have some wonderful sites to recommend us here along the coast, the abbey for one. Living in its shadow for so many years, we have grown quite curious about it. You must tell us all about it.”
Mr. Penhurst looked decidedly uncomfortable.
“Oh, Prudence!” Phoebe scolded. “Why you are so interested in that horrid place, I will never know. I do not see how you can bear to stay there, Mr. Penhurst. Why, it must be ghastly!”
Mr. Penhurst smiled thinly while Prudence sent Phoebe a speaking look of reproach. Not only was Phoebe undermining her hopes, her sister was being rude, as well.
“Nonsense, Phoebe, the place is positively fascinating,” Prudence argued. “Why, the history of your own ancestors, the Ravenscars, is full of intriguing stories,” she began, turning toward Penhurst.
At the mention of the family title, their guest paled visibly. “I am afraid I don’t know much about the old place. I am quite in agreement with your sister—a rather odious building, actually. Cold and damp, and not at all up to the state I am accustomed to. The rooms I had in London were much more comfortable.”
“Oh, London!” Phoebe said, clapping her hands with delight. “Do tell us of town doings.”
Regaining some of his composure, Penhurst smiled and began a discourse that was, for the most part, amusing, and he slipped only once in a while into unseemly cant. If he were any other gentleman, Prudence would have been quite content to watch him entertain Phoebe, but he was a Penhurst, and she was intent upon garnering an invitation to the abbey.
“More tea?” she asked, interrupting, and, having done so, steered once more toward her goal. “How are you situated for servants at Wolfinger? I would imagine it difficult to get good help there. There are so many silly rumors about it, and the locals are nothing if not superstitious.”
Penhurst looked as if he might choke, then managed a healthy swallow. “Actually, I believe both the housekeeper and butler have been kept on retainer.”
“Oh?” Prudence asked, with interest. “The servants are kept at the ready, then? Does your brother plan to visit sometime, too? I would dearly love to meet him.”
Penhurst dropped his spoon. “I am sure I am not aware of…the earl’s plans. Now, if you will excuse me, ladies, I really must go. It has been delightful, to be sure.” He stood, and Prudence saw Phoebe shoot her an accusing look.
“Oh, surely, you do not have to leave so soon, Mr. Penhurst?” Prudence asked. She tried her best to salvage the situation, but to no avail. Despite both her and Phoebe’s efforts, young Penhurst could not be moved, and they were forced to submit graciously to his wishes.
While Phoebe saw their guest to the door, Prudence removed her spectacles and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Drat!” she whispered to herself as she put the glasses back on. “And double drat!” Leaning back in her chair, she glanced toward the window, where one of Wolfinger’s towers could be seen rising in the distance. Young Penhurst’s visit had been an unqualified disappointment, for she was no closer to viewing his residence now than she had ever been.
Why, he would not even talk about the place! Crossing her arms, Prudence chewed absently on a finger while she contemplated young Penhurst’s extraordinary behavior. Whenever she had mentioned Ravenscar or the family’s ancestral home, the boy had been most uncomfortable, most uncomfortable indeed.
It was very peculiar, Prudence decided, growing heartened once more. Perhaps the afternoon had not been a total loss, after all, for if she was not mistaken, whatever mysteries Wolfinger harbored still had the power to discompose a rich young dandy like the Honorable James Penhurst.
Why did her questions so upset him? Was there something that the Penhursts did not wish outsiders to see at the abbey? Already, her writer’s mind was leaping ahead to its own conclusions, and Prudence felt eager anticipation replace the abject disappointment within her breast.
Oh, my, she thought giddily. This was turning out even better than she had hoped!
Prudence became more determined than ever to seek out the abbey’s secrets. Penhurst’s sudden visit was odd, very odd indeed, for he seemed to despise Wolfinger. He was a dandy who described London with enthusiasm, and yet he was staying in an isolated part of Cornwall with little entertainment other than that offered by a small fishing village and some local gentry, whom, by all accounts, he had made little attempt to contact. What, then, had brought him to the family seat? It was a puzzle worthy of Prudence’s investigative skills, and she latched on to it eagerly.
Between unsuccessful bouts at her writing desk, Prudence pondered the mystery and how to delve further into it. She was deep in contemplation two days later when Mrs. Bates arrived suddenly. Since Phoebe was out walking, Prudence was left to deal with the unexpected and not very welcome guest.
Her annoyance at the interruption was soon compounded, for it became apparent that Mrs. Bates, who considered herself one of the area’s leading social arbiters, had not received a visit from Penhurst. Nor was she pleased that the Lancaster sisters had been so favored, when she had not.
“My dear Prudence,” Mrs. Bates began, once they had settled themselves down with some tea and Cook’s seed biscuits. “I am afraid that I am here today not simply for a pleasant visit.”
“Oh?” Prudence was not surprised, for she would not describe any of Mrs. Bates’s visits as pleasant.
“Yes. I have heard some distressing news—so distressing that I can hardly countenance it.”
“Oh?” Prudence said again. Since Mrs. Bates seemed to be distressed quite often, Prudence could not summon up any concern for the matron. She listened with all appearance of attention, while her mind wandered back to her work.
“Yes,” Mrs. Bates replied with a frown. She settled her rather large bulk back in her chair, her voluminous hat nodding in time with her double chins. “It has come to my ears that you have entertained a single gentleman here at the cottage, unchaperoned!”
Prudence thought back over the past few days. She remembered that Clarence Fitzwater had been to the house, mending the fence for them, but good old Clarence, of plain farmer’s stock, would surely bristle at being labeled a gentleman. The vicar had been by earlier in the week, just at suppertime, forcing them to feed him, but the vicar was well-known for his habit of inviting himself for meals everywhere in the parish.
The only other visitor had been Phoebe’s young man. “Do you mean Penhurst?” Prudence asked, nonplussed.
“Of course I mean the Honorable James Penhurst, younger brother to the earl of Ravenscar!” Mrs. Bates said with a huff. “Surely you have not entertained any other single gentlemen of late?”
“Well—” Prudence began, but she was cut off by a noise of disapproval from the matron.
“Really, Prudence, I am quite shocked to hear you admit to it so readily!”
“Well, I—” Prudence tried again, but her next words were quickly trampled by the formidable Mrs. Bates.
“It is time someone took you two girls in hand, I must say.
