The Colonel's Spinster - Audrey Harrison Page 0,12

more with our cousin’s words than mine,” Prudence acknowledged.

“He’s very good.”

“Yes, he is a good sort,” Prudence said. The new cousin was becoming far more important to her than she could have supposed at the start of her introduction into her mother’s family.

“And single,” Anne said with a sly look.

“Just you watch what you are suggesting, Miss De Bourgh,” Prudence said primly. “Our cousin is as likely to fix his interest on me as you are to stand up with Mr. Huxley.”

“Maybe a dance with Mr. Huxley is not so unachievable after all,” Anne said with a smile.

“Pfft. You have claws, Cousin, and are a minx to boot. This meek and mild exterior is just to fool us all.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Anne replied.

Chapter 4

Walking downstairs, Fitzwilliam noticed the door to the study was ajar, and catching a glimpse of a muslin skirt, he changed direction and entered the room.

Prudence was standing, looking at the portrait hanging over the fireplace. She had a wistful air about her but smiled in welcome at Fitzwilliam.

“Ah, you are looking at the three sisters,” Fitzwilliam said. The portrait was done when the sisters were all under twenty years of age. They were gathered together, the painting just showing their shoulders and heads, and although they were not smiling, there was a twinkle in one of the sister’s eyes.

“Did you know that my mother was in this portrait when it was first painted?” Prudence asked.

“Really? No. I have never heard that before,” Fitzwilliam admitted.

“Anne said Aunt Catherine admitted to the fact when Anne asked if there were any portraits of my mother. Our grandfather had this painting altered after Mama married Papa and destroyed any paintings of just Mama.”

“I realise you must remember your mother clearly,” Fitzwilliam said. “Have you any likenesses of her?”

“Oh, yes. Father was besotted with her, and Mama’s picture is in all forms at home. There are a few of us together, which I now treasure even more.”

Fitzwilliam frowned as he considered the painting. Portraits cost money. Lots of it, depending on the painter. He was surprised a cotton worker could afford more than one portrait. It niggled at him, along with other inconsistencies about Prudence. He was distracted from his ponderings by a sigh from her.

“What is it?” he asked gently.

“I would have liked to have seen them together,” Prudence admitted. “I do not resemble Mama ― or Papa for that matter. I have always wondered where I fitted in, if that makes sense? I obviously know where I belong, and I am happy with my life. Don’t misunderstand me. But there was always a part missing. A part I was curious about.”

“I suppose there would be. Your father clearly understood, hence his wishing for you to get to know us.”

“Yes. He is an astute man and a considerate one. I would have understood if he’d never wished me to be in contact with mother’s family, but he was always aware that there were questions bubbling inside me.”

“You are very like Darcy’s mother,” Fitzwilliam said. “I actually thought that from the moment I saw you.”

It was Prudence’s turn to frown at the painting. “Do you think so? To me, she is the prettiest of the sisters, which is utterly appalling of me to say as one of those is your own mother!”

Laughing, Fitzwilliam folded his arms in mock anger. “I am disgusted at your insult. Be gone! Back to the north, wench!”

“Buffoon!”

“My mother would love to have met you before now,” Fitzwilliam said. “I think our grandfather was of similar characteristics as Aunt Catherine. What he said was never challenged by his daughters. I wish she were close by so I could ask ― so you could ask ― all the questions Aunt Catherine would never answer. One day I am sure you will meet.”

“Yes. I foolishly tried to ask question after question when I first arrived, expecting that Aunt Catherine would fill all the gaps for me. Unfortunately, whenever I brought up the subject of my mother, all I received was either a scolding or a lecture about my mother’s actions in eloping.” Prudence grimaced. “It is a shame that she is only remembered for one tiny moment in her life.”

“That happens very often, I think. Particularly where characters like Aunt Catherine are concerned. Cousin Elizabeth will always be too lowly birthed for Darcy, no matter how well she is at being mistress of Pemberley, which is larger than Rosings. Anne will always be a fragile