The Lady in Disguise

Chapter Three (part 1)

Emilia adjusted the load of clothes against her as she opened the bedchamber door. Most of it was dry enough to pack, but the toes of the stockings were still a bit wet. Perhaps she could dry them by pressing them with a hot iron before...

"Aha!"

Emilia started, dropping everything.

Prudence Crewe fell back on the bed, laughing uproariously. "I couldn't resist. I heard you coming down the hall and thought it would be so funny if—"

"If I wrinkled all your clothes?" Emilia droned, picking up her load. "Wouldn't expect you to care about such a thing," she muttered.

"What?"

Emilia put her load on the bed, then her hands on her hips, not saying what she had nor what she wished to. "I would expect you and your sister find it very amusin'," she said instead in her most formidable tone, possibly to rival Mrs. Douglass or even Cook, "but I don't find it at all funny so—"

"You would if you'd seen it," Prudence Crewe insisted. "You jumped at least a foot high!"

"I'm sure I didn't, but enough about that." Obviously the girl could exaggerate apace with Charity. She pulled Prudence to stand, tutting, "What have ye done to this poor dress?" She noted the brown morning dress that Prudence had been wearing long past morning, locked up in the attics and painting the day away. The apron hadn't protected it well.

"Oh! Does it show? I thought it might not, being dark ocher and the dress being... not that far from it. It was just a little splash here and there. Nothing to be concerned about. I can just use this dress when I paint."

"Like most of your dresses," Emilia muttered, turning Miss Prudence around. It was mostly the cuffs that had been assaulted. "Let me get this off and we'll see if it concerns me." Maybe it was nothing to be concerned about for Prudence, but it was an ongoing concern for Emilia. Most of the dresses Miss Crewe owned had been dotted with enough little splashes, here and there, that they weren't fit for company. It was always down to Emilia to save them somehow.

As Miss Prudence stepped out of the latest, Emilia could see the ocher went halfway up one sleeve. "I suppose I could shorten the sleeves on this one," Emilia sighed.

"Yes. That would do nicely," Prudence said absently. "I suppose you heard the whole hullabaloo."

Emilia contained her ire. She really did miss Charity. She might have been almost as careless about dresses as her sister at times, but at least she was much more apologetic about it. "I haven't. I've been too busy getting your mother's trunks ready for Cambridgeshire before I finish yours."

"So you haven't heard at all? Mother isn't going now."

Emilia gaped at her, nearly dropping her nightclothes. "What? But I just finished—"

"I was quite annoyed, too. I thought this would mean I wouldn't have to go either, but that doesn't seem to be how things are working out," Prudence sighed. "You can step out. I can finish the rest if you want to—"

"If I want to pick all your clothes up off the floor later? Thanks all the same, but I'll stay."

Prudence huffed. "I meant if you wanted to do Mama's trunks over. And I don't toss all my things on the floor."

"Just most of them," Emilia mumbled to herself, turning Prudence around and starting on her stays.

"What?"

"Nothing." Emilia cleared her throat. "So your mother isn't going to the house party? I just finished packin' her best gowns and slippers."

"I suppose you shall have to exchange those for boots and aprons," Prudence said, shrugging off her shift. "She's going to Cheshire. Grandfather has fallen ill. She received a letter from Uncle Victor. And you know how things are with him and Grandfather, so things must be dire... or do you?"