Prudence offered the words that Rosanna couldn’t quite bring herself to say. “You haven’t been ‘in’ sorts since last year.”
“That debacle,” said Rosanna with a sigh.
“Stop that this instant,” said Prudence with a frown. “I will not sit here and listen to you flagellate yourself once more about what has passed. You made a mistake, and you have worked hard to redeem yourself. Even if I hadn’t forgiven you after your first apology all those months ago, I would’ve done so a dozen times by now. We all have shameful moments in our lives, and it isn’t helpful to fixate on them.”
Rosanna cuddled Nell close and turned back to the window. “And so I ought to simply forget it?”
“Of course not.”
That stark declaration had her spinning around to face her sister once more. Prudence met Rosanna’s furrowed brows with an arched one.
“What has happened inspired you to do better, Rosanna. And that is a good thing. Though I have always loved you and counted you my dearest friend, I will admit you were a tad spoiled and self-focused.” Prudence paused and gave Rosanna a narrowed look. “Though not nearly as much as you seem to think you were, and it was a miracle you weren’t far worse given how much our parents indulged you.”
Expression softening once more, she continued, “But you have grown so much in the past months, and to forget the moment that inspired that change of heart would only undo all your growth. But shaming yourself constantly even after you’ve been forgiven isn’t good.”
And that was sound advice if Rosanna knew how to use it.
Nell wriggled and tensed, her hands clenching anything they could grasp as she drew in a breath and let out a shrill cry. Rosanna bounced her, cooing all the sweet nonsense babes usually liked to hear, but Nell arched her back, pushing away as though even she could not stand Rosanna Leigh. It was a silly thought, but her heart was pierced by it, and Rosanna redoubled her efforts, but Nell was having none of it, squawking and squirming until it was clear that this was no passing mood.
Prudence rose to her feet and came to her side, reaching for the child, and Rosanna fought against the impulse to step away. There was no point in fighting it or ignoring the fact that she was a useless creature; rocking a child while her makeshift mama rested for an hour was not some grand herculean effort, yet Rosanna couldn’t manage even that.
“What is that expression?” asked Prudence, her brows pinching as she took Nell into her arms and stepped away, studying her sister’s face.
“It is nothing.”
But Prudence’s eyes merely narrowed.
Rosanna sighed. “I cannot seem to find my footing in my life anymore. Despite my best efforts, everything goes awry, and I feel like I am forever failing.”
“Goodness, that is quite a lot for one expression,” said Prudence, nodding towards the sofa. The sisters took their seats, settling into the cushions while she shifted Nell into the crook of her arm. The little one stared up at the ceiling as though it held all the marvels of the universe, and Rosanna couldn’t help but smile at the look of unadulterated joy.
With a few promptings, Rosanna unburdened her heart, focusing on the charitable visits she completed a fortnight ago, for it was the most obvious example. With a glaring omission, of course. There was no need to mention Mr. Malcolm, for though he’d been there, he was not central in her heartbreak at present. The story unfolded, leading down other avenues—many of which had become familiar paths over the past year.
Rosanna couldn’t stop the words as they flowed; they sprang from her like a font, releasing into the world with abandon. Mama certainly didn’t care to listen. Her other sisters couldn’t or wouldn’t empathize. Papa rarely bothered to stir himself from his study to notice anything. But Prudence sat silent, rocking Nell and watching Rosanna, her gaze filled with that large heart of hers.
Seeing her with the babe, seated on her own sofa in her own parlor, Rosanna knew Prudence belonged in this simple and worn little home. This was her place in the world. Unfortunately, Rosanna’s heart ached for the days when her place was at her sister’s side. It was a selfish thought, and she cast it aside, simply reveling in the fact that in the here and now, she had unfettered access to Prudence Humphreys.
And all the while, Prudence merely listened, giving her sister her full attention whilst allowing Rosanna to say all the things she was unable to say in any other company or setting. Only when the words finally slowed did Prudence speak.
“Might I ask you who Mr. Malcolm is?”
“Pardon?” Rosanna straightened, her eyelashes fluttering as she searched for a reply. Before she could, Prudence clarified.
“You mentioned him a few times, and I am not familiar with the gentleman.”
“I did?” Scouring her thoughts, she tried to think of when she might’ve done so, but did it matter? Prudence hadn’t plucked the name from thin air, so clearly she had. And was it any wonder? The fellow was a constant presence in her thoughts.
With narrowed eyes, Prudence said, “You did.”
“He isn’t a gentleman but a groom. He was kind enough to aid me when I was stuck and couldn’t free the gig.” But for all that the first sentence was entirely correct, the words tasted sour on her tongue. True, Mr. Malcolm was not a gentleman in the narrow sense of the word, but he had the bearing of one and comported himself as such. The fellow was truly an enigma.
Prudence gave a vague noise that seemed to accept that answer, but there was a glint of speculation in her gaze that gave Rosanna pause. Did she guess what was happening? But then, Rosanna did not know precisely what that was in the first place. How many times would she meet with Mr. Malcolm? What good did it do to tempt herself with what couldn’t be?
Those thoughts drew Rosanna back into a pensive silence—until Prudence cleared her throat with a raised brow.
Cheeks blazing once more, Rosanna hurried to distract her sister. “I do not know what to do with myself. I try again and again to do more than stand about ballrooms and parlors, filling the air with nothing but noise, but every effort seems to fall short. I cannot do anything right.”
“That is quite the sweeping statement.”
