“And how are you this fine day?”
Lady Catherine responded with a harrumph before leaving her member of staff and leading the way into the morning room, indicating to the pair that they should follow. Both would have liked to change their outerwear, but followed meekly, Prudence gathering the skirts of her riding habit over her arm.
When the threesome entered the room, they saw that Anne was seated on one of the chairs near the fire, rubbing her hands in front of the flames.
“Do you ail, Anne?” Lady Catherine asked.
“No. Not at all. I’m just warming my hands,” she said with a reassuring smile, but there was a wariness in her expression.
“I expect you to ensure Anne has everything she needs to prevent her coming down with a cold,” Lady Catherine said to Prudence.
“I would not insult Anne’s intelligence by trying to tell her what to do and what not to do. There is very little difference in our ages. She would likely box my ears if I tried,” Prudence responded lightly, taking a seat closer to the window to try to avoid the oppressive heat of the room.
Lady Catherine glared at her niece, but before she had a chance to respond to Prudence’s comment, Fitzwilliam intervened. “Aunt, I’d love the opportunity to show off you and my two lovely cousins at the next assembly in Westerham. When is it to take place?”
“It would not be appropriate to take Anne. She would be fatigued because of the excursion.”
“I would not, Mother, and it would be nice to go,” Anne said quickly, looking daunted at disagreeing with her mother but gaining encouragement by the reassuring look Prudence sent in her direction at the words.
“Have you put these foolish ideas into Anne’s head?” Lady Catherine snapped at Prudence.
“Possibly,” Prudence admitted. “I asked if there was any opportunity for dancing in the area. Although I wouldn’t want Anne’s health to suffer as a result of my urge to dance.”
“Perhaps I could escort you, Cousin?” Fitzwilliam asked of Prudence, his eyes laughing with mischief. “That way, Aunt Catherine and Anne could remain at Rosings, and we could tell them of who was in attendance and who danced with whom.”
There was a slight pause while Lady Catherine looked with narrowed eyes at Fitzwilliam, as if assessing the seriousness of his words. She had seated herself in the largest chair in the room, her usual position, and she fiddled with the folds of her gown.
“We shall attend the next assembly,” she said finally.
The three occupants in the room breathed a sigh of relief.
“But I don’t expect you to dance, Anne,” came the warning.
“Of course not, Mother,” Anne replied obediently, but her eyes reflected the excitement she felt in attending an evening’s entertainment.
“If I could secure the first two dances with you, Cousin?” Fitzwilliam asked Prudence.
“That would be delightful.”
*
Anne was sitting on the chaise longue in Prudence’s bedchamber. Lady Catherine had put Prudence in Mrs. Jenkinson’s room, the latter’s possessions being banished to the attic until her return. The room was positioned at the rear of the house, overlooking the kitchen gardens. It was the smallest chamber on the floor, but was a floor below the servants’ rooms, acknowledging the elevated status of a companion. Anne could often be found in the chamber since her cousin’s arrival, enjoying the cosy room and warm fire.
Prudence had been teaching Anne a few dance steps, in the hope that her cousin would be able to dance at least one dance.
“It is very tiring,” Anne admitted, having needed to sit down to catch her breath.
“You aren’t used to a great deal of exercise, so it will be hard at the beginning. What you need is someone as understanding as Mr. Huxley to stand up with. And then if you should tire, he could take you out of the dance without a fuss being made,” Prudence coaxed.
“Mother would never agree to my dancing, but especially not with Mr. Huxley,” Anne said, aghast at the thought.
“That’s a shame. You should be able to dance with whomever you wish.”
“I envy you. You seem to do whatever you want,” Anne said.
“Not at all. I have constraints just as everyone else does. It is just that I’ve been brought up to think most things are achievable, and I haven’t got a mother with such steadfast opinions. I have run wild since my own mother died,” Prudence admitted.
“You managed to persuade Mother to take us to an assembly. That is an achievement indeed.”
“I think that had to do