Prudence Pursued (22 page)

“Sound thinking,” Dr. Phipps said, nodding his approval. “Should any of Mrs. Greenwood’s servants be questioned later on, they can verify Mr. Goldman came in his professional capacity to measure the vicar for a new coat.”

Dorothea urged her guests to be seated, but Dr. Phipps remained standing, eager to get on with the duty before him. Addressing James, he said, “We mustn’t waste time. If you will perform the procedure, Sir James, I shall supervise. Then I need not tell a fib either should I be confronted about performing a vaccination at Mrs. Greenwood’s residence today.” He winked at the two boys.

Turning to Prudence, his eyes glowing with good humor, James asked, “Will you assist me, Miss Pentyre?”

Prudence rose quickly, eager to be of assistance. “Of course, Sir James.” In a low, soft voice, she added, “May I point out you also have received a threatening letter? You may find yourself in the same predicament as Dr. Phipps—someone may demand to know if you performed such a procedure. You will not wish to tell a fib either.” She glanced sidelong at the small boys sitting in rigid attention on the settee, watching and listening.

James followed her glance, smiling as he did so.

Arthur, who had been hovering at James’s elbow, said, “She has a point.”

“If you would allow me, I shall perform the procedure,” Prudence volunteered. “I have done so before, as you know. It is a simple matter, and I am not a target of the anti-vaccination league.” Turning to the little boys, she added, “It will not hurt much, I promise.”

The tailor bowed in her direction, saying, “If you, please, ma’am.”

James flashed Prudence an oddly keen look before saying, “My dear Miss Pentyre, you have the heart of a tigress.”

Prudence blushed as a thrill of pleasure coursed through her veins. The heart of a tigress! This was high praise indeed. She felt certain she would cherish the compliment long after she had departed Bath and returned to her ordinary life with her parents.

“All right then, Miss Pentyre, I have what you need.” Dr. Phipps reached inside the breast pocket of his coat and removed the required lymph. This had been stored inside the quill of a feather and plugged with wax. “Unlike Mr. Goldman, I did not bring my professional bag with me today. I need not remind all of you that Mrs. Phipps and I are paying a social call upon Mrs. Greenwood.” He nodded at Dorothea, who gave him a smile and a brisk nod.

The other required instruments, such as the lancet, the doctor had wrapped carefully in a clean handkerchief. These he presented to Prudence, who first swiped the youngsters’ bare arms with a dab of brandy. As she performed the vaccination with steady fingers while murmuring kind, soothing words, Dr. Phipps gave brief instructions to the tailor regarding how to care for his grandchildren during their brief period of recovery.

“There now,” Prudence said, when she’d finished. “That was not so horrid, was it?”

The little boys shook their dark, curly heads, while their grandfather gratefully clasped hands with Dr. Phipps, Arthur and Sir James and bowed formally to Prudence and the other ladies present.

“Such good, brave children deserve some plum cake, I think,” Eleanor ventured. “Come with me to the kitchen, and you shall have a treat.” She left the room, shepherding Caleb and Judah before her, and followed by Mr. Goldman.

Dorothea then served sherry, tea, and macaroons to her visitors. They chatted briefly about the weather, the benefits of vapor baths, and even the color of Arthur’s imaginary new coat. When Eleanor returned, she sat next to Mrs. Phipps, inquiring politely about her grandchildren. Prudence had just finished her bracing cup of hot tea when she heard a noisy rumpus in the street.

“Good heavens!” Arthur declared in a tight voice. He made his way over to the open window and peered down. “James, they are here!” His tone held a note of ominous doom.

Hurrying to his side, Dr. Phipps stared down upon the shouting throng. “It is a small crowd. They are carrying pickets and what appears to be an effigy. I believe they intend to burn it.”

“How did they find out we were here, I wonder?” James mused.

Outraged, Dorothea declared, “It is so vexatious to consider that I am being spied upon by my neighbors or my servants.”

“No, dear lady, I believe someone has been spying on
me
,” Dr. Phipps said apologetically.

“Or perhaps me,” James put in with a resigned shrug.

Prudence felt a rising indignation as she listened to the angry shouting from outside. Curious, she made her way to the window and gazed down upon the street. She counted a dozen protesters—mostly ill-dressed men and a few older women wearing caps and aprons. Some bellowed like cattle. Prudence experienced a twinge of fear.

Then came a loud pounding at the front door. Mrs. Phipps gasped. Eleanor clasped the woman’s hand while Prudence and Dorothea exchanged anxious glances.

“Do not let your maid open the door, Mrs. Greenwood,” James ordered. “I will go.” Prudence’s heart jolted in her chest before it resumed beating at an extraordinary rate.

“I shall go with you,” Arthur said.

“Arthur!” Eleanor gasped, a trembling hand fluttering to her throat.

“Eleanor, go back to the kitchen,” her husband commanded. “Tell Mr. Goldman he must leave his grandchildren here. We shall see that they are returned safely later once this mob has been dispersed.”

“Mr. Goldman should leave now by the back way,” James added.

Eleanor took courage from her husband’s approving nod, and hastened from the room.

Again there was a loud, demanding knock upon the front door. The bellowing and shouting became louder, too.

“Gird your loins, gentlemen,” James said, reaching for his cane. Prudence noticed that the doctor and Arthur had also armed themselves with walking sticks. “We must keep the rabble outside at all costs.”

She also noted how pale and distraught Mrs. Phipps appeared and hurried to her side, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Ladies, I advise you to stay away from the window in case they should hurl a stone,” the doctor advised.

Without thinking, Prudence followed the men to the landing of the stairs. While Arthur and Dr. Phipps thundered down the steps, James, turning, thrust his cane at her. “Take this, Prudence, and use it if you must. We will try to keep them outside, but should they storm the house and mount these stairs, do what you can to keep them from getting any further.”

She nodded briskly and swallowed hard.

Taking her free hand, he squeezed it. “Do not be afraid. I do not believe they will intentionally hurt a woman.” The intense look he gave her seemed to Prudence as palpable as an embrace. And he had used her first name too. He’d called her Prudence. Her heart raced again, but this time not with fear. She would not let him down.

“You may count on me,” she assured him, thrusting her chin forward.

James released her hand, flicked her cheek gently with a tentative finger and said with a faint smile, “I know it, my dear.”

The banging on the door grew louder. When Arthur called up to him in an urgent tone, “James!” he made his way quickly down the steps. Prudence, watching him, rejoiced that he did not appear to limp at all.

While Mrs. Phipps lingered upon the threshold of the drawing room, Dorothea rushed past her to join Prudence on the landing. “What can I do, Prudence?” she asked, slightly breathless.

“Pray!” Prudence declared.

Eleanor reappeared then, having used the back stairs, assuring them that Mr. Goldman had left and that his grandchildren were safe in the kitchen, where they would stay until Sir James said otherwise.

A sudden whiff of smoke caused Prudence’s pulse to race even faster. What if Dorothea’s house should catch fire? Prudence wondered if she could talk some sense into the protesters. She thrust Sir James’s cane at Eleanor, saying, “Take this, and use it if you must.”

When Eleanor shrank back, Dorothea snatched the cane. “Give it to me. If they get past the men downstairs, you can be sure I will not allow the ruffians any further than this top step. They will not come into my home and abuse my guests.” Her voice was full of determined scorn. Prudence did not doubt her resolve.

“What are you going to do, Prudence?” Eleanor wanted to know, her voice quavering.

“Maybe the sight of a woman will calm the crowd,” she replied, quickly descending the stairs.

Prudence could hear the angry chanting and smell the acrid smoke wafting through the open windows. Arthur, James and Dr. Phipps had apparently gone outside and shut the front door behind them. She thought she heard James speaking to the crowd, but she could not make out what he was saying. Glancing down to the floor below, Prudence noticed Dorothea’s cook, armed with a large wooden rolling pin, standing guard in the foyer. The stern-faced woman was accompanied by a broad-shouldered young footman, who held in his firm grasp the iron shovel generally used for scooping ashes from the fireplace. They, too, appeared determined to prevent any protesters from entering the premises without a fight.

With her heart pounding, Prudence gave them a brisk nod of approval as she continued to make her way down the stairs. She knew the servants must also be frightened out of their wits. They had all heard tales of what the league had done in other communities. If the truth were known, she couldn’t have been more scared to death than if she were on her way to confront a tribe of rioting Dyaks in the jungles of Borneo. But something had to be done. She took a fortifying breath and made her way to the front door.

As Prudence slowly opened it, Dr. Phipps spun around, startled. “Miss Pentyre, you should not come out here.”

“I know,” she admitted, surveying the crowd. Now that she could see them up close, Prudence realized there were less than a dozen actual protesters carrying placards that read SAVE THE CHILDREN and WORK OF THE DEVIL and other startling statements. Most of the assembled crowd appeared to be nothing more than curious or mocking onlookers, who kept their distance, but were eager to watch the protestation. Some of the spectators actually shouted rebukes at the protestors. Prudence angrily noted the smashed eggs and squashed fruit on the side of Dorothea’s townhouse and upon the steps in front. The so-called effigy was nothing more than a bundle of burning rags smoldering on the sidewalk in front of the residence.

“Dr. Phipps, perhaps a woman’s calming voice…” Prudence began, taking a tentative step forward.

With a shrug, he moved aside to allow her to make her way onto the landing in view of the crowd. As Prudence did so, she heard a vaguely familiar voice call out, “I know this lady!”

James and Arthur held up their hands to prevent her from moving any further down the garbage littered steps. Turning her head, Prudence recognized Benedict Younghughes at the bottom of the stairs. He held a sign that declared STOP THE ABOMINATION!

“Mr. Younghughes!” Prudence declared, astonished. Knowing how strongly he was opposed to Jenner’s procedure, she couldn’t help wondering if he was perhaps the instigator behind this dreadful affair. Using her most quelling tone—the one that had, on numerous occasions, taken the sass out of rowdy farmers’ sons forced to attend Sunday School against their will, Prudence demanded, “What is the meaning of this, Mr. Younghughes?”

At that same moment, James appeared to notice the man too. “Younghughes, is it? What the devil are you doing here?”

Younghughes appeared to shrink a little. With his small eyes darting warily from James and Arthur then back to Prudence, he drew himself up, replying, “We are protesting Dr. Phipps’s administration of the cowpox vaccine here today.”

The crowd murmured as all eyes appeared to swivel in the doctor’s direction.

Pursing his mouth with disapproval, Younghughes added, “I might have known you would be here as well, Sir James.” To Prudence, he said, “I warned you about this man.”

“You have been mislead, Mr. Younghughes,” Prudence told him, taking another step forward. “Dr. Phipps and his wife are here to make a social call.”

“I did not even bring my medical bag,” the doctor spoke up. “Indeed, I did not.”

This admission seemed to cause some confusion among the protesters. A few lowered their placards. Others cast doubtful glances at Mr. Younghughes. A large woman with a dingy cap upon her gray head and equally dingy teeth, lowered her placard and called out to Prudence, “Miss, we was told that a Jew tailor named Goldman was coming here to get that cowpox in his arm.”

“Who told you that?” James demanded, puffing out his chest.

No one replied. A few hung their heads sheepishly. Others regarded him with suspicious disdain.

Arthur took another step down closer to the assembled throng. “It is true that a tailor named Goldman was here today. He took my measurements for a new coat. He was preparing to leave just as we heard all the commotion. I believe you may still be able to catch him—he left from the back entrance, I believe.”

This statement caused more murmuring and the exchange of puzzled expressions. A few in the crowd even stared angrily at Mr. Younghughes. One man poked Younghughes in the arm with his wooden cudgel, saying in an accusing manner, “You told us there was vaccinating going on here today, not a parson getting measured for some new duds.”

Soon the curious spectators on the fringe of the crowd began to jeer the protestors. Amid the laughter, there were shouts of derision, urging the protestors to go home. Some men in the crowd made uncouth comments about the protesters that Prudence would be much too embarrassed to repeat later. Still worried about what treachery the league’s members might have in mind, Prudence placed a hand on Arthur’s arm and moved around him, intent on speaking with the woman in the dingy cap, hoping to reason with her and perhaps shame her into leaving the premises. That’s when Younghughes made a desperate lurch forward.

“Miss Pentyre,” he said, his voice nearly a whine.

Prudence straightened her shoulders. “Mr. Younghughes, you have my word that Dr. Phipps did not perform any vaccinations here today.” Although she kept her gaze steady, Prudence could feel her heart pounding so fiercely she felt certain the loathsome man would see her chest heaving.