Prudence Pursued (3 page)

“To oblige his mama, Sir James is determined to take Margaret to wife, and I thank God for it,” her aunt said feelingly.

“Because you don’t want her to remain an old maid, like me,” Prudence replied in an offhand manner, hoping to lighten her aunt’s mood.

After a brief but pregnant pause, Judith confided in low, tragic tones, “Because there is the most abominable debt to pay.”

Bewildered, Prudence asked, “What debt?”

“Giles’s gambling debts.” This in a lower tone still.

Prudence gasped softly. She had not known her Uncle Giles had gambled or that he’d left his widow saddled with gambling debts. “Is it so steep then?” she asked, leaning forward. “Does Margaret know?” She wondered too if her own mother knew her elder brother had been a gambler.

“No, Margaret does not know, and Prudence, I beg you will not tell her,” her aunt pleaded, sitting up slightly on the chaise. “You would not be so unfeeling? She idolized her father and knows nothing of his gambling habit. Giles loved Margaret too—called her his Little Button. He never once complained I did not bear him a son.” With a sniff, Judith carried her crumbled handkerchief to her nose. Her eyes filled with sentimental tears. “I cannot help but think had I been able to produce more children, perhaps he wouldn’t have taken to gaming as he did,” she added in a tremulous voice.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Judith, I had no idea,” Prudence admitted, dismayed. “Does my mother know about the debt? Does my father know?”

“Oh, yes, Henry, God bless him, has helped when he could,” Judith told her. “Your dear mother has been quite understanding too. But your father is not a rich man either, although he is a landed gentleman and fortunately need not rely solely on his living from the church for an income. But I do not want to be a burden upon your parents—upon
anyone
. I’ve sold most of the Leyes family jewels, which came to Giles when we married—all except the pearls, which I gave to Margaret upon her coming out. I still hold the sapphires too, which I planned to give her upon the occasion of her marriage.”

Prudence, surprised by the revelation of her late uncle’s vices, felt a surge of bitter resentment toward him for placing her aunt and cousin in this awkward predicament. Excessive gambling was one of the many sins the popular reformer Mr. William Wilberforce so strongly denounced. More than once he had declared theirs a decadent generation of excesses. Her father couldn’t have agreed more and preached the same from his pulpit on more than one occasion.

When Prudence remained silent, her aunt went on. “I have been trying to quietly pay back what I could over the years. It has not been easy. Other widows in my predicament often have sons or brothers to pay off these so-called debts of honor, but I refuse to be completely dependent upon Henry. Why, it would send him to the poorhouse! And I can hardly allow Giles’s debts to follow Margaret and me to the grave, can I?”

“This is dreadful!” Prudence exclaimed, shaking her head as she tried to digest her aunt’s shocking news. “I would never have guessed Uncle Giles gambled so excessively—and how you, his widow, would be held responsible for his debts.”

“It is hardly something one talks about it, even within the family,” her aunt acknowledged with an embarrassed blush. “You must promise me you will not mention this to Margaret.” She blinked several times.

“I promise,” Prudence replied. She meant it.

Her aunt hung her head. “Oh, Pru, it is so humiliating. You see, Giles owed money to many close friends and acquaintances. It is imperative that Margaret marry Sir James, so we might settle your uncle’s debts honorably.”

“I have no desire to pry too closely, but does Sir James know the extent of the debts?” Prudence asked.

“Yes, I’ve taken Sir James into my confidence. He has assured me he will pay off the debts in full once he and Margaret are married. He is all that is kind and good, I assure you. I look forward to living out the rest of my years with peace of mind and a modicum of comfort.”

Judith, reaching for a clear bottle of lavender-colored pills, peered at her niece and said, “Come now, let’s not talk of it any more. Go to Lady Oldenfield’s and see Margaret safely vaccinated. Meet Sir James and take measure of the man. You will not find him wanting. Then see if you cannot persuade your headstrong cousin to look upon him more favorably.”

“I will do my best,” Prudence assured her, rising. “Will you send for the carriage?”

Her aunt nodded and reached out a hand toward her. Fixing Prudence with a look of earnest appeal, she said, “So you quite understand now, don’t you, Pru? If Margaret does not marry Sir James, her future will be as uncertain and precarious as my own.”

Prudence, holding her aunt’s cool and trembling hand, nodded and swallowed hard. She could indeed understand how, from her aunt’s perspective, it was important to both her future happiness and security—as well as Margaret’s own—the marriage to Sir James come off successfully. “I do understand, Aunt Judith. You may rely on me.”

But as she took her leave, Prudence was still puzzled by the gentleman’s persistence. Why should he be so intent upon marrying Margaret when she seemed less than eager? Prudence loved Meg, certainly, but her cousin had no beauty, position, or wealth to recommend her. Not only was she indifferent to his suit, but also her family was encumbered heavily with so-called “debts of honor.”

And if Margaret had spoken truthfully, Sir James’s affections were not strongly engaged either. This was not a love match on either side. It didn’t make sense. Could not a man with Sir James’s wealth and position find another Bath miss to propose marriage to—one without an embarrassment of gambling debts to pay off in her father’s name? Surely his mother had other friends with eligible but more willing daughters?

It was a perplexing riddle. Prudence made up her mind to resolve it.

“There he is—Sir James Brownell.”

Margaret leaned close to whisper in her cousin’s ear, as she and Prudence paused momentarily upon the threshold of Lady Oldenfield’s fashionable green and gold salon.

Prudence glanced in the direction Margaret indicated. She eyed the gentleman, with piqued curiosity. Based on conflicting descriptions she’d received from her aunt and cousin, Prudence had created an unflattering image in her mind regarding Sir James’s appearance. She was more than a little surprised when he proved to be taller and more broad shouldered than she’d expected and younger too.

His complexion was sadly weathered, presumably from exposure to the harsh elements of sun and sea in the Far East. His hair was golden brown; his one visible eye a brilliant blue. She felt safe in supposing the one concealed by the inimitable eye patch would match. Although he was dressed modishly in a dark blue coat, buckskins and top boots, there was nothing about the primping dandy in his dress.

“Meg, he’s not old at all!” Prudence declared with a hiss.

As though aware of her scrutiny, Sir James pivoted then and glanced in their direction. When he smiled, Prudence observed he had excellent teeth. Taking his leave from the red-haired man he’d been conversing with, Sir James made his way across the salon toward them. Despite his limp, he moved with a quick, masculine grace. Prudence thought him quite nimble for a man of his height.

“My dear Miss Leyes.” He took possession of her hand.

Prudence noticed how her cousin stiffened and ducked her head. The gesture seemed one of guilt rather than coy shyness.
What game is Meg playing at?
Before Margaret could make the proper introductions, Sir James released her hand and regarded Prudence.

“You must be Miss Prudence Pentyre, Miss Leyes’s cousin,” he said, shaking her hand. There was an amused glimmer in his one visible eye. The hint of a smile quivered at the corner of his mouth. Making a slight bow, he added, “I am Sir James Brownell, as you must already know. I believe my future happiness depends on the good impression I make upon you now. You see, I have a sneaking suspicion dear Miss Leyes has invited you to Bath with the intent purpose of seeking your evaluation of my worthiness as her suitor.” His voice was deep and pleasing to the ear.

“You are quite candid, Sir James,” Prudence replied, surveying him with mild hostility.
And too bold by half!

“Let me be even more candid, Miss Pentyre. I admire your earlobes. I cannot but wonder if you would dare wear tiger’s teeth for earbobs as the Dyak women do.” Before Prudence could stammer a response, he added, “I presented a perfectly matched pair to Miss Leyes, but she seemed repulsed by my rare and unusual gift. I can assure you such ornaments are all the crack in Borneo.” He grinned down at her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Prudence noticed the crimson flush on her cousin’s cheeks. She could feel her own cheeks flame with heat as well.
I am fencing with a master
, she decided, experiencing a rush of exhilaration. She could be bold too when she chose and decided to brazen this out.

“Cousin, you did not show me these exotic earbobs,” she chastised. “I would like to see them. Perhaps you would even allow me to wear them, if you will not.”

Margaret, appearing slightly alarmed, replied in a quiet under tone, “They are not at all the thing.” Frowning, she averted her gaze and appeared to study the pattern of Lady Oldenfield’s Turkish carpet.

Prudence glanced up at Sir James, a militant sparkle in her eyes. Keeping her voice polite and pleasant, she said, “I shall try to persuade Margaret to allow me to wear the earbobs. Who knows? By doing so, I may start a new fashion in Bath.”

“You have spunk,” Brownell proclaimed with an approving nod.

Embarrassed, Margaret glanced around the salon and asked impatiently, “Sir James, where is the physician? If I must go through this ordeal, I would like to get it over with as soon as possible.”

“He is performing the vaccinations in the library over there.” Brownell indicated an open door connecting the salon with the library next door. “I assure you, Miss Leyes, it is a simple procedure and a relatively painless one. I only wish I had been given the opportunity to undergo it myself. Instead, I endured one of the most miserable experiences of my life when my father had me inoculated against smallpox when I was a child.”

“I believe they call it
buying the pox
,” Prudence interjected.

He nodded. “Yes. I was locked in a stable with other boys my age and prepared for inoculation. We survived on a diet of vegetables and water only. They took blood from our veins and purged our bodies until we were thin and wasted. Small pox scabs were then attached to the open cuts on our arms. I became ill with a high fever, nausea, and seeping sores. I was not released to my father’s care again until the disease had run its course, and the scabs dropped off.”

“How long did this dreadful ordeal last?” Margaret queried, her thin brows knitted into a frown.

“Three long months, my dear Miss Leyes, and I’ve never forgotten the experience, I can assure you.”

“I believe my own father endured the same,” Prudence told him. “It is why he has so fervently embraced Dr. Jenner’s simple vaccination.”

“You have been vaccinated, Miss Pentyre?” Brownell inquired politely.

“I have,” she admitted. “Thanks to Dr. Jenner, people need no longer worry about catching smallpox from a friend or neighbor as easily as they would the common cold. My father predicts in time Jenner’s vaccination will bring about the annihilation of the disease throughout the world.”

“There is no doubt. Perhaps in our lifetime, we will see it,” Brownell ventured. “Throughout the British Empire, at least, it is quite possible.”

Margaret touched Prudence lightly on the elbow. “Clarissa Paige has come with her brother Harry,” she said indicating the new arrivals, who lingered upon the threshold exchanging a greeting with their hostess. “I most particularly wish to speak to them about… er… something. I shall leave the two of you to become better acquainted.”

After the slightest glance at Sir James and a brief inclination of her head, Margaret flashed a wide-eyed stare, pregnant with meaning, at Prudence. Then she hurried away with a swish of rustling skirts to greet the new arrivals.

Sighing, Brownell watched her go. His brow wrinkled. “The poor girl. I fear she is neither a romantic creature nor a courageous one.”

Prudence said, in slightly acid tone, “Nor as biddable as you expected either, I wager.” She thrust her chin forward in a challenging manner.

He gave her a smile, his blue eye twinkling. “Miss Pentyre, you misjudge me. I do not want a biddable wife. But I had hopes Margaret might fall violently in love with me. I am sorry to say she has not done so.”

“No, Margaret does not love you,” Prudence told him. “I should say her feelings for you are lukewarm at best.”

Sir James nodded with approval. “You do not mince your words, Miss Pentyre. I like that.” Looking at her in a penetrating way Prudence found somewhat disconcerting, he added, “I cannot think why we have never met before as I am so often in Bath visiting my mother. I know you visit your aunt and cousin frequently too. Had we met before, I’m certain I would have remembered. You have such handsome eyes—particularly when they snap and sparkle, as they do now.”

Annoyed, Prudence narrowed her handsome eyes. At first, she thought he was flirting with her, but his tone was too matter-of-fact. His countenance appeared more pensive than playful. “No, Sir James, we have not met before,” she assured him, her tone crisp. “You spend much of your time in the Orient, I am told, and I do not visit Bath as often as you suppose.”

“But while you are here, I hope you will plead my case with Margaret. Will she allow herself to be guided by you, do you think?” He regarded her with a quirk of his eyebrows.

“In this particular matter, I cannot say. I don’t know,” Prudence confessed. He admired her frankness—or so he claimed. She would be even more frank. Smoothing the skirt of her dress with one nervous hand, she forged ahead. “Sir James, I am curious why you should have selected my cousin as the woman you wish to marry. As you have pointed out, Margaret is not in love with you, and you cannot claim to be in love with her either.”

“How do you know?” he quizzed. When she did not immediately reply, he added, “Margaret is virtuous and from a good family. She has a plain but pleasing countenance—particularly when she smiles. I would not pursue her if I thought she harbored a secret infatuation for someone else, but I have seen no evidence of this. Therefore, I will persist.” As an afterthought, he leaned closer and asked, “You do not think she is secretly in love with another, do you?”

“You are the second person to ask me the same question today,” Prudence replied, looking up at him with a bemused expression.

“Who was the first?”

“My Aunt Judith.”

“Surely, if Mrs. Leyes doesn’t know, it cannot be so,” Brownell prompted.

Prudence gave him a rueful smile. “You don’t understand how easily a daughter can keep her mother from finding out such things.”

“I daresay you are right,” he conceded. “But then, Margaret is not high-spirited.”

Prudence chuckled and tilted her head to one side. “But as I have already pointed out, she is not as compliant as you had expected or as my aunt had hoped.”

The teasing glimmer in his good eye brightened. “True. And shall I tell you something? I like your cousin all the more for it.”

“Sir James, I might as well tell you I have no intention of coaxing my cousin against her wishes into a marriage with you or anyone else,” Prudence declared with a defiant thrust of her chin.

“Quite wise—considering,” he replied.

“Considering what?”

“Your own unmarried state, of course,” Brownell replied with a shrug. “You can hardly be an appropriate counselor for Margaret, convincing her to enter into matrimony when you have not done so yourself. I believe your aunt was misguided in her efforts to have you do so. No doubt your own mama wished you to come—perhaps to tell Margaret how being a spinster is not an ideal circumstance for any young woman.”

Prudence swallowed back a heated retort. The man was insufferable! No wonder her cousin felt reluctant to accept his proposal of marriage. Prudence had rarely met anyone as rude. “What an unhandsome remark,” she snapped.

Brownell bowed stiffly. “I
am
frank. I told you so. If you are unwilling to be my colleague in winning Margaret’s hand, I hope you will at least refrain from being my opponent.” He flashed her a sudden and disarming smile. “Miss Pentyre, please say you will not stand in my way.”

Prudence felt strangely off balance in his presence. She didn’t like the feeling at all. She also acknowledged she had always been headstrong and willful—not the best traits in a female. Perhaps this was the real reason she was not married. Like Sir James, she often spoke her mind and asked questions others would consider impolite or even prying. Appraising him with a critical eye, she remembered what her aunt had confided to her, how the man had behaved in a most generous fashion, even expressing a willingness to pay off Uncle Giles’s shameful gambling debts. Sir James might have other redeemable qualities as well, besides being wealthy and willing to marry her plain and rather shy cousin.

After a moment, Prudence replied, “You are on your own in this, but I will not stand in your way. I only wish for my cousin’s happiness.”

“Thank you, Miss Pentyre. I am in your debt,” he murmured, his lips twitching slightly.

Glancing toward the tea table where Margaret appeared to be enjoying an animated conversation with Clarissa Paige and her brother Harry, Prudence had an uncomfortable feeling the conversation had become much too personal for Lady Oldenfield’s small salon. What if they should be overheard? Fixing a polite society smile upon her face, she decided to change the subject. “How exactly did you come by your injuries, sir?” she inquired.

“Ah, this pitiful limp! It is quite temporary, I assure you, and the eye patch as well,” he informed her. Then leaning closer, he added, “But do not, I pray, reveal
that
bit of information, Miss Pentyre. Believing I have lost an eye while crossing swords with Malay pirates, the ladies think me quite romantic, and the gentlemen admire me excessively. It is most gratifying.”

Prudence laughed in spite of herself. The man was incorrigible! Brownell went on to relate his exciting narrative with the skill of a natural-born storyteller. She could easily imagine the burst of gunfire, the shouts and taunts exchanged during the skirmish. In her mind’s eye, she pictured the pirates in their exotic headdresses of feathers of birds-of- paradise, armed with their shields and curved swords. Brownell told her the Malay pirates were the scourges of the East Indies, and she believed him.

“They are the bane of the British, the Spanish and Dutch vessels as well,” he went on. “They plunder when and where they will. Yet none of these governments have done anything to put them down—not even the British Crown.”

“So, you took it upon yourself to do so?” Prudence asked, intrigued. Here stood a man who did not merely talk about the evils of the world—he was a man of action. He had actually done something. Like Mr. Wilberforce and Mr. Jenner, Sir James Brownell had made a stand against the oppression of evil and disease in the world. She had to admire him for this at least.

“Someone had to do something,” he insisted.

“It is the sheerest luck you lived to tell of it!” she declared.

“A blessing,” Brownell amended. Warming to his subject, he continued, “Believe me, Miss Pentyre, when I tell you the sun is never so splendid as it is when it rises and sets over the seas in the East. The moon and stars seem much closer there, and the soil on the island of Borneo is rich and warm. Fecundity is rampant. One of the most breathtaking scenes in all the world can be seen while sailing up the steaming Sarawak River, with mangroves and palms standing sentry upon the banks on either side. The monkeys quarrel in the trees. The crocodiles bask in the sun. And the water snakes, Miss Pentyre, you will scarce believe me when I tell you they raise their heads high in the air and fling themselves across the water.”