Page 87 of Indecent
“I met Judith,” Prudence said. “And Esther. They came to the wedding.”
Both Flora and Minerva riveted their attention to Prudence. “They were in London?” Flora asked, sounding jealous.
“Yes,” Prudence responded. “I’m not sure why. They just happened to be there.”
“Right, because the wedding was hastily planned.” Flora narrowed her eyes at Prudence’s belly. “Are you carrying?”
Prudence nearly choked on the bite of roll she’d just chewed.
“Don’t be rude, Flora,” Minerva snapped. “What does it matter anyway?” She looked back to Prudence. “Judith and Esther don’t like us. That’s why they live in Bath. And they refuse to visit.”
“Esther is from our sister-in-law’s side of the family—she’s an outsider,” Flora explained with a hint of disdain. “Judith is more like that side instead of ours.”
Prudence tried to make sense of Esther’s relationship. If Flora and Minerva were Bennet’s grandfather’s sisters, Esther must be his grandmother’s sister? She felt a bit like someone stumbling around in the dark without a candle. “So Judith doesn’t have fits of pique?”
Minerva and Flora exchanged looks and burst into laughter. After a moment, Minerva answered. “She has fits of superiority.”
“I see.” Prudence thought she could imagine that just from the short time she’d spent with Bennet’s aunt, but preferred to give the woman the benefit of the doubt. “And which side of the family is Bennet more like?”
“Oh, our side, certainly!” Flora exclaimed.
“Most definitely,” Minerva agreed. “He’s a St. James to his very bones.” She seemed quite proud of that, and now Prudence was more curious than ever.
“Ah, good morning. I see you’ve met my great-aunts.” Bennet stood in the doorway, his expression slightly pained.
“Your bride is delightful,” Flora said, rising. She went about collecting her newspapers into a messy pile, then swept them up close to her chest. “I’ll be in the library.”
Bennet moved into the breakfast room so she could depart.
Minerva stood and plucked up one more nut, feeding it to George in her apron pocket. “I need to take George outside for a runabout. See you later, Prudence!” She wiggled her fingers in a wave and sailed through the doorway.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to properly introduce you,” Bennet said. “I’m afraid I had urgent business to attend to, now that I have some money, thanks to your cousins.”
“Do you still have money, or is it all gone?”
He grimaced. “Much of it is spoken for, I’m afraid. But I did reserve a portion for a sound investment. I promise our future will be brighter than our present.”
Prudence hated that he was so stressed by the lack of funds. “Was it hard to sell so much of the furnishings?” she asked gently.
Bennet pulled out the chair next to hers at the small rectangular table and turned it toward her before sitting down. “Not as hard as having to tell debtors I can’t pay them. Or dealing with people who think this deficit is my fault and will no longer extend me credit. It’s frustrating, but it is the reality I must navigate.” He sounded completely resigned, but not sad. “How did you find my great-aunts?” Now he sounded a bit apprehensive.
Prudence turned on her seat to face him. “They were lovely, squabbling and all.” She decided not to mention Flora’s query as to whether she was expecting a child.
“Yes, I’m afraid they are still as sisterly as ever, but then they’ve lived together their whole lives.”
“Did they choose not to wed or—” Prudence shook her head. “Never mind, that’s not a question you need to answer.” She realized none of the women she’d met from his family had married.
“I don’t know that they chose that, but you’d have to ask them for certain,” he said. “I hope you didn’t mind their eccentricities.” His pained expression returned.
“Do you mean George the squirrel or the newspapers everywhere?”
He wiped his hand over his forehead, massaging it slightly. “I hope Flora wasn’t obnoxious. She can get carried away with her gossip.”
“She asked if I was really a companion.”
His mouth twisted. “I’m sorry if she made you uncomfortable.” He leaned forward and took her hand.
“What makes me uncomfortable is the feeling that you’re hiding something from me. The truth about Cousin Frances, perhaps?”
