thomas’ intention to go to Norland.
His misery was all for the loss of Maria, for his mother had given him every reassurance that Sir Thomas would allow him some opportunity to win her back—provided they were in the same county.
Prudence’s concern was greater. What could Sir Thomas mean, going to Norland?
Oh, she knew very well what he intended—to warn his son, and perhaps plot against her.
But did he truly think she would allow such a thing?
He ought to have imagined she would use her influence to follow him thither and obstruct him, and she was disappointed in his clumsy miscalculation.
She had expected, and almost looked forward to his giving her more of a thrilling challenge. But no matter.
To keep things interesting, Prudence had allowed her rival a day’s head start.
Of course, the caveat was that he would likely be squirming the whole time, knowing that she likewise had some advantage in meeting with Margaret again, before they all converged at Norland.
The next morning, Prudence broke her fast with her relations at the inn after coaxing James into tranquil enough spirits to meet with his Dashwood cousins.
He might have done rather well with them, to be sure, were it not for the unexpected additions to her niece’s party.
Mrs. Jennings seemed a good sort; as a woman of the same age, rank, and desire to be useful to the Dashwoods, Prudence sensed she had found a natural ally, though the woman was far from discreet.
It was the dashing young Mr. Willoughby who gave her pause.
His handsome face and easy manners were generally good recommendations, but these advantages clearly made her son uneasy, and over the course of the meal Prudence imagined this Willoughby must seem like another Henry Crawford to poor James, for he was much cowed by the man.
Happily, Willoughby was soon discovered to be Marianne’s beau, which was the lesser disappointment in Prudence’s estimation.
After all, she had already determined that Elinor was the likeliest sister to tempt James, if he could be swayed from Maria.
Her steadiness of character was just what Prudence could like, and clearly the eldest girl had the sense not to be taken in by a charming rake.
Best of all, it would be Elinor who would soon inherit Norland, if Sir Thomas did not cooperate, and Prudence had no desire for him to actually cooperate—she merely wished the man to feel all the responsibility of his part in John Dashwood’s exposure.
Their family repast at the inn was brief, but fruitful enough, for Elinor was just encouraging enough to James that Prudence was able to cajole her son into riding in the carriage with his cousins, and giving Margaret his place in Prudence’s barouche.
Prudence made a great show of thanking Mrs. Jennings for her chaperonage, and took the opportunity to intimidate Mr. Willoughby somewhat, as he was ascending the carriage behind Marianne.
She fairly pinned him against the side of the equipage, stamping the cane she carried purely for such purposes, and gave him a quelling look.
“I very much hope we shall have the chance to speak later, young man. I take an eager interest in my niece and her daughters, and I would be remiss if I did not put some questions to you when the opportunity avails itself. My son you shall find a firm friend, if you show yourself worthy in that regard; and if you do not, I am sure I shall hear of it.”
Prudence required no response beyond the look in his eye that confirmed she had rattled him enough to restore her son’s confidence among the ladies.
Satisfied, she had only to suggest that adventurous young Margaret ride atop her luxurious barouche to catch the first glimpse of Norland, and then her privacy with her niece was fixed.
Margaret gave Prudence a knowing look as the carriages began to move. “Well, that was all prettily arranged, Aunt.”
“Ah, but of course James will be wanting to get to know the girls! And what a sight they must be, lovely creatures—James’ poor broken heart—and your daughters so gentle and sweet—Elinor in particular—and how eligible they shall soon be!”
Margaret rolled her eyes and smiled coyly. “Come now, I appreciate your raptures, but you need not dissemble with me. I read your letter.”
“And?”
There was a loaded pause. “I still think it quite a drastic measure.”
“Yes, you said as much in August, but your circumstances were rather different at the time.” Prudence scowled; she had imagined poverty must be convincing enough, unless Margaret had abominably low standards.
“You must miss Norland, or you would not have undertaken such a journey.” Margaret shifted uncomfortably, and Prudence pressed on.
“Perhaps you tell yourself that you merely mean to dissuade me from being too severe, but I believe a part of you wants it. You may hope to fail, and, my dear girl, you shall fail if you mean to interfere. It must be done.”
“I only think we need not take things quite so far. May we not speak to John about it, and see what can be worked out? Though the house is not rightfully his, Elinor would not like to rob him. We want only a fair portion, and surely he would find such an arrangement preferable to the alternative—to losing everything.”
“Henry’s will was very clear, from the terms in which it was left to him by his uncle.
Henry’s first born must have Norland, and if your daughter is really so modest, she may choose to dispense some portion upon John.
As badly as he and his wife have handled taking possession of the place, can you not take satisfaction in what justice must come from this? ”
“The Bertrams are my relations by marriage—would you really wish to wound them so publicly?”
Prudence snorted. “After what they have done to poor James? I wonder you could even ask. What a careless man your brother-in-law Sir Thomas is! The very same man, mind you, who has cuckolded your own late husband in a most infamous manner! What a great pillar of folly, this man. He goes out of the country to attend his plantations—and I trust you know what barbarism that sordid business entails—and allows his daughter, attended by a flighty mother and officious aunt, to form an attachment, he gives his approval from halfway across the world, only to rescind it immediately upon returning! This is an insult against my son of the most shocking nature, as if James had been misrepresented to him, and found wanting! And all upon the whim of a spoilt girl whose head has been turned by a puny little seducer of no account whatsoever!”
Margaret looked stunned by Prudence’s vehement speech. Recovering herself, she replied, “If this is your opinion of Miss Bertram, whom you must recall is my own niece by marriage, then I can only wonder at your wanting her for James, dearest aunt. Perhaps it is a blessing in disguise.”
“That may very well be, but I cannot stand the slight, and all the grief and disappointment poor James has been made to endure. Really, Margaret, he is the kindest, most tender-hearted lad—far too good for her, I am sure—and yet so in love with her! But your Elinor is a good girl! I know she had her fancy for Fanny’s brother at Norland, but I cannot imagine Fanny should allow them to meet again now—what blessings might arise should they turn to one another in their disappointment! ”
“I should rather hope Elinor is spared such feelings,” Margaret sighed. Prudence shrugged, satisfied at least that Margaret had not bristled at her ambitions for James having both Sotherton and Norland.
“And if she is not? Should Fanny Dashwood continue to impede Elinor’s hopes, might that persuade you of the merits in my plan?
” This remark hit its target dead on, Prudence could see it on her niece’s face.
“You know that I am right, my dear. You think kinder of these people than they ever have of you. They would have put you in the hedgerows, were it not for our cousin, Sir John, offering you Barton Cottage. That man parading about Norland like an imbecilic peacock had not the decency to consider your grief at a time of great suffering, and he has done nothing since that time for your girls—and all these years he has been given innumerable advantages he was never entitled to! His wife, vicious creature that she is, would cast aspersions on your daughter, the true firstborn Dashwood—what irony that Elinor’s taking Norland would make her too great a catch for this Edward Ferrars, yet Elinor has been needlessly punished under the reverse assumption.
Does this not move you to some action, Margaret?
I know your tender heart must be fueled into some passion at all this injustice. ”
“Of course I am angry,” Margaret snapped, and Prudence was pleased to see her riled at last. “These last three months have been a terrible thing in so many ways—and yet some good has come of what we have endured.”
“I hope you do not mean that simpering, winking fellow attached by an invisible thread to Miss Marianne.”
“We are all very attached to Mr. Willoughby, Aunt. He is a good man, whose lively company has made these last few months bearable.”