“That is more true than you realize,” Mr. Whitfield said, and leaned forward on the settee. “Though I can appreciate your joy, I feel impelled to caution you, Miss Bosworth. Wealth can be an enormous burden.”
“Burden?” That notion was so absurd, Prudence couldn’t help laughing, despite the man’s grave countenance. “How can wealth be anything but a blessing? With money, one can do anything. Why, all my life I’ve wished I were rich!”
The solicitor studied her with a thoughtful expression. “The only thing more difficult to bear than an unfulfilled wish, my dear, is a wish come true.”
Prudence got her first inkling of Mr. Whitfield’s meaning the following day after church. Aunt Edith arrived.
She and Maria were in their flat, removing their gloves, cloaks, and hats in preparation to join the other ladies of the lodging house for Sunday-afternoon tea downstairs, when the news of Edith’s arrival was brought to them by Dorcas, the parlor maid.
“That didn’t take long,” Maria murmured after Dorcas had departed. “They must have taken an express train.”
Prudence made a face as she began pulling off her gloves. “My aunt has never been in that much of a hurry to see me.”
“Until now.”
There was an emphasis in Maria’s voice that caused Prudence to pause. She gave a sigh of acknowledgment. “Because of the money, I suppose.”
“Of course it’s the money!” Maria skewered her hat with her hat pin and tossed it onto her bed. “It isn’t out of concern for you.”
“No,” she agreed mildly as she resumed her task. “I know that.”
Maria bit her lip, looking contrite. “I’m sorry. I’m happy for you, of course I am. You’ll never have to work or scrape by or any of that again.”
“Only if I marry, and that’s by no means certain.”
“Oh, you’ll find someone. You’ll be leaving us behind, moving in high circles, meeting all sorts of gentlemen, and one of them’s bound to catch your fancy. Your life is going to be so different from now on, and everything is going to change—” Her voice broke and she turned away. “They’ll be waiting tea. Let’s go down.”
Maria took a step toward the door, but Prudence stopped her, putting a hand on her arm and turning her around. This was the first opportunity she’d had to discuss her new situation with her friend. Maria had served at another ball the previous night and was very late arriving home, too late for Prudence, who had tumbled into bed, still excited but also exhausted, at ten o’clock. She’d barely had time to tell her friend the news this morning on the way to church.
“Maria, everything’s going to change for the better. I’m not the only one who won’t have to work. If I do marry and inherit this money, I’m giving some of it to you. Yes, I am,” she added when her friend started to protest. “I want you to have a share.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“But I want you to have it. You can use it as a dowry for yourself or as a nest egg or—”
“I said I don’t want your money!” Maria spoke with such vehemence, Prudence was startled.
“But why not? There will be plenty to go around.”
“That’s not the point. Wealth is a curse. It…it does things to people.”
This statement was an almost exact echo of what Mr. Whitfield had said, but Prudence didn’t understand it any better now than she had yesterday. “How can you say that? Why, you and I are always buying sweeps tickets and dreaming of what we’d do if we had pots of money. And now we do.”
“No, we don’t. You do.”
“What’s mine is yours,” she said firmly. “You’re having some of it, and I won’t take no. And I want our other friends to have some, too. Lucy and Daisy and Miranda and Mrs. Morris—I want everyone here at Little Russell Street to have some of it. And I’ll give some to charities, too.”
“Oh, Pru.” Maria pulled free of her hand and sat down on the edge of her bed with a sigh. “You can’t just go around giving your money away to everyone who needs it. It’s not that simple. Don’t you see that?”
“Of course, I’ll only give it away to those who are deserving,” she began, and sat down opposite her friend on the edge of her own bed. “I’ve been thinking about it all morning, and I have some ideas. I want to give some for orphans, and illegitimate children, and—”
The sound of the front door opening interrupted this outline of her plans, and a high, arch voice floated through the open doorway from the parlor of the flat. “Prudence?”
She groaned under her breath, but when her aunt came bustling into the bedroom, she forced herself to smile as she stood up and turned to greet her.
“Prudence, there you are!” The older woman entered the small bedroom, her hands outstretched in greeting. “My dear.”
“Aunt Edith,” Prudence said as she accepted a kiss on the cheek. “This is quite a surprise.”
“I don’t know why. Mr. Whitfield was to have informed you to expect us in town.”
“He didn’t tell her you were taking the overnight express,” Maria said, her voice cheery.
Prudence started to laugh, but managed to transform it into a tactful little cough as she gestured to the woman standing nearby. “Aunt, you do remember Miss Martingale?”
Edith’s smile froze in place. “Of course,” she said. “I believe we met on my last visit.”
“What a wonderful memory you’ve got, Mrs. Feathergill,” Maria answered at once, “to remember something that happened so long ago.”
The rebuke was plain, and Aunt Edith began bristling. “Now see here, young woman, there are reasons I haven’t been to London for some years now, and I resent your implication—”
“Will you take tea with us, Aunt?” Prudence interrupted, compelled to jump into the breach before a quarrel could begin.
Edith recovered herself with an effort. “Tea? Oh, no, dear, not today. You and I are having tea with Sir Robert and his mother. You do remember Steven’s cousin, Sir Robert Ogilvie, and his mother Millicent? They stayed with us one summer when you were living with us.”
“Yes, of course,” she answered politely. She was lying, of course, for she barely remembered Robert and his mother, and she doubted they remembered her, for they hadn’t ever bothered to answer any of her letters when she first arrived in London eleven years earlier. “They’ve invited us to tea?”
“Yes. Sir Robert is a baronet now, you know. You didn’t seem much impressed with him when you were fifteen, but you might change your mind when you see him now. He’s turned into quite a handsome gentleman, and he is most eager to renew his acquaintance with you.”
“Of course he is,” Maria muttered, but at Prudence’s imploring look, she turned away. “They’ll be waiting tea, I expect, so I’d best go down. I’ll tell them you won’t be joining us today, Pru. If you’ll pardon me?” She bobbed a departing curtsy to Edith and practically ran out of the room. Prudence watched her escape with a hint of envy.
“Impertinent girl,” Edith pronounced the moment the door of the flat closed behind Maria. “Is it necessary for her to be so forthcoming with her opinions?”
Already Prudence was remembering all the reasons she’d left Sussex. “Maria is my friend. She has my best interests at heart.”
“As we all do, dearest. Though you didn’t particularly appreciate my guidance and advice when you were a girl. You were so rebellious then. So stubborn.”
Prudence remembered the three years she’d lived with her uncle’s family somewhat differently, but she knew there was no point in discussing the topic at this late date.
“Heavens, look at the time,” Edith exclaimed with a glance at her brooch watch. “We’d best get on with things. There is so much to do.”
“Is there?” she asked, happy to change the subject.
Ignoring the question, Edith gestured to the armoire against one wall. “Your gowns are in here, I suppose?” Without waiting for an answer, she crossed the room and opened the doors of the armoire to examine Prudence’s wardrobe. As she perused the garments within, she gave a heavy sigh. “Just as I thought. Not a thing here fit to wear.”
Prudence, who had made all the clothes in question, set her jaw, folded her arms and did not reply.
“My dear child,” Edith said as she continued rooting through Prudence’s clothes, “how have you been spending the two pound and six allowance your uncle sends you each quarter?”
Lodgings. Food. Minor things like that. She bit her lip.
Edith glanced over her. “The green wool you have on will do well enough for today, I suppose, but we simply must have you fitted with suitable gowns as soon as possible. It’s fortunate that even the most exclusive dressmakers keep a few ready-made dresses to hand. We ought to be able to find you something decent to wear for Tuesday evening.”
“Tuesday evening?”
“Yes, dear. We are attending the opera. Sir Robert has a box, and he has invited us to join him. We must find you a gown suitable to the occasion.” She pulled out a gray serge walking suit and looked it over, then put it back. “At least we won’t have to pack any of these. They can be bundled up and taken to charity.”