and Phoebe.
“Once I was apprised of your plans, I took the liberty of writing a very dear friend of mine, who can be counted upon for the very best judgment. And she has sent me a prompt reply,” the matron said. Digging in her massive reticule, she soon brandished a piece of paper and handed it, triumphantly, to Prudence.
“Mrs. Broadgirdle, in Gardener Street,” she said, huffing proudly from her exertions. “There, now, Prudence, you have your chaperone, and a very fine one, I am assured. And just think, you will be doing the woman a service by hiring her!”
Although Prudence had misgivings about letting Mrs. Bates direct anything in her life, she nodded reluctantly. After all, the girls were in need of an older woman to stay with them, and their cousin Hugh, being an established bachelor, did not know anyone who could fill the position.
“Very well,” she said firmly. “Thank you, Mrs. Bates.” Rising from her seat at long last, the older woman fairly beamed with her success—or her mastery, Prudence mused. Ushering her to the door, Prudence assured her that they would, indeed, make arrangements with the chaperone at once.
When the door finally closed behind the meddlesome woman, Prudence pushed her spectacles back up upon her nose and glanced again at the direction in her hand. With the instincts of a pinch-penny, she wondered just how much the cost of Mrs. Broadgirdle would add to their expenses—and whether the lady would be worth the price.
Prudence eyed her new employee with decided misgivings. Had she not known otherwise, Prudence would have suspected that Mrs. Bates had personally chosen their would-be chaperone with the sisters’ discomfiture in mind. In total defiance of her surname, Mrs. Broadgirdle was a tall, bony woman, thin as a rail, who looked upon them with a superior air that Prudence found most disconcerting in a paid companion.
Having traveled by public coach, the girls had been tired and rumpled by the time they arrived at the London inn where Mrs. Broadgirdle was to meet them. Though they longed for nothing more than to reach their cousin’s residence before nightfall, they were first forced to endure the woman’s critical scrutiny.
And, from the looks of her, they definitely came up wanting. Although Mrs. Broadgirdle’s gaunt face, with its sharp features, little resembled Mrs. Bates’s plump visage, Prudence nonetheless recognized that the two matrons were kindred spirits. Mrs. Broadgirdle would, no doubt, attempt to make their stay as miserable as possible.
Right now, she was emitting a strange hissing sound, presumably to convey her disapproval, as she eyed her new charges. “Your clothes, of course, proclaim your country origins,” she said bluntly. Prudence ignored the insult, having never evinced the slightest interest in matters of wardrobe, but she saw that the pointed words had their desired effect upon Phoebe, who looked down at her wrinkled muslin in dismay.
“New clothes must be the order of the day,” Mrs. Broadgirdle said. Then she sent a sharp glance toward Prudence. “Unless you cannot afford them.”
Prudence smiled. “We are not without funds, and if different gowns are called for, then we shall certainly have some made up for us.”
Although Mrs. Broadgirdle only nodded sullenly, Prudence could have sworn she heard Mrs. Bates’s “Humph” echoing in her tired brain. This would not do at all.
“Perhaps it would be best to make myself clear at the outset,” Prudence told the woman. “If your wish is to make us unhappy, then, by all means, you may try, but I should warn you that you may find yourself without employment.”
Mrs. Broadgirdle’s startled black eyes flew to hers, reassessing her boldly, and, finding that Prudence would not be intimidated, she frowned sulkily. Prudence hid her answering smile. Although she had often been taken to task for her plain speaking, she found it the easiest and speediest way to resolve such problems. And, as Grandmama had often told her, it was always better to begin as you meant to go on.
The girls took a hackney cab to their cousin’s apartments, to Mrs. Broadgirdle’s horror, though why someone who had to hire herself out for a living should have such haughty airs, Prudence could not imagine.
“I have no knowledge of the country, but in town, all is appearance,” Mrs. Broadgirdle explained in strained accents. “If anyone should see you riding in such a… conveyance, they will mark you as inferior, not only to the elite, but to the gentry! And all hopes of securing successful marriages will be lost,” she added, eyeing Prudence with especial scorn.
Prudence laughed. “You need not concern yourself with me, madame, for I am well past the marrying age. It is Phoebe who will attract all the admirers.”
Mrs. Broadgirdle nodded curtly, apparently mollified now that the monumental task of finding a husband for Prudence no longer weighed upon her shoulders. Although she thought herself well past caring about such nonsense, Prudence was surprised to feel a dull pain at being considered so unappealing. But then Phoebe began to chatter about the sights, and her own brief blue devils disappeared in the glow of her sister’s delight.
Although the chaperone proclaimed Hugh Lancaster’s residence to be hardly fashionable, Prudence found nothing lacking in the small town house. The neighborhood was neat and quiet, the accommodations were quite spacious, to her mind, and the manservant who directed them to the drawing room was suitably polite.
Upon entering, Prudence looked around curiously. The furniture was sparse but handsome, the setting tasteful. Even Mrs. Broadgirdle could find no fault with the interior, though Prudence’s writer’s imagination deemed the place rather dull. There were none of the paintings and ornaments that crowded their own little cottage, making it homey and welcoming. However, bachelor establishments might well strive for another atmosphere entirely, Prudence realized, so she withheld her judgment.
“My dear cousins! What a pleasure to meet you!” Prudence turned to see Hugh Lancaster, and relief washed through her. Although they had corresponded sporadically since Grandmama’s death, Prudence had not been quite sure what to expect, and a part of her had dreaded that Hugh might be a copy of Mrs. Broadgirdle, wizened and bitter.
He was not. Hugh was much younger than she had imagined, not too many years older than herself, she guessed, with a hearty voice that welcomed them nicely. He had the Lancaster look about him, with blond hair nearly as bright as Phoebe’s, but beginning to recede from his forehead. His blue eyes were a different shade from Phoebe’s, yet, really, he looked more her sister’s sibling than she did—in a masculine way, of course.
“Prudence!” he said, moving unerringly toward her. “I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed your letters. When one has so few family, those left to him become doubly precious.”
Smiling, Prudence murmured her thanks and introduced her cousin to Phoebe and Mrs. Broadgirdle. He seemed well pleased with the sharp-faced woman, and again evinced his concern that they have adequate supervision in town.
“I am afraid I am not at all proud of much of what goes on here in London,” he said, with a saddened expression. “And I would protect you as best I can from those unsavory elements”
Phoebe looked at him with wide-eyed wonder, while Mrs. Broadgirdle nodded sagely. Good heavens, could it be that the woman actually liked someone? Prudence wondered why she did not feel heartened to find that that someone was Cousin Hugh.
“Yes, even in Cornwall, we have heard of some of the dreadful conditions among the poor,” Prudence commented.
Hugh, who had been studying Phoebe contentedly,
