The Colonel's Spinster - Audrey Harrison Page 0,44

I have been employed there. Lady Catherine seeks his counsel on many things. You could perhaps write to him.”

“That is the direction my own thoughts were tended,” Prudence admitted. “He is the closest family to us and might wish to visit in place of Lady Catherine. I shall send him an express.”

“Might I see Miss Anne?”

“I do not think it would be a good idea at the moment.”

“I would not put her at any risk.”

“I know. Believe me when I say it would be best waiting until she is a little better.”

“And if she doesn’t recover?”

“If I see a deterioration then I will send for you to say your goodbyes,” Prudence promised. Mr. Huxley choked at her words but managed to turn it into a cough. Prudence stood and walked to him, resting her arm on his shoulder. “We are going to do our very best to bring her back to us.”

“Thank you.”

Prudence left the room, understanding that Mr. Huxley needed time to gather himself. When she saw Anne, she wanted to wail with despair, but such reactions would do Anne no good at all.

Walking into the study, she immediately took a piece of parchment out of the drawer, and dipping the quill in the ink stand, started to write.

Dear Mr. Darcy,

I am sending this express to you as the nearest relative and the one to whom Lady Catherine very often turns when she seeks advice.

Recent events have resulted in Anne following Mr. Huxley to our abode. It is a long story, and now is not the time to divulge the details, but your imagination will probably reach the correct conclusion to the situation. Needless to say, it was a journey undertaken after an altercation with Lady Catherine. It appears our aunt had some sort of seizure ― to what extent and how well she is at present, I am afraid I have no knowledge.

Anne travelled across country alone except for one member of staff, and although her coachman tried to protect her and do the best for her in the circumstances, she has arrived in Stretford dangerously ill.

You can be assured that she is receiving every level of care, but I must be honest and inform you that the doctor is not confident of a recovery at this stage. It grieves me to write this, for she is very dear to me even after such a short acquaintance.

I need to inform Lady Catherine of the matter, but as I am not aware of her state of health I thought it wisest to contact you in the first instance. If yourself or Aunt Catherine wishes to visit Anne, you will be made welcome.

Your cousin,

Prudence Bamber.

There it was. She had done the right thing by Anne. Even if Aunt Catherine arrived on her doorstep, she would welcome her. She would do anything that might help Anne.

Standing and ringing the bell, she handed the express to the footman and returned to her cousin’s bedchamber.

*

The following seven days had to be the longest of Prudence’s life. The whole household seemed to feel the tension, which seeped into every room.

Each person hovered whenever the doctor visited, which was often, hoping to hear a snippet of good news for the young woman they did not know, but who was fighting for her life under their roof. Their shoulders would sag when the housekeeper would show the doctor out and gently shake her head in the negative at the onlookers.

Prudence joined her father each night to eat supper with him. Mr. Huxley was company for her father, but she needed the small semblance of normality eating a meal at the dining table brought.

Each evening, she was greeted with the same words from Mr. Huxley. “Any improvement?”

And each time she had to give the same response. “No. I am sorry.”

It was the eighth evening, and when Prudence entered the drawing room, Mr. Bamber shook his head at his daughter.

“You are losing weight, Prudence, and you are as pale as I have ever seen you. I insist you have a break from the sick room, or you will be joining your cousin.”

“I’m fine, Papa. Truly.”

“No, you are not. I won’t stand by whilst you waste away. That will do neither yourself nor Anne any good.”

They were interrupted by the entrance of the butler. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but there is a gentleman at the door requesting to see Miss Prudence. He says he’s a cousin.”

Prudence’s eyes flew to Mr. Huxley. “It must be Mr. Darcy.” Turning to