Prudence Pursued (6 page)

Aunt Judith had not exaggerated. Lady Eliza Brownell did indeed have an excellent cook, as Prudence happily discovered for herself the next evening when they dined at the lady’s luxurious apartments in the Royal Crescent. A delicate sorrel soup was followed by turbot with lobster sauce, a saddle of roast mutton, duckling with peas and asparagus, an aspic jelly, and various desserts, including two ices, a whipped syllabub, and a pineapple cream Prudence particularly relished.

It was a small party, as Lady Eliza had promised—just the three Greenwoods, the Leyes, and Prudence, who dressed with care for the evening, choosing a new blue gown of Imperial muslin with pleated ribbons across the bodice. Margaret had studied the gown with envious approval, while Aunt Judith declared it to be most becoming.

“The style looks quite well on you, Prudence,” she said. “You have the height and figure to carry it off. But is it not too fashionable for such a small, informal dinner party?”

“I would not want Lady Brownell to think me a rustic,” Prudence had replied. Besides, wearing the new frock gave her a staunch self-confidence she would need if she were to engage in another battle of wits with James. She was later pleased to observe her sparring partner dressed appropriately in the usual evening attire for gentlemen: knee breeches, a long tailed coat, silk stockings, all of which he wore with careless ease. He appeared less like a swashbuckling mariner in these garments, she decided and wondered when he would rid himself of the offending eye patch.

When he said grace before the meal was served, Prudence felt a warm surge of surprised pleasure. She had not expected such an observance from him, but she approved, and although she bowed her head as he prayed, she could not help watching him through lowered lashes, noting again what an agreeable speaking voice he possessed.

Observing Lady Brownell and Aunt Judith together, Prudence realized they were close friends indeed. Her aunt appeared more animated than usual, her imaginary but convenient ailments momentarily forgotten as she enjoyed herself in her friend’s company. Likewise, Dorothea and her son and daughter-in-law appeared to be in a happy, festive mood, eager to please and be pleased. Margaret, on the other hand, was cool and polite, speaking only when spoken too. Prudence carefully noted how her cousin did not appear flustered around Sir James, merely bored and aloof. Even when their host had asked, upon their arrival, to see the site of Margaret’s vaccination, her cousin had held forth her arm with calm reserve. She did not blush, stammer, or look away with embarrassment. But unlike Harry Paige’s solicitous manner the day before, Sir James took Margaret’s arm casually and without tenderness of any sort. He studied the reddening cuts and said, “It should take.”

During the meal, conversation quickly changed to the rather unappetizing topics of Arthur’s influenza, James’s injuries, and Margaret’s smallpox vaccination.

“Miss Pentyre, have you met Mr. Jenner?” Arthur asked, turning to Prudence who sat on his right.

“No, I’ve not had the pleasure,” she told him.

“Perhaps you may do so one day. He receives many invitations to speak before prestigious medical societies, churches, and other organizations. In London one quite meets him everywhere. Of course, members of the nobility and gentry frequently request he personally perform vaccinations upon their children,” Arthur went on.

“The man simply cannot say no,” James spoke up. “It is my understanding Jenner has gone into debt because he no longer receives a regular income from treating his usual patients. Moreover, he was vaccinating free of charge, as well as obtaining and shipping cowpox lymph all over the world at his own expense. I am told his concerned friends urged him to petition the government for reimbursement of his time and the expenses he had accrued while vaccinating citizens throughout the kingdom.”

“Has he done so?” Dorothea wanted to know.

James nodded. “Reluctantly, he agreed to do so. I believe he had no other choice.”

“Miss Leyes, I understand you were recently vaccinated,” Eleanor Greenwood said, addressing Margaret. “Might I inquire how the vaccine was transported?”

Margaret blinked. “Why, I cannot say. I do not know.” She regarded Prudence with a blank expression. Prudence looked to Sir James.

He regarded her in an open manner, his blue eye twinkling. “The usual way is to put the lymph in the shaft of a bird feather and then seal it with wax.”

During the course of the meal, Prudence put aside all her prejudices and preconceptions about James, regarding him as she would any other gentleman—one not intent on marrying her cousin Margaret for dubious reasons. She noted the creases of worry upon his sunburned face. There was a sadness in his unguarded countenance, as though he was oppressed by some private grief. Occasionally, his finely curved lips appeared flattened in a grim line. Did he experience pain from his injuries, she wondered? Was he perhaps heartbroken because of Margaret’s indifference to his suit? She experienced a prick of conscience as she contemplated these possibilities.

Later in the drawing room after dinner, as James spoke of the glory of God’s creation as it was manifested in Borneo, she noted the glimmer of something like joy sparkling in his uncovered eye. He described in enthusiastic detail how the mist hung over the jungle, the way the sun shimmered upon the waters of the Matang River with the great blue mountain looming in the distance. He told of the squatty brown huts, made from palm fronds, which dotted the mud flats. He brought out spears, bright silks, and ivory handled swords for their perusal. He also produced a fascinating collection of butterflies pinned to velvet-covered panels, pressed tropical flowers and an assortment of intriguing birds, chemically preserved.

Prudence stood apart from the others studying one particularly colorful avian specimen. She marveled how one small bird could boast feathers in such a rainbow of colors.

“This is a kingfisher,” James told her. “I will have to consult my notes to be sure which one. The island boasts several, all startlingly beautiful like this one. Are you interested in birds, Miss Pentyre?”

She nodded, feeling slightly awkward that he had sought her out. Ever since their brief but private conversation when he’d accused her of having no sense of humor, Prudence had felt sensitive about his criticism. She felt it was undeserved. Wasn’t it? Regardless, she did not wish to speak of herself. Fixing him with a challenging stare, she said, “You did not tell me about your title—Rajah of Sarawak.”

“Why, I did not think you would be interested in such a trifle as a mere title,” he replied. His tone was one of tolerant amusement. “Besides, had I told you, I fear you would not have believed me.” In a quiet, confidential tone, he added, “Should your cousin Margaret marry me, she would be the Rani of Sarawak.”

“You will then certainly have your work cut out for you, Sir James,” Prudence replied crisply. “I cannot see my cousin leaving the familiar comforts of her home in Bath to rule beside you in your island kingdom across the seas.”

“It is such a small kingdom,” he said, the blue eye twinkling.

When Prudence bridled and did not reply immediately, James said in low voice, “I always seem to get your bristles up, Miss Pentyre. I cannot think why. I must have said or done something to upset you and for that, I am sorry.”

“It is because you are so… flippant,” she told him.

When he sobered suddenly, Prudence wondered if she’d hurt his feelings with her brashness. But surely not! He was brash and not at all sensitive.

“I can be flippant, it is true,” he agreed. “But I am not flippant where your cousin is concerned. Is this what concerns you?”

Prudence glanced around the room, making sure she would not be overheard. “Why Margaret? She is no beauty, and she has no fortune.”

“My dear mama has gone to considerable trouble to convince me it is high time I was leg shackled,” he replied with a half smile.

Prudence frowned. “Flippant — again!” she reproved.

James returned the frown. “Did we not discuss this previously? I thought I made my reasons clear. Margaret does not flirt, she is not recovering from a broken heart, and she does not squander her meager means on clothing and gaming. Nor is she as empty-headed as many other young women of my acquaintance. I might as well marry her as any another young lady in similar circumstances,” he said, shrugging. “I realize you do not favor my suit. You think I am unworthy of your young cousin, and it is true.”

“Not exactly unworthy,” Prudence contradicted, struggling to find a more appropriate word.

“It doesn’t matter,” James said with a careless shrug. “I daresay her mother will convince Margaret to take me in the end. You, however, will find fault with me, no matter what.”

When Prudence did not reply, but stood searching his face, he went on. “I do not want a frivolous bride with lax morals or one dedicated to a life limited to the pursuit of pleasure. As you are a vicar’s daughter, I had assumed you would approve of my choice.”

“Even were I not a vicar’s daughter, I would not approve of any life dedicated simply to frivolous pursuits,” Prudence agreed with firm resolve. When their eyes met, she caught a hint of a smile lurking there.

“You and Margaret are made of strong moral fiber. I admire that. Neither of you have fickle temperaments either. Your hearts would, I daresay, stay true. Too many young females fall in love with a different fribble or coxcomb every other week.” When Prudence acknowledged this with a slight nod, he continued. “Miss Pentyre, might I ask
you
a question?”

Prudence did not answer, but merely tilted her head to one side.

“Have you ever fallen victim to Cupid’s stinging arrows? Perhaps when you were still a schoolroom miss?”

“No,” she answered truthfully. “Have you?”

He raised his eyebrows and said, “No.”

“Not even when you were but a schoolboy?” she pressed.

“Not even then,” he replied. “I have not found the time to fall in love. There have always been so many interesting and exciting things to occupy my time.”

“Like fighting pirates?” Prudence queried, brows arched.

“Yes — among other things,” James acknowledged. “Dancing at Almack’s is tame in comparison. I am certain you must agree.”

Prudence glanced down at the toes of her embroidered slippers. She was not fond of dancing. No, this was not quite true. She enjoyed dancing a little; it was attending the dances which she did not enjoy. Gentlemen did not usually ask plain females to stand up with them. And she was plain. She always had been. So even when she’d gone to Almack’s or attended dance parties, she was seldom afforded the opportunity to actually dance. Prudence sighed. This was a topic of conversation she had no desire to pursue—especially with Sir James.

“Tell me about this bird,” Prudence said, pointing to another colorful but lifeless specimen.

Before he could answer, his mother stepped up beside Prudence, touching her lightly on the forearm with her folded fan. “Miss Pentyre, you must allow me to show you something quite special James brought home to me. It is in my private salon. Come.”

“What is it, Lady Brownell?” Eleanor Greenwood asked, as she joined James and Prudence by the table where the bird specimens were displayed.

“Come and see,” Lady Eliza urged with a secret smile. She made a gesture for them to follow her into the next room.

There, a dozen tiny birds twittered and chirped with merry abandon. They were housed in a large wooden cage near the window. They had red bills and small orange legs and feet. Their plumage was an odd but lovely assortment of gray stripes, brown patches and white dots. Prudence gasped with delight. Even Margaret, quiet and reserved this particular evening, seemed entranced.

“They are extraordinary!” she declared. “What are they called?”

“Zebra finches—they are quite common in the eastern islands,” James said, smiling.

“What do you feed them?” Prudence asked, peering into the cage.

“Sometimes a little hardboiled egg,” Lady Brownell replied. “And bits of grape, apple and lettuce. Millet too. Are they not adorable?”

While the other guests crowded around the cage to admire the finches, Prudence sidled up to Margaret, who had stepped aside to allow Dorothea Greenwood a closer view of the caged birds. “I am surprised Sir James did not offer you a birdie or two,” she whispered.

Margaret shrugged. “He gave me and Mama each a sandalwood fan. Such a lovely scent. He is too much of a gentleman to embarrass me with lavish presents. After all, we are not betrothed.”

“Not yet,” Prudence whispered back. She silently acknowledged, for all his brash behavior, Sir James was indeed a gentleman. Later in the evening, as she allowed Aunt Judith’s maid to brush her hair before retiring to bed, Prudence also admitted—but only to herself—she was strangely attracted to the man. This private admission caused her to blush. It was a perplexing state of affairs.

Sir James was not handsome or attractive in any conventional way. His manner was much too blunt, and this he had even admitted himself. But he was interesting and amusing and although she would be embarrassed to say it aloud, she even found him to be an inspiring speaker.

Unlike her younger cousin, Prudence was not appalled or shocked by the narrative of his exploits in Borneo. She found them to be thrilling. She was even eager to hear more. When he’d shared his adventures, Prudence had been strangely stirred. She also felt a kind of longing—as palpable as hunger. All previous contempt and indignation she harbored for the man dissolved beneath the warmth of his smile, following his glowing narration.

Prudence went to bed in a mood of growing depression. As she snuggled beneath the coverlets, she made a mental list of the man’s many shortcomings—for her cousin’s benefit, of course. This occupied her for some restless time. Her last conscious thought before she finally succumbed to slumber was how the list of the man’s faults had proven to be astonishingly long.

****

The next morning, Prudence found herself alone at the breakfast table with Margaret, as Mrs. Leyes had requested a tray in her room. “I enjoyed dinner with the Brownells last night,” Prudence told her cousin. “Lady Eliza is a gracious hostess, and Sir James, as usual, was entertaining.”

“Yes, he is always entertaining,” Margaret replied in a hollow voice. “Even so, I do not wish to marry him. I’m counting on you to support me in this.”

Prudence fixed her attention upon a slice of toast, avoiding her cousin’s penetrating gaze. Swallowing, she said, “I did observe Aunt Judith and Lady Brownell with their heads together in the drawing room last evening before we took our leave. I could not help but wonder what they were discussing.”

“I fear they were scheming—again,” Margaret said, helping herself to the marmalade. “But they will not find me conformable, I promise you!” With a huff, she added, “Mama came to my room last night, again urging me to accept Sir James’s offer. She insisted if I do not, I will most certainly end up like—“

Margaret stopped abruptly, snapping her mouth shut while concentrating on her breakfast. She avoided her cousin’s wide-eyed stare.

“She meant me,” Prudence said, putting down her teacup. “Aunt Judith said you would end up like me—a spinster.”

The two cousins exchanged a poignant glance. Prudence was the first to look away.

Margaret leaned forward, her cheeks flushed with warmth. “Pru, if you could only discover something unsavory about Sir James, I am certain Mama would not force me to accept his offer.”

“Pooh! Your mother will not force you to accept any offer, if you do not truly wish it,” Prudence replied. “Aunt Judith is not an ogre. I believe she is convinced you do not know your own mind, Meg. You are not looking upon the proposed match in a reasonable light. You have not given her a good enough reason for not accepting the marriage proposal.”

“Find a skeleton in Sir James’s closet,” Margaret urged, ignoring her cousin’s lecturing.

Prudence decided to do so—if there was a skeleton to be discovered at all. She decided to do so not just for her cousin’s benefit, but to satisfy her own curiosity as well. When she accompanied her cousin and aunt to the Pump Room later in the morning, she was relieved to discover her friend Dorothea Greenwood there—alone. While Margaret and Aunt Judith encountered old friends, who’d just come down from London following the end of the Season, Prudence quickly darted away to have a solitary chat with Dorothea.

“I was hoping I might find you unattended,” Prudence declared, greeting her friend with a warm smile and taking the seat next to her. “I wanted to ask you about…” she hesitated, reluctant to appear as a scandalmonger. “I wanted to ask about your son’s relationship with Sir James.”

Momentarily surprised, Dorothea paused from sipping the warm mineral water from a small glass she held in one gloved hand. Then with a coy smile, she said, “Prudence, we are old friends. I believe you already know all you wish to know about the relationship between Arthur and Sir James. They are old school friends, as I told you. They have kept in touch through the years. Indeed, Sir James has frequently offered financial support for Arthur’s various charitable endeavors. I think perhaps you want to know about the man’s interest in your cousin Margaret.”

Prudence, not wanting to give away any secrets, simply asked, “Has Sir James shown a particular interest in my cousin Margaret?”

Dorothea lowered her lashes. “I am no longer a green girl, and I am quite observant. I believe he has shown a marked interest in Margaret these past several weeks. Does she fancy herself in love with him?”

“Not in the least,” Prudence replied, shoulders slumping. “And this is the problem. My aunt would welcome a match between them. She has invited me to Bath for the express purpose of encouraging my cousin to accept him as a suitor. On the other hand, Margaret wishes me to seek out a scandal involving Sir James so her mother might give up the notion.”

“Oh, I see,” Dorothea replied, nodding with understanding.

“I know I can trust you to be discreet,” Prudence went on. “I also know, as you have just said, you are an observant person. So I must ask if you have any reason to believe Margaret may have a
tendre
for someone?”

Dorothea arched her eyebrows. “I cannot say,” she admitted. “Since Arthur arrived with the purpose of recovering his health, I have not been out much, except for the occasional excursion here to the Pump Room and one or two private concerts and dinner parties. I have declined most of the invitations I’ve received so I might stay at home with Arthur and Eleanor.”

Prudence nodded, feeling mildly dismayed. Who else could she trust to be both open with her and discreet with others where Margaret was concerned?

“But if you are worried at all about Sir James being scandalous, you need not, I think,” Dorothea hastened to assure her. “I know he seems a devil-may-care individual, but he does not drink to excess nor does he gamble. Nor, from what I have heard, does he interest himself in…,” she paused, a frown crinkling her forehead.

Prudence chuckled. “I suppose you are going to tell me he shows no interest in the petticoat line.”

“Prudence!” Dorothea exclaimed, with a reproving frown. “Young ladies shouldn’t speak of such things.”

“I am hardly young any longer,” Prudence pointed out.

Dorothea rolled her eyes before saying, “For all his brusque ways, Sir James is an honorable man with a passion for missions. He spoke quite ardently on the subject at our church service a few months ago. He plans to take a missionary back to Borneo with him when he returns. Arthur thinks the world of him. I must admit the man has been so kind and considerate these past weeks, taking Arthur to the baths and sending Lady Brownell’s physician to look in on him now and again.”

At that moment, Prudence noticed the arrival of Sir James and his mother. Sitting up straighter in her chair, she watched several people move forward to greet the newcomers. Glancing around, Prudence leaned closer to Dorothea, asking, “What do you know of Stalwood? Is the estate in disrepair? Margaret says Sir James is spending quite a lot of money seeing to the roof and the drains.”

Dorothea chuckled softly. “The estate is quite fine indeed. Lady Brownell resides there when she is not in Bath. Sir James is wealthy, as you must know. He can afford to keep his place just the way it should be. As Arthur would say, the man is in the lard—so he can afford to be both charitable and a good steward of his properties.”

Prudence sighed. No scandal. No skeleton in the closet. On the one hand, she felt pleased by the good report about Sir James. On the other hand, she knew it would not please her cousin, who was seeking any excuse to reject the gentleman’s marriage proposal.

“If Sir James is indeed pursuing Margaret with marriage in mind, and she is reluctant to accept him, I do not see how you can be expected to persuade her,” Dorothea said, taking another stoic sip of the celebrated waters.

Watching her, Prudence wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know either. My aunt seems to think I can and should do something to influence Margaret’s decision. Meg is not a stubborn girl, but she will not be pushed,” Prudence told her. She thought again of the ounce or two of steel James had mentioned previously. “If the truth be told, I do not like to meddle and would not have Meg marry a man she could not love.”

“When it comes right down to it, your aunt would not want that either,” Dorothea assured her. “Can you not influence Margaret without meddling?”

“But how?”

“I don’t know,” Dorothea confessed. “I shall have to think upon the matter.”

Prudence shrugged, recalling what her aunt had confided regarding her late uncle’s gambling debts. If Margaret was told of this shameful situation, she would submit to her mother’s wishes, Prudence felt certain. Margaret was not unreasonable. She was responsible and proud. Wasn’t she?

Glancing across the room at her cousin, Prudence noticed how James had made his way to her cousin’s side. When he spoke something in Margaret’s ear, which made her cousin laugh, Prudence felt a stab of curiosity. She felt something else too she couldn’t quite identify, something dangerously akin to jealousy. What had the man said to amuse Margaret so?

“Dorothea, did you know my Uncle Giles at all well?” Prudence asked, pulling her gaze away from the conversing couple.

“Not as well as I know your aunt. Mr. Leyes seldom attended church services. Nor was he active in any benevolent societies your aunt and I participate in. I saw him occasionally at the theater or other social functions. That is all.”

“I realize now I did not know my uncle well either,” Prudence told her.

Dorothea regarded her with some sympathy. “You must have become recently aware of his excessive gambling.”

Prudence stiffened. “You knew? Is it not dreadful? Are you shocked? I certainly am.”

“Everyone knew, I fear,” Dorothea said with a sad shake of her head.

“Margaret does not know,” Prudence contradicted. “Aunt Judith told me there are debts yet to be paid.” She’d hesitated briefly before admitting this, but she’d only promised her aunt not to discuss the fact with Margaret. Dorothea was a close and trustworthy friend. Prudence knew she could rely on her discretion.

“I am sorry to hear it, but I am not surprised,” Dorothea replied. “Unfortunately, gaming is popular with so many gentlemen. I imagine many of them have debts to pay also. Sadly, it is the state of morals in our country.”

“Please, say nothing of this to Margaret,” Prudence asked. “And do not mention to my aunt we have discussed the matter.”

“Dear Pru, you can trust me,” Dorothea assured her, giving Prudence’s arm a gentle squeeze.

Prudence nodded her thanks. “So, now you may understand why Aunt Judith wants to encourage Margaret to marry Sir James.” In a lower voice, she added, “If Margaret accepts his hand in marriage, he has kindly offered to settle all of Uncle Giles’s debts, which apparently are considerable.”

“So there has been an offer!” Dorothea exclaimed quietly, her eyes sparkling. “How romantic! And how kind of Sir James! I told you he was a good man. It is only natural he would wish to free Margaret and her mother from any financial encumbrances. He is so generous.”

“Still, I am loath to push Margaret into a marriage with a man she cannot love,” Prudence insisted.

“Cannot or does not? There is a difference,” her friend pointed out. “Perhaps in time she will come to love him. All marriages are not love matches, as you must know. Many couples marry for convenience sake. Later, they learn to love one another in a romantic way.”

Before Prudence could respond, Mr. Benedict Younghughes approached. He had been hovering nearby for some time, and Prudence had been attempting
not
to catch his glance. But when she looked up momentarily to see what James and Margaret were doing, her eyes locked with Mr. Younghughes’s. He straightened, striding forward to greet her. No—he did not stride. He lurched toward her on thin, bowed legs. The gentleman was known about Bath for his eccentric interest in fossils, geology, and natural history. He had a broad forehead, a bold nose, and a small button of a mouth which seemed permanently puckered when he did not smile. He had a mild squint too, and his receding chin appeared to simply drop off his face. His thinning hair was sticky with pomade, and as he was not a tall man, one could not help but smell its sickly sweet aroma.

Prudence clasped Dorothea by the wrist, giving it a firm squeeze. “Mr. Younghughes,” she hissed, hoping her old friend would not desert her now. She didn’t want to be left alone with the man. Prudence had long suspected the eccentric scholar had a special interest in her. He always made an effort to seek her out at various social events and often called upon her when she visited her aunt in Bath. Usually, she made an effort to avoid him. But now, having been accosted by him in the public Pump Room, civility demanded she speak with him.

“Good morning, Miss Pentyre. How nice to see you again,” he said, executing a slight bow. “And you as well, Mrs. Greenwood.” Turning again to Prudence, he went on, “I had heard you were visiting Bath once again and had determined to call upon you at your aunt’s home as soon as possible. But,” he raised both hands in a gesture of delight, “but here you are!”

“Yes, here I am,” Prudence replied, mustering a polite smile.

“If I may say so, you are looking in high bloom too.” His small button mouth puckered with pleasure. “Don’t you agree, Mrs. Greenwood?"

“I said so myself just the other day,” Dorothea replied, giving Prudence a teasing glance.

As the color crept warmly into her cheeks, Prudence hastened to change the subject. “So tell us, Mr. Younghughes, have you added any new specimens to your diverse collection of fossils and natural wonders?”

Younghughes nodded vigorously. “Yes, indeed! A stuffed camel, as a matter of fact. Perhaps you will do me the honor of taking tea with me some afternoon so I might show it off to you? Mrs. Greenwood, I will invite you as well, if you are interested in such things. And we shall invite Mrs. Leyes and Miss Margaret Leyes too.”

His glance strayed then toward Margaret, who was still conversing in a surprisingly animated fashion with Sir James. Younghughes lowered his voice, saying, “I have noticed recently how your cousin has attracted the gentleman’s most particular attention.” He indicated Brownell with a tilt of his small chin.

Prudence hesitated, exchanging a warning glance with Dorothea. “I cannot say, having only recently arrived in Bath,” she answered.

“I admit I do not care for the man. Too much bravado,” Younghughes said with a disapproving sniff. “He does not so much smile as he bares his teeth at one. I sometimes suppose he is gnashing his teeth at me.” He appeared to shudder.

“Oh no, Mr. Younghughes, you cannot mean it!” Dorothea declared with an amused titter.

Prudence, who had never tittered in her life, merely frowned at him. She was surprised by Mr. Younghughes’s animosity. Aunt Judith had assured her James was popular with everyone in Bath society. Her glance strayed once again in his direction. She didn’t think James was so bad. He did not gnash his teeth. He had a nice smile actually—a transforming smile. It made him appear so much younger and more amiable.