The Countess and The Baron: Lady Prudence Baggington (The Nettlefold Chronicles Book 3) Read online

  A sign swung and creaked in the wind, announcing a tavern named the Broken Bridle. Prudence was not sure of the level of clientele that would be housed within, nor did she care. The patrons could not be more repugnant than her own husband. She pushed her way into the dark and dank hall and made her way to the barkeep.

  The burly man in a once white apron, polished the glasses that sat in a row on the counter. His face was mostly covered with a surplus of facial hair. Both his hair and his beard looked like they could have used a trim weeks ago. He grinned at her, and she felt somewhat at ease by his ready smile.

  “What can I help ya fer?” he grunted while replacing a glass and choosing another to shine. His eyes were on the glass.

  Again, Prudence noted that she was not worth the lingering stares that would follow her sisters every time they showed their faces outside of the manor. Once again, she thanked God for her plain features.

  She cleared her throat.

  “If you would be so kind,” she muttered hoarsely, cleared her throat again, and began anew. “If you would be so kind as to direct me toward Halthaven Abbey, I would be most grateful.”

  The man raised his gaze to look her over. Prudence stood under his appraisal from her bonnet to her toes with a nervous patience. Then, he gave one curt nod and turned his attention back to the glasses.

  “Gon’ be a nun, are ya?” he asked.

  As a married lady Prudence would never be allowed to take such vows against those she had already stated, not while her husband lived, but there was no way for this man to know that. Rather, she would give whatever excuse might kept her identity concealed until she arrived at her destination.

  “Yes, sir,” she whispered. “I wish with all my heart that I would be worthy to dwell with the holy sisters.” She lowered her head and did her best to give a modest and pious nod. Perhaps he often directed ladies toward the abbey. Lady Prudence wondered if her own sister had stood here all those years ago and made the same request.

  “You’ll not get there any time soon,” he revealed. “All this rain we’ve seen has got the throughway flooded. Bridge is washed out and no way across ‘cept on foot.”

  “Oh,” Lady Prudence felt deflated. She turned to glance out of the window and saw that the sun was already well in the sky. “If I were to walk could I arrive by nightfall?” she asked.

  The barkeep held one finger to the tip of his nose while he thought.

  “Perhaps ya should wait ‘til mornin’,” he offered.

  “I’d rather not wait another moment, if it can be helped,” she revealed. “If you think it can be done, please point me in the proper direction, and I shall go.”

  “I ought ter say no,” he shrugged, “but ya look like a sturdy enough gal for it. Ya got a strong pair of boots on them feet of yours?”

  Prudence shifted her feet beneath her gown. She was wearing her best walking boots in preparation for the journey but they were still made more for fashion than crossing the countryside. Another product of her London advice, she mused sadly.

  “Of course,” she lied. Lady Prudence did not care if she had to climb barefoot up a mountainside if it meant getting to the abbey before darkness fell upon her. She was road weary and ready to be free of her burdens, if that were at all possible.

  The man narrowed his eyes. For a moment she worried that he might call her bluff, but it seemed that he decided to allow her to make her own bed, if she so wished it.

  “Well,” he nodded, “my daughters are brawny girls so I learned not ta expect less from a woman. It’s not a trek for the weak but I see you’ll not be swayed.” He explained that she should follow the main road to the end of the village. Then, she should take the fork in the road to the left. Once she came to the bridge she’d have to find a more shallow place to ford, but the road led straight to the abbey if she just stayed upon it.

  “Don’ go to the right or you’ll end up in the baron’s wood,” he warned. “It’s mighty easy to get turned around in the woods. We might not find ya ‘till Michaelmas since we’ve no way ‘o knowin’ if you didna get to the Abbey, what with the road out and all.”

  She thanked the barkeep and offered him her last coin. The rugged man, who could scare the leather off a cow, let his shoulders droop as he looked upon her extended hand.

  “Keep it, miss,” he gave a soft grin. “If nothin’ else, give it to the sisters up where you’re goin’. They’ve done a world a good for this village. That’s to be sure.” Lady Prudence realized that there was more heart in him than met the eye. She folded her hand back around the last coin to her name, tears welling in her eyes at such a simple kindness.

  With a croaked word of thanks she left the tavern and made her way toward the edge of the village.

  For a moment, she almost felt a hope that her faith might be renewed in humanity. Then, she recalled why she had found herself in the tavern in the first place, and she cursed the world of men, mostly her father and her husband. Then she bit her tongue and asked forgiveness. She should not go to the holy sisters with a curse in her mouth.

  “If only you would take them both, Lord,” She prayed. “I do not wish harm upon them, for that would be ungodly. I only wish they were in Your Presence rather than mine. I am too weak to suffer them.”

  2

  Night did fall before Lady Prudence reached her destination. She had trudged along with a determination that she had not known she possessed, yet the time wasted finding a shallow place to cross the river had cost her precious hours.

  She had removed her boots and stockings, tossed her skirts over her shoulder, and still not managed to climb up the opposing bank without leaving herself drenched from waist to toe. The added weight of her dresses slowed her to the point where she even considered walking for a mile or two in only her undergarments until her skirts dried. Her sensibilities would not allow it, so she placed her boots back upon her feet and dragged the sodden folds through the mud behind her.

  When the light of the day began to fade she was thankful that the twinkle of candles in the windows of the abbey had come into view in the distance. That, and the ring of a bell that chimed every quarter of an hour kept her to the path, even when she was no longer certain that she was upon it.

  Her stomach growled with the memory of her last meal, a bit of bread and cheese that had been stolen from the kitchens before her escape from her husband’s home. The final morsel had been consumed shortly after she had begun to plod her way through the sodden trail away from the village. She prayed that the nuns might allow her a bite of something, anything, upon her arrival. The thought that she might have to wait until a communal morning meal made her groan in agony. Already, her head was beginning to ache and her stomach twisted and cried out.

  Lady Prudence was near delirium when she arrived at the steps of the abbey. She had been muttering nonsense into her bag for nigh on an hour, recalling the journey they had completed and how much better off life would be away from the earl.

  “May I help you?” a soft voice startled Lady Prudence from her reverie. She looked up into the soft, brown eyes of a frail looking nun who might have been the oldest person Lady Prudence had ever laid eyes upon.

  “Oh!” she gasped. “Umm… well…”

  Now that she was here, she knew not what to say. She snapped her bag shut with a little squeak. She thought for a long while about the best way to begin. Rather than pry, the nun simply stood and waited with silent understanding.

  All of a sudden, Lady Prudence fell to her knees in supplication. “I pray you,” she said.

  “Pray to God,” the nun said with a stern expression.

  Prudence, still kneeling, clutched at the nun’s grey habit. “Please, I’ve nowhere else to go,” she cried. “I do not know what to do.”

  The nun’s face softened as she bent down. “What is the matter my child?”

  The old woman crouched at her side and pulled Lady Prudence against her with surprising strength. Her fingers stroked Lady Prudence�
�s matted tresses and her cooed soft words of love and support. Lady Prudence wished that she could stop the world in this moment and live in it forever.

  She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up into the face of her savior. The woman had clear blue eyes, and laugh lines about her lips, but the rest of her face was covered by her wimple.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” Prudence whimpered.

  “What led you here?” the old nun asked.

  “My sister,” Prudence said. “I hope she is here.”

  “Your sister?”

  “Temperance!” Lady Prudence exclaimed. The prospect of her sister being so near made Prudence want to rush into the Abbey and call out for her sibling. “My sister,” she explained. “I need to see my sister.”

  The old woman narrowed her eyes, taking in all that Lady Prudence was and, perhaps, measuring her against her sister. Lady Prudence hoped not for there was no comparison. Temperance was the most beautiful of the Baggington sisters. In fact, before she had abandoned Nettlefold for the Abbey five years prior, Temperance had been the gem of the town.

  “I see,” was all that the nun said. She must have made some significant determination for she stood, set Lady Prudence upon her feet, and ushered her inside. After a moment, she spoke again. “I will speak with the Mother Abbess.”

  Lady Prudence wondered what the Mother Abbess would do. Would she allow her to stay?

  “May I take your things while you wait?” the nun said as she settled Lady Prudence before a simple fire in a gaping hearth.

  “No!” Lady Prudence exclaimed and clutched the bag to her breast. Then, she recalled her manners and softened her tone. “Thank you,” she amended. “I should like to keep it, if you don’t mind.”

  “As you wish,” the nun nodded and left the room on silent footsteps.

  Lady Prudence used the moment to evaluate her surroundings. She had been led into a bare room with little more than a writing desk and a pair of padded chairs. The walls were adorned with several paintings of the religious persuasion, but overall the room was bare.

  Despite the empty expanse, it was not cold. In fact, she felt at once at home. If it would not have been rude, she might have curled up in the opposite chair and drifted off to sleep. Instead, due to the ruined nature of her gown, she chose a spindly wooden piece that was worn to the point of comfort from ages of use.

  The door creaked open and another elderly, though not quite so old as the first, nun swept into the room with a grace that would befit The Queen.

  “What is your name, child?” she asked as she settled herself at the writing desk.

  “Prudence,” she said after some hesitation.

  “I am Sister Beatrice,” the nun explained, “Mother Abbess of Halthaven Abbey. Your claim to be Temperance’s sister would make you a Baggington, yet you have not identified yourself as such. What is your proper name?”

  Lady Prudence could see that, while the Mother Abbess seemed obliging enough at the moment, she would not put the question to her again.

  “I am Lady Fondleton,” she said with a heavy heart. “Wife to the Earl of Fondleton, Prudence Numbton, formerly Baggington.”

  “Thank you, Lady Fondleton,” Sister Beatrice replied. She folded her hands upon her lap and looked upon Lady Prudence with a firm expression. “The convent is no place for a married woman. Are you widowed?”

  “N-no,” Lady Prudence stammered. It would not do to admit to a member of the holy order that she had very much prayed for just such a thing. “I am here to…”

  “To see your sister,” the Mother Abbess nodded. “Yes, I am aware.”

  “May I?”

  “Temperance has some very important decisions to make.” Sister Beatrice seemed disinclined to allow it and Lady Prudence felt her hope sink into a puddle at her feet.

  “I know that her decision to join your convent has meant that she should forsake her previous life,” Lady Prudence could think of no way to convince the nun other than to beg, “but I have come here for sanctuary. Even as a nun she is my sister, though you might not see it that way…”

  “A nun?” Sister Beatrice raised one eyebrow. “When has your family last heard from Temperance?”

  Lady Prudence hung her head. “Not these past five years, since she left, though I cannot blame her.” The admission broke her heart.

  “Temperance has not yet joined our ranks,” the Mother Abbess revealed.

  “She hasn’t?” Lady Prudence was dumbfounded. Her sister had left home all those years ago with the vow that she would never marry, and never return. She would be a nun, she had sworn so. Though dozens of letters had been sent by all of the Baggingtons, Temperance had never responded. Prudence heart sank. “Is… is she still here?”

  “Oh yes,” Sister Beatrice replied with a smile and a laugh at her visitor’s clear relief. “She is a novice. Though it has taken her longer than most to take her vows, she has finally decided to make the ultimate commitment this coming spring. We are happy to have her as she has shown great promise these years in our care.”

  “Yes…” Lady Prudence knew not what else to do other than agree.

  “I suppose, as a novice, she might still receive a visit,” Sister Beatrice gave a solemn nod. “Though, I hope that you do not intend to sway her from her determination to devote her life to the Lord.”

  “Not at all,” Lady Prudence promised. “I swear to you that I come here in my own need. I have no intention of uprooting Temperance or her devotions.”

  “We do not swear, Lady Fondleton,” the Mother Abbess replied, “but I thank you for the truth of your words.”

  Sister Beatrice slipped from the room and left Lady Prudence once again to her silence. She did not know what to make of her reception. She had yet to be certain that she would be allowed to stay and every moment without that promise increased her fear.

  “Prudence!” a delicate voice echoed in the hall. The patter of slippered feet could be heard rushing through the hall.

  “Calm, my child,” Sister Beatrice’s cool voice came from behind.

  “Yes, Mother,” Lady Prudence heard her sister reply along with the slowing of her footsteps.

  Lady Temperance Baggington, the eldest and most beautiful of all the daughters, stepped into the room with a perfectly contained posture and expression. Her beautiful hair was contained under her wimple. Prudence could not help but wonder if the nuns had cut it all off. Temperance’s face was smooth and white, her lips pursed momentarily and then she broke into a smile, but that was the only indication that she was glad to see her sister. She kept herself still and sedate.

  “Lady Fondleton,” she said with a nod.

  “Please do not call me that,” Lady Prudence said with a huff of laughter.

  “Is it true that you have been wed?” Temperance approached her sibling and grasped her hands within her own. Her eyes sparkled with the excitement of seeing her sister, but she maintained her composure for the pair of watchful eyes that entered the room a moment later. “I ought to offer you my congratulations.”

  Lady Prudence knew not where to begin. She shook her head. “No. Do not congratulate me. There are no felicitations to be had,” she informed her sister. Prudence threw a glance towards the nuns. How could she speak here? “My marriage was not what I had hoped,” she explained.

  “Most unions are not,” Sister Beatrice replied.

  “It is more than that.” Lady Prudence widened her brown eyes and implored her sister to understand the truth without words. She could not dare to make her confession in front of such a pure soul as the Mother Abbess. In fact, she dared not say a word to anyone if it could be helped.

  “I beg you,” she cried. “Do not send me back.”

  “Lady Fondleton,” Sister Beatrice said with a sigh, “one cannot run from their responsibilities. A convent is not a place to hide from life.”

  Lady Prudence dared not say that, in her opinion, it was exactly the place that one went with the desire to
hide from life. That, of course, would get her nowhere. Instead, she remained silent and squeezed her sister’s hands, begging her to remember with her heart the language that they once shared.

  “Remember Father,” Prudence said.

  Temperance’s eyes widened and she tightened her grip on her sister’s hands.

  “If you might only give me a chance,” Prudence begged. “I promise that I will not be a burden.”

  “The convent is no place for a married woman,” the Mother Abbess repeated. “We have no power to keep you here against your husband’s will.”

  “He does not know where to find me,” Lady Prudence persisted.

  Temperance loosed her hands from her sister and turned to the nun “Reverend Mother,” Temperance said in a soft murmur that she must have learned in her time at the abbey, “I beg you to reconsider. Prudence has never been one for dramatics. I assure you, if she is seeking safe haven it is within reason. At least, surely she must spend the night.”

  “Still,” Sister Beatrice continued, “far be it from me to keep a gentleman, an earl no less, from his wife. The Abbey is not meant to withstand such things. I am sure the earl’s wrath would rain upon us. It is not within our power to hide you from him here.”

  “Please, Reverend Mother,” Prudence said.

  The Mother Abbess then turned to Lady Prudence. “Is he a hateful man?” she asked.

  “Hateful,” Lady Prudence thought on it for a long while. “I am not so certain that hateful is the word. Monster, is more like. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. A wolf is akin to a dog.” She spat bitterly.

  Sister Beatrice nodded.

  Lady Prudence felt as if she could not express enough the danger that her husband presented. This nun could have no idea of his plotting or manipulations. Even worse, the sick nature of his mind.

  “Jasper is different,” Lady Prudence said with grave sincerity. “He is unlike any other man, gentleman or no, that I have ever met. There is something… wrong about him.”