Prudence Pursued (7 page)

Prudence suddenly felt annoyed with Mr. Younghughes for disparaging him to her. But before she could say anything in Brownell’s defense, Dorothea did so. “Sir James is quite captivating, I assure you,” she insisted. “And he always behaves with proper decorum.”

Younghughes acknowledged this with the slightest tilt of his head, but he puckered his small mouth even tighter, making it seem quite small indeed.

“And yet, you do not like the man?” Prudence pursued, addressing Younghughes. “Do you not feel sorry for Sir James, at least a little?” she asked, curious. “His health has been seriously affected by his battle injuries. Anyone can see it is so. He may never fully recover.”

“I cannot like him,” Younghughes confessed. “If I must praise him, I will say he has not let all the attention and adulation go to his head. Brownell is quite the hero in London, or so I am told. But he is much too restless for polite society. He seems to have an insatiable thirst for action and devilment--despite his battle wounds and injured health.”

While he continued to give a catalog of Brownell’s many faults, Dorothea drifted away, leaving Prudence alone with her admirer. As Mr. Younghughes clearly desired to stroll around the Pump Room, Prudence reluctantly walked with him. When they approached near the clutter of chairs where James engaged Margaret and her mother in conversation, Younghughes commented, “Yes, I believe he is particular in his attentions to your cousin. Do you think his suit will prosper? Most would claim it to be a great match. Sir James is quite handsomely set up, I am told.”

Lost in private thoughts of her own, Prudence failed to utter a word.

Misunderstanding her silence, Younghughes declared, “Ah, Miss Pentyre, you do not like him either!” His eyes lit with interest.

“When I first met him, I did not know what to make of him,” Prudence admitted. “But my aunt assures me he is quite popular, and Mrs. Greenwood says he has been kindness itself to her son, the Reverend Arthur Greenwood.” Pausing, she added, “For my part, I must admit, I find him diverting.”

James glanced up then. Seeing her with Benedict Younghughes, he acknowledged them both with the arch of an eyebrow and the slightest inclination of his head. This was followed by one of his lazy smiles, which caused Prudence to feel a mild flutter of excitement in her chest. Younghughes stiffened. Quickening his stride, he moved away in the opposite direction, steering Prudence by the elbow.

“Keep him and your young cousin under your eye,” Younghughes warned her when they were well away. “Truly, Miss Pentyre, I feel I should caution you about the man’s low and peculiar tastes.”

Her pulse quickening, Prudence wondered if now she would learn something scandalous about the gentleman everyone had been praising. Did he have a penchant for such low sports as cock fighting? Bull baiting?

“Brownell has embraced many progressive ideas and participates in unseemly activities,” Younghughes continued, glancing over his should as he did so.

“Such as?” she prompted.

“He is quite chummy with many of the more militant abolitionists, I fear. He is a supporter of such radical organizations as Mr. Wilberforce’s Society for the Suppression of Vice—among others.”

Prudence was momentarily taken aback. “But Mr. Younghughes, my own father…”

“Be warned, Miss Pentyre, I beg of you,” Younghughes interrupted. “Sir James Brownell is a dangerous man!”

On Sunday afternoon following church services, Prudence made up one of a small party intent on taking Arthur Greenwood on a walk. The doctor had told the recuperating vicar he should increase his exercise and his exposure to fresh air. Nothing as strenuous as tramping to Beechen Cliff, of course, but a half hour ramble on the green slopes in front of the Royal Crescent had been deemed most suitable. Arthur was accompanied by his wife Eleanor, who clung to his arm with warm affection. Sir James, Clarissa and Margaret joined them, as did Prudence, who reveled in the warm summer sunshine, and was thankful the weather had at last become more seasonable. There would be no need of fires in the hearth this day.

Upon their return, when Sir James offered his arm to Margaret and the Greenwoods fell in behind the uneasy couple, Prudence contrived to have a private talk with Clarissa. Prudence paused to watch a bird preening, allowing the two couples to precede them down the path. She didn’t want the Greenwoods to overhear her conversation, and she certainly did not want Margaret and Sir James to be privy to it either.

“Clarissa, I am happy for this opportunity to have a private word with you.” She emphasized the word
private
.

Clarissa appeared slightly fluttered. Glancing at her cousin’s closest friend, Prudence thought she noticed a sudden wariness about Clarissa’s eyes too. However, the younger lady rallied, asking with a shy smile, “Is it a secret that you wish to share with me?”

“It may well be a secret,” Prudence replied lightly, “but if so, you must be the one to tell me.” Seeing the puzzlement on Clarissa’s face, she added in a quiet voice, “I know you and Margaret are the best of friends, so I am certain she has confided in you about Sir James’s offer of marriage.”

Appearing slightly discomposed, Clarissa hesitated before saying, “Margaret did mention he has made her an offer, but she has not accepted it. I believe the matter is not generally known.”

Prudence nodded, inwardly pleased with herself. She’d been right. If Margaret had a confidant to whom she revealed her most intimate secrets, it was surely Clarissa Paige. “So it
is
a secret of sorts, isn’t it? Has Margaret confided in you her thoughts regarding his proposal? Does she plan to accept his offer?”

Clarissa, biting her lower lip, appeared troubled. “Miss Pentyre,” she began.

“Prudence, please!” she insisted, giving Clarissa’s arm a squeeze.

“Yes, Prudence,” Clarissa said with a shy half smile. “I hesitate to tell you any more. Margaret did share her thoughts with me in strictest confidence. Surely, you understand. As I just mentioned, the proposal is not yet generally known, and I believe both Margaret and Mrs. Leyes would like to see it stays that way until Margaret makes up her mind, one way or another.”

“I do realize I have placed you in an awkward situation. I do not mean to,” Prudence said. “I’ll admit both my aunt and I are at a loss to know why Margaret is hesitating. My cousin does not have feelings of affection for Sir James. She told me so herself. In fact, she appears to have little regard for him either. I had hoped she might have confided in you regarding her reluctance. You need have no scruples in telling me. Margaret has been somewhat candid with me on the subject.”

After a brief silence, Clarissa said, “Margaret does not love him—not in the least.”

“Does she love another?” Prudence probed, trying to keep her tone matter-of-fact.

“Not that I am aware of,” Clarissa answered, blushing.

“Clarissa, I
am
sorry for putting you in this position,” Prudence insisted. “I know you do not wish to betray any confidences. I understand, certainly I do. Aunt Judith and I are simply trying to understand Margaret’s reluctance. A marriage of convenience is better than no marriage at all, or so my aunt believes.”

“Have you not asked Margaret yourself?”

“We have done so, but she seems to have no plausible excuse—only she does not love him. As far as my aunt is concerned, it is no excuse at all.”

When Clarissa arched a dark eyebrow, Prudence continued, “It would be a most suitable match, and my aunt is hoping it will come off. Even though Margaret feels no affection for Sir James now, she may do so in the future. Many couples learn to love one another after they are married.”

“This is true,” Clarissa acknowledged without enthusiasm.

“Perhaps Margaret knows something about Sir James’s character we do not know—something which repels her,” Prudence hinted.

Frowning, Clarissa said, “If that is so, she has not shared it with me.”

“And your brother Harry?”

“What of him?” Clarissa asked, seeming puzzled by this sudden shift.

“Would he know something unsavory about Sir James? If so, would he repeat it to Margaret, do you think?”

Clarissa shook her head, the dark curls brushing against her pink cheeks. “No, he would not. Besides, Harry admires Sir James a great deal. You heard him say so the other day. He has offered to accompany Sir James on the next voyage although I am not at all certain my parents will allow it.”

“I assume Harry knows Sir James has offered for Margaret?”

Clarissa hesitated and then blushed. “I did mention it to him—and swore him to secrecy. My brother and I are close, you understand. And we are both such good friends with Margaret, I did not think she would mind if he knew.”

“Was he surprised?”

“Yes, he was a little.”

“Well, no matter,” Prudence said with a sigh. They continued to stroll at a leisurely pace, well enough behind the other two couples so their conversation could not be overheard. “I suppose Sir James will woo her ardently, and Margaret will be won in the end.”

“Perhaps it is just the suddenness of it,” Clarissa said finally. “Perhaps Margaret simply needs to get used to the idea. His proposal came as a surprise to her—or so she told me. She did not think Sir James had noticed her at all.”

“I still cannot help but wonder if she might have special feelings for someone else, a younger gentleman, perhaps one of Harry’s friends or acquaintances.”

Clarissa shook her head. “I do not believe so. She has not mentioned it. But then, she does not confide readily.”

Chuckling, Prudence said, “True. I am sure if Margaret gushed on about one of Harry’s friends, you would recall it.”

With a tinkle of laughter, Clarissa replied, “Indeed! Margaret is so reticent if she gushed about anything at all, I would certainly take note of it.”

Later that afternoon, as Prudence sat reading—or attempting to read—in her aunt’s drawing room, she contemplated the possible obstacles standing in the way of Margaret accepting Sir James’s proposal of marriage. Prudence wondered how she might go about discovering and then removing those obstacles. She had hoped for an intimate conversation with her cousin regarding these matters, but Margaret was upstairs suffering with a mild fever. Blisters had formed on her arm, just as the doctor had cautioned. Meg insisted she did not feel at all well, but Prudence suspected her cousin simply did not wish to be questioned any further about her reluctance to accept a most advantageous marriage offer.

Looking up from the devotional book her father had recommended, one she had brought with her to Bath, Prudence glanced over at her aunt. Mrs. Leyes dozed upon the sofa, a forgotten romance novel open upon her lap. Prudence sighed. She felt a little homesick. She had received a letter from one of her Sunday school students—the ten-year-old daughter of a farmer’s widow. The handwriting appeared painfully scrawled, but the sentiment was clear—young Jenny Sutherland missed her teacher and wondered when Miss Pentyre would be returning home. The girl had given the brief letter to Prudence’s mother, who had forwarded it to her absent daughter, along with a newsy missive of her own.

Prudence sighed again. This time it served to waken her dozing aunt, who glanced about briefly as though having forgotten her bearings. Judith blinked once or twice before fixing her fond gaze upon her niece.

“I noticed Mr. Younghughes wasted little time in renewing his acquaintance with you, my dear,” she said, stifling a yawn.

“Aunt Judith, I hope you will not contemplate any matchmaking on my behalf,” Prudence warned. Frowning, she closed her book, placing a green satin ribbon on the page as a bookmark.

“Pru, let me be frank. You are no longer in your salad days. Mr. Younghughes would be a suitable catch. You would be mistress of your own home and comfortably situated. You are not still hoping for a romance, are you?”

Prudence gave her a weak smile. Romance? She had never felt romantic toward any particular gentleman of her acquaintance. Sometimes, when reflecting upon this lack of sentiment, she found herself missing what she had never experienced. She’d heard so much about romance—it was a frequent topic of conversation among young ladies. She had also read many romance novels when she was younger. Once Prudence had longed for the rush of excitement, the thrill of anticipation when looking for a special face in a sea of faces, listening for the sound of a beloved’s voice.

But it was not to be. She remained unmarried. This was surely God’s plan for her life. Prudence had accepted it long ago and refused to mourn over what could never be. Besides, she had much useful work to do, and her parents were grateful for her tireless efforts in the parish. She would stay busy visiting the sick, feeding the hungry and caring for the widows and orphans, as Saint James admonished the believers to do in his worthy epistle.

“I wish you would give Mr. Younghughes a little encouragement,” her aunt continued.

“I have not come to Bath to promote my own interests, as well you know,” Prudence answered with a shrug.

She had come to ease her aunt’s anxiety and to promote her young cousin’s welfare. She intended to do so. Before she could pursue this topic of conversation further, they were surprised when the maid announced the unexpected arrival of Sir James. Aunt Judith sat upright on the sofa, straightening her cap and smoothing her skirt. She then took a fortifying sniff from her vinaigrette bottle. Prudence resisted the urge to primp and tidy herself, banishing any vain thoughts at once. Brownell had not come to see her after all.

The man limped in, wearing a dark blue coat with gold buttons, buckskins and boots. He carried a bouquet of red carnations mixed with baby breath and white rose buds. Even though he still limped, Prudence noticed how he moved with more spryness than before, and she felt happy to see how he appeared to be on the mend after so long a convalescence.

“Good afternoon, Sir James,” Judith greeted him. “I’m sorry Margaret is not well enough to visit with you today. She is experiencing minor ill effects from the vaccination—a slight fever and mild headache.”

“I expected as much,” he replied. “Have the blisters formed on her arm?”

“Yes,” Judith told him, her hands fluttering near her throat. “She’ll be all right in a few days, will she not?”

“Absolutely,” he assured her. “She’s young and hearty,” he added with an approving nod.

Amused, Prudence felt her lips twitch. She could think of several more appealing adjectives, which would please Margaret more than
young and hearty
. If this was any indication of the sort of sweet talk James gave her cousin, she wondered if his mother had not despaired of him ever winning a lady’s hand in marriage.”

“The flowers are for Margaret,” he said, presenting them to Judith without ceremony, “but I’ve come to beg a favor from Miss Pentyre while I am here.”

James cast Prudence a quick, sidelong glance. She raised her eyebrows, aflame with curiosity and a sort of mild fluttery excitement hard to define. Her aunt frowned, apparently puzzled. “And what might that be, Sir James?” she inquired.

“Tomorrow I must go on a mission of mercy to Lady Richmond’s School for Young Ladies,” he informed her. “The headmistress, Mrs. Trimmer, has obtained the necessary lymph to provide vaccinations for her young students. She wishes me to perform the procedure. The girls there are orphans, don’t you know? It is one of my mother’s favorite charities, and I am a trustee. It is no great distance from Bath. As the students are young females, I thought perhaps an able female assistant—one who has assisted with the procedure before—would be a great help to me.”

“Cannot Mrs. Trimmer administer the vaccine?” Judith asked.

James shook his head. “She is a timid soul—afraid she’ll cut the girls too deeply and perhaps leave a scar.” Turning to Prudence, he said, “Edward Jenner himself sent the lymph. It arrived by post yesterday. Miss Pentyre, I know you have helped your father with this simple procedure in the past. You were such a great comfort to Margaret when she was undergoing the same the other day. Do say you’ll accompany me,” he said, smiling. “With your approval, of course, Mrs. Leyes,” he added, turning back again to Judith.

“Pru, are you willing?” her aunt asked. The woman seemed anxious to please Sir James, but uncertain perhaps about sending her unmarried niece off on a journey—no matter how brief—alone with an unmarried gentleman. Prudence had no such qualms. She found Sir James to be exasperating, it was true. But he was certainly never boring or vulgar. He
was
trustworthy. Prudence did wonder, as she glanced at her aunt’s anxious countenance, if her aunt considered it the height of impropriety for her to go off alone with Sir James. Surely not? Prudence was not a young miss straight out of the schoolroom. She was nearer thirty than not—a woman grown. And plain. Besides, Sir James was the son of one of Aunt Judith’s dearest friends. Surely he could be trusted.

“I am more than willing,” Prudence announced, earning a broad smile from their visitor. She tried to ignore the unexpected flutter in the pit of her stomach and focused on her need to feel useful. Prudence felt a surge of pride that he would have considered her instead of some other lady of his acquaintance, such as Dorothea Greenwood or even the younger Eleanor Greenwood. “Is Lady Brownell to accompany us?” she inquired.

“No, ma’am, she has a previous engagement, and I do not like to postpone the trip as I am not certain how long the cowpox lymph will be viable. You understand, of course, the fresher it is, the more effective the vaccination. I would have asked my good friend Reverend Greenwood and his wife to come with me, but as you know, he is not yet fully recovered, and I do not like to tax his strength. And Eleanor—Mrs. Greenwood—does not like to leave him for any length of time, which I am sure does her much credit.”