It was a mystery that had evaded Emilia for some time; Prudence and her daytime outings for which she didn't need the company of a maid. It had also frustrated Charity time and again, because Prudence always had an excuse, but they never seemed to satisfy her sister. They didn't satisfy Emilia either. But when she finally weighed her loyalties and her duties and brought her concerns to Lady Dartmore, the older woman had assured her it was nothing to be concerned about. But that was in the day. At night was another matter.

How many times had Emilia dressed her mistress for the theater or an exhibition that her brother was escorting her to? More than half a dozen this last season alone. And how many had she actually attended? Now, she didn't know.

She tried to tell herself it didn't matter, that it wasn't her concern, but if she were to keep house for the Crewe's -- something she hadn't decided yet -- shouldn't she know?

Prudence sputtered at her brother, "Wh— wha... I... Do I ask you where you go? Why do you need to know everything I do?"

"You ask me quite a lot, actually," Mr. Crewe pointed out.

"Because I'm the eldest and someone needs to—"

"But I suppose you're right," her brother drawled with a smile. "I don't need to know. But do you think Aunt Muriel would like to know? Or Mama?"

Prudence was saved from answering by a rap from outside before the door opened. 

"Your valise, Mr. Crewe," Carter grunted, looking as pleasant as ever.

"Good man." Mr. Crewe clambered over his sister. "So we agree." He turned as he hopped down, taking his bag and pressing something into Carter's hand. "You don't tell and I don't tell and I'll see you in a fortnight."

"This is ridiculous," Prudence huffed loudly. "You can't just—"

"Enjoy your party!"

And he was gone.

Prudence sat gaping at Carter, who didn't seem abashed at all. "Five miles to Sculthorpe," he barked, reaching for the door.

Emilia lifted a hand. "Er... Mr. Carter? Do ye suppose we could refre—"

He shut the door before she could finish. Miss Prudence looked so annoyed, she rather doubted she could convince her to stop and change dresses now. Her best hope was getting her inside and shown to her rooms before anyone could see.

"Can you believe him?"

Emilia huffed, "I'm a bit miffed as well... or as much as a person can be at someone so... intimidating." 

"No, not Carter. Ernie! This is blackmail and I won't stand for it," Prudence hissed, still fuming at her absent brother, "If he thinks that one night is enough compared to all the things I have stored up over the years—"

"But it wasn't just one night," Emilia couldn't help saying. "He said there were others."

"He thinks there were others. He doesn't know anything."

"Her Grace always tells me not to be concerned with your visiting on yer own in the daytime. But if you're going about alone at night—"

"I'm not on my own. Carter is with me and he's very intimidating, as you said," Prudence cut in. "There is no reason for you nor anyone to be concerned, I promise."

Emilia quite strongly disagreed. Her job had been in some danger with Miss Charity's antics, as her accomplice, however little choice she had in the matter. That situation might have worked out well for all involved, but now... If Miss Prudence was now putting herself at risk, no matter how unwitting Emilia's complicity, it might be seen as a pattern of slipshod work. She'd be seen as unable to control her charges at all. Would she be considered as a housekeeper then? She couldn't risk it. "Miss Crewe, for you to go out at night, if Lady Dartmore doesn't know—"

"We shall be there soon, I think," Prudence cut in with a smile. "Perhaps I'll let you use those dreaded curling tongs on me before supper," she said in a rush.

Emilia stared at her shrewdly, even more suspicious with this sudden compliance. "I won't be put off the subject. I think--"

"I think you should choose my dress for supper." Prudence smiled again. "I'm just helpless about it."

Emilia stared at the girl. She'd never suggested such a thing. Before every ball or party, this had been an ongoing battle. For Miss Prudence to just concede now was... Emilia straightened up in her seat. Perhaps she could pick her battles -- for the moment. "No chemisette?"

Prudence looked like she might argue, but finally nodded.

Emilia nodded as well, satisfied for now. They had two weeks here. Whatever Miss Prudence's secret doings were, she might finally get it all out of her... that or she might be dealing with a very docile mistress. She supposed, either way, things were looking up.

Of course, the very idea of that flew away when the carriage stopped in the circular drive, along with any notion of Prudence slipping into the house quietly. The front door was open, but no one was attending it. She hoped that meant no one was hearing her mistress shout.

"But where is it?" Miss Prudence demanded.

"It's right there," Carter grunted, pointing to the trunk with Emilia's meager bags on top of it.

"Yes, that's the one with my clothes," Prudence said, waving a hand at it. "I don't care about that one."

Emilia rolled her eyes, despite her headache. Of course Prudence didn't care about that one.

"The one with my paints, my books!"

"Aye, this one," he pulled the large bag from the carriage. "There ye are, Miss."

"No, it was a trunk. " She looked quite frantic. "Was it stolen? Did it fall off? Please don't tell me—"

"I don't recall another trunk," Carter said, rather tight-lipped.

"But it was in the drive, before we left. I saw Mama instructing you to..." She trailed off on a gasp. "Carter, did she tell you to...leave it?"

To Emilia's everlasting surprise, the large man looked suddenly chastened, staring at the ground.

"And you did it?"

Carter cleared his throat. "I'd best find someone to bring these in."

"Oh, no you don't!" Prudence was hard on his heels as he strode around the side of the house. "Carter? Carter! I cannot believe you would take her part over mine!"

"I ain't takin' no one's part," he growled, trying to run away. "It was an honest mist—"

"I'd bet Aunt Muriel put you up to it as well. The two of them have been thick as thieves lately and now they've drawn you into their wretched plots, but I shall not..."

Emilia was left standing in the drive as her voice faded, not quite sure what to do with herself. She'd heard whispers that this house party was no merry jaunt, but was supposed to be something of a lesson for Miss Prudence. It was obvious Lady Crewe wanted it to be hard lesson, indeed, if she was going to deprive her daughter of her paints and her books. Yet Emilia couldn't feel too much sympathy. It was only two weeks. Surely, Miss Crewe could survive it and Emilia would certainly relish a little time without a paint stain to scrub out.

She found herself smiling as she turned to the house, then let out a laugh. Sculthorpe Abbey looked like an illustration inside one of those Gothic romances Mrs. Douglass and Lady Crewe favored. Miss Prudence might be even more frustrated at the absence of her paints with such a sight.

Emilia half-expected to see a ghost in every window, gargoyles scowling along the roof, a dreadful hell-beast roaring out the front door... except that last was happening.

She took a step back, then several more, as a mass of teeth and fur barreled its way toward her. She had some notion of running away before the backs of her knees hit the trunk and the rest of her toppled over to meet the ground behind it. She found the wind knocked out of her, and no wonder! The beast was upon her. It perched there, its paws on her chest, its mop of hair covering its eyes, but not obscuring its mouth, which let out a yip before licking her cheeks, her forehead, her nose.

If she could breathe, she would laugh. Fearsome hell-beast indeed!

"How did he get in... or out?" she heard one very gruff voice say.

"I don't know, Sir," another frantic voice called out. "You walked in and he got past me before I could— Good God! He's attacking a guest!"

Emilia tried to protest, not only that she wasn't a guest, but that she wasn't being attacked. Though the beast did have a certain unpleasant smell, he was very sweet. She could barely choke out a word with the way she'd hit the ground, but she certainly wouldn't blame this sweet boy. It was really her own silliness, being frightened of such a creature, that had her with her back in the drive and her feet up on Miss Prudence's trunk. She lifted a hand to pet the dog, perhaps inform him she didn't need any more of his kisses at the moment, but he was gone.

She looked to the side to see the poor dear struggling against a rope. "I've got him now," a man in livery said as the dog yelped over him.

It was truly unfair. He was only being friendly. She tried to lift herself up, but with her legs still over a trunk, she only fell backward again.

"It's the Dartmore carriage, Sir," she heard another voice say lowly. "Miss Prudence Crewe."

Yes, she hoped Miss Prudence was here to help her defend the poor dog. She started to crawl back so she could get to her feet, but a face appeared above her, holding out a hand -- a rather handsome face.

She was rather taken aback, not just because the face was comely, but because the hand was not gloved and the arm wasn't in livery.

If this was their host, she'd rather thought he'd be addressing Miss Prudence first, not dealing with her silly mishap. Still, she took his hand and let him pull her up, over the trunks and to her feet.

"I'm very sorry no one was here to greet you," the man said.

She glanced around, seeing Miss Prudence wasn't about. She tried to tell him he needn't apologize to her, but her throat still felt constricted. She finally smiled and choked out, "Well, the dog did try."

"I apologize for him. He's a menace," the man growled, looking her over. "He's no longer satisfied with tearing up the gardens. Now it seems he's starting on the guests."

"It's no bother, really." She brushed herself off, chancing a glance at him. If this was Pembroke, she couldn't imagine what Prudence's complaint with him was, with his russet hair and rather startling blue eyes. She found it rather hard to look away from him, but she did. 

It wouldn't reflect well on Miss Crewe for her to stand about gawking at her betters.

Still, she did find her hand moving to the curls outside her bonnet and was horrified to feel the dratted spectacles, though she tried to tell herself it didn't matter how she looked.

"Sir, I swear, we only turned away for a moment," the other man said, still struggling with the yelping dog, who'd now got some of the rope in his teeth and was pulling it enthusiastically. "I never thought he would hurt anyone."

"Hurt?" Emilia gasped. "He certainly didn't hurt me," she assured the servant. "I-I've never been welcomed so warmly." She turned what she hoped was a reassuring smile at Mr. Pembroke... Lord Pembroke? Or was it Sir?

He didn't smile back, looking her over, perhaps for injuries. "Best take him to the well and toss him in before he gives anyone else a warm welcome."

Emilia gaped at the man. "What a terrible thing to—"

He held up a hand. "No, you're quite right. It would spoil the water."

Well, now she saw what Prudence's complaint might be.

Luckily for the dog, he seemed to get enough pull on the rope to yank it out of the footman's hands, giving a triumphant bark as he ran off.

The footman gave chase as the man next to her sighed. "I suppose we'll drown him next time."

Emilia gasped. Whether he was her better or not, she wouldn't stand for that kind of talk. "You shouldn't have a dog if that's the way you think—"

"He's not my dog, just a creature sent to torture me." He gestured to the pup, now running back and forth across the green, the footman still trying to grasp that rope. "But you're correct. Drowning won't do. He can probably swim. Perhaps I can get him into the village stocks or—"

"That's not what I meant."

"Very well, Miss Crewe." He finally let out a gruff laugh. "I'm obviously not going to do any of that... yet."

She forgot her ire for a moment. "You are mistaken, Mr... Lor..." She faltered, still not sure how to address him. Really, this sort of thing was usually down to Miss Prudence.

"Oh, is that where the wretched thing ran off to!" An older woman came marching out the door now, lace cap fluttering. "Really, something must be done. He gave Miss Poole's companion such a fright, the poor dear! And Lady Adele's chaperon is beside herself!"

"Nothing to what he's done to Miss Crewe," the man next to her muttered.

Emilia had to defend the poor thing. "But really, he didn't... That is to say, he knocked into me, but I'm... See, actually, I'm not Miss—"

"Oh, Miss Crewe! I am so very sorry. Are you hurt?" The older woman rushed to her, wringing her hands. "It's so lovely to meet you at last. Your aunt declares you indispensable and I'm sure she'd never forgive me if you came to harm."

"But I'm not—"

"I assure you this is not the normal way of things," the woman babbled on merrily. "But it seems we've been set upon by a wild beast!"

It was then that Miss Prudence finally came around the side of the house, muttering to herself and glaring at the ground while heading straight for Emilia. "Well, here's a to-do. Carter won't go back for the other trunk even though I offered— oh!" She stilled, finally taking in the scene in the driveway. "I beg your pardon."

"There's been a misunderstandin'," Emilia whispered.

"Indeed there has," Prudence hissed. "How am I supposed to get anything done without that trunk?"

Emilia gripped her arm. "No, I mean—"

"Is this where everyone's gone?" Yet another person joined their strange little party, another man, perhaps not as well-dressed as the one still at her side, nor quite as handsome, but he had a more ready smile. "If we're going to play outside, I think cricket would be much more suited to us than... dog-catching." He gestured to the footman, still trying and failing to get that rope. "Looks like a losing game."

"Oh, Tony. Please don't joke," the older woman moaned. "Poor Miss Crewe has been frightened out of her wits."

Prudence chuckled slightly. "What?"

The one she called Tony laughed. "Was it the dog? Or Byrne." He gestured to the man beside Emilia. "He is quite an intimidating figure."

"The dog is not the problem," Emilia found herself muttering, glancing between the two men. 

So the man next to her was the infamous Mr. Byrne. The only thing Emilia knew of him was that Prudence hadn't met him, but disapproved of him. Then again, that could be said of most men, according to Prudence. Still, Emilia quite agreed so far. After his supposed jokes about the poor dog, she no longer thought him handsome at all... not that she'd thought so in the first place.

So the new gentleman must be Pembroke. She was quite relieved. He seemed civil enough. And he could finally clear up this mess.

"My dear Miss Crewe." Pembroke moved toward them. "You look as lovely as I remember."

Emilia glanced at Prudence, willing her not to scoff or roll her eyes. She really was terrible at accepting compliments. Prudence was doing neither. She wasn't even replying. In fact her eyes widened as something squeezed Emilia's hand.

Emilia glanced down to find Pembroke grasping her gloved hand, even leaning over to kiss it.

"When did we last meet?" he said as he straightened, looking at her. "It must be over a year. I was very sorry to miss you this season, but as you can see," he gestured to the house behind him, "we've been very busy preparing for this party and, as you have now witnessed, chasing wild animals." He laughed again. "You must allow me to escort you around as soon as you've settled and met the others. I'd love to personally show you everything."

Emilia could only blink, looking to one side at Mr. Byrne, who was peering at her oddly, then glancing over the older woman and Pembroke, both with eager smiles, then to Prudence, who looked nearly purple, obviously holding in a laugh.

Emilia scowled at her, nodding to the others. Someone had to correct them and they would surely not appreciate a servant doing so.

Miss Prudence finally recovered and cleared her throat. "Sir Anthony, I beg your pardon," she grasped Emilia's arm and stepped forward, "but my mistress is overcome. It was a long journey and she must have her rest."

"Oh, yes, of course!" The older woman stepped forward, hands fluttering before she took Emilia's arm, marching her into the house. "Your room is ready, but I didn't think to have a bath sent. Silly me. I'll do that before you can blink and Tony, dear, do have someone see to her things and..."

As the woman babbled on, Emilia twisted around to gape at Prudence... who didn't look sorry at all, hiding a smile as she followed them into the house, even clasping her hands demurely in front of her.

By the time they'd been deposited in a room, Prudence was insisting "her mistress" needed her solitude. "One of her headaches," she whispered.

Emilia couldn't find it in her to speak, but she also couldn't argue with that. Her headache was raging by now, as was the rest of her.

"Oh, how dreadful," the woman cooed. "I'll have a tonic sent up immediately, Miss... er..."

"Miss Finch... Ma'am." Prudence gave a hasty curtsy.

"If you like, I can have one of the maids show you to your room when you've seen to Miss Crewe."

"Thank you. Mrs. Baddeley, isn't it? That would be lovely. If you'll excuse us, she is quite unwell." Prudence gently shooed the older woman out before falling against the door, both hands covering her mouth, her eyes watering.

Emilia folded her arms, glaring at her, finally bursting out, "I'm glad you find this so amusing!"

"Not just amusing," Prudence managed over her laughter. "Amazing! And here I thought this would be a dull party."

TBC

******************

Dang it, Pru! You are almost as big a brat as Ernie right now!