Chapter Twenty Seven.
During the days which followed Prudence strove continually to overcome her prejudices and adapt herself to Mrs Morgan’s ways. She tried, too, to blind herself to what she now realised for an unalterable fact, that her engagement was a mistake. She did not love Edward Morgan. She did not like his mother, nor his home, nor the life they led. Mrs Henry’s humorously sarcastic criticisms of the Morningside establishment did not annoy her. She was often amused by them, and allowed Mrs Henry to see it. Afterwards, removed from Mrs Henry’s influence, her conscience rebuked her for disloyalty.
She liked Mrs Henry on account of her brightness, and spent more time with her than old Mrs Morgan approved of. Mrs Henry kept open house for her bachelor friends, of whom she had a number, and she took a malicious pleasure in getting Prudence to help in the business of entertaining.
“You’ll meet these men at my dance,” she said. “I want you to know them first; it makes it so much more agreeable.”
Prudence thought so too. She failed to understand old Mrs Morgan’s objection. It was absurd to suppose that she must avoid all other male society on account of her engagement.
These brief lapses into an almost Bohemian gaiety under Mrs Henry’s chaperonage, made the Morningside household more noticeably dull. The evenings were particularly dreary. Mrs Morgan insisted upon playing patience after dinner, three-handed to include Prudence, and necessitating the use of three packs of cards which made for confusion in dealing. Prudence was dense in learning the game, and would have preferred to sit out, but was not allowed to; it was imperative that she should share in the amusement. It did not amuse her; and the concentration necessary in following the play made conversation impossible.
“Edward and I play every night,” Mrs Morgan explained. “When he is absent I play a single-handed patience. But that isn’t so interesting. Now when he has to leave home you will be able to play with me. That will cheer us during his absences, and will be nicer for me.”
Prudence began to feel very much as a fish must when caught in a net. The desire to escape was imperative; but the net tightened hourly; there appeared no weak places in it. And Edward Morgan himself was so amazingly kind, and equally amazingly obtuse. He appeared entirely unaware of the vain longing for escape which dominated Prudence’s mind, and made her increasingly restless because of that gradual closing of the net which made retreat day by day more seemingly impossible.
Old Mrs Morgan gave a dinner party for the purpose of introducing Prudence formally as her son’s betrothed wife to his and her immediate friends. Prudence was obliged to stand beside her with Edward and receive these guests as they arrived, and listen to their congratulations and utter little stereotyped phrases in acknowledgment of their good wishes.