Prudence Pursued (13 page)

“He said he quite understood and he was well aware from the beginning how my feelings were not engaged. He said he did not wish to cause me any distress, that we should consider the matter at an end,” Margaret rambled on in breathless spurts. “Then he thanked me — he thanked me, Pru — for giving his proposal a moment’s consideration at all!”

“So noble,” Prudence murmured.

“It’s all for the best, I suppose.” Shrugging, Margaret raised her eyes to Prudence’s face. A frown pinched her brow into a pucker. “I feel strangely flat. Should I not feel giddy with relief? Do you suppose I have made a mistake?”

Scowling, Prudence replied tartly, “Haven’t Aunt Judith and I been telling you all along, rejecting his suit would be a mistake? Of course you made a mistake, Meg! A bridegroom in the hand is worth two in the proverbial bush, as you must know.”

“I confess to feeling somewhat guilty now that it is over and done with.” Margaret announced this in an unsuitably cheerful manner. “I wonder why?”

“Perhaps you admire Sir James more than you realize,” Prudence suggested.

“Do you think so?” Margaret asked.

“I do.”

“He was always kind to me in his gruff way,” Margaret acknowledged. “He has a most engaging smile too, do you not think so?”

Feeling oddly stricken, Prudence opened her mouth to say reply, but before she could say a word, Margaret held up an imploring hand. “Please, no reproaches. I daresay Mama will have plenty of her own.”

Shaking her head, Prudence cleared her throat, saying, “No reproaches, Meg. I promise.” When her cousin sighed heavily, Prudence went on, “But don’t look to me in the future for sympathy or understanding. You had a golden opportunity to become a rich baroness. You spurned Sir James, and now you must hope another will one day take notice of you—and make an offer of marriage. Otherwise you shall…” Prudence left her statement unfinished. She fought back a sudden urge to cry.

The two lapsed into a pensive silence. A short while later, when Margaret repeated it all again for her mother’s benefit, Judith listened with a quaking hand resting upon her heaving bosom. “Did I not tell you he was a gentleman?” she asked, sighing. “He did not play the role of ruffian, did he?”

Margaret appeared sheepish. “No indeed, he was excessively polite. He kissed my hand and said he agreed we would not suit after all, but hoped we could at least remain friends. He was all consideration.”

Prudence exchanged a poignant glance with her distraught aunt. Judith, sniffing, fumbled for her handkerchief. “Most gracious,” she murmured.

“Quite, “Prudence agreed, patting her cousin’s hand.

Rising, Margaret half sobbed, “I believe I shall retire to my room to bathe my face. I admit I cried a little. He was so kind and understanding.” She kissed her mother’s pale cheek, saying in a shy way, “Thank you, Mama. I know it is not what you wished.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She darted from the room before the tears could spill down her cheeks.

Prudence, watching her cousin’s hasty departure, accepted the dismal realization there would be no more lively visits from Sir James. The man would keep his promise not to pursue his suit with Margaret. She realized too she might not see him again—except from a distance—during the remainder of her visit in Bath. But surely this was not why she felt so low? For what was Sir James to her, after all? No doubt her low spirits stemmed from a feeling of guilt for having let her aunt down. Turning to Judith, Prudence said as much.

“No, my dear,” her aunt reassured her. “You must not reproach yourself nor will I scold you. Margaret had made up her mind, I daresay, before you even arrived. She simply didn’t have the courage to confide in me. She had lost her heart to someone else, and I had no idea of it. I doubt anyone could have persuaded her to accept Sir James’s offer.”

“Thank you, Aunt Judith,” she replied but did not feel any great sense of relief as she’d hoped.

“Perhaps Eliza and I should not have attempted to play Cupid,” her aunt went on. “But we are mothers after all and only wanted the best for our children. It can certainly not be wondered at.”

“Of course not,” Prudence agreed, giving her aunt an understanding smile.

Leaning forward in her chair, Judith said in a low voice, “Prudence, if I tell you something, you will not breathe a word of it to either Margaret or Lady Brownell, will you? Indeed, I hope you will not speak of it at all.”

Both mystified and curious, Prudence promised, “I won’t speak a word. What is troubling you?”

“I believe Sir James bungled it on purpose!” She nodded her head once or twice in a most emphatic way. “I feel certain he did not take the time to woo Margaret properly. Why, he proposed much too hastily! Margaret barely had time to make his acquaintance. With a little more consideration of her youth and inexperience, he could have succeeded perhaps. But he did not, and I feel certain he knew he would not.” Judith flushed and her eyes snapped with anger.

Prudence arched her brows. “How can you say so? Margaret’s refusal seemed a blow to his manly pride.”

“I am glad of it,” her aunt went on, in a huff. “I do not pity him.”

After a moment’s pause to consider this unexpected idea, Prudence said, “Regardless, it is over now, Aunt Judith. I am no expert in matters of the heart, so I couldn’t say if Sir James knew what he was doing or not.”

Sighing, Judith admitted, “Neither am I. But the more I reflect upon it, the more I think Sir James, in a pigheaded way, agreed to pursue Margaret’s hand in marriage simply to pacify Eliza. I do not believe he wanted to propose to Margaret at all.”

Prudence clutched her unsteady hands together in her lap. What if her aunt’s suspicions were well founded? Had James, simply to please his mother, proposed marriage to an eligible female he felt certain would refuse his offer? By doing so, he would appear obedient to his mother’s wishes and mindful of his responsibilities to settle down and provide an heir. It would afford him a certain peace of mind, she supposed. Yes, it was an interesting supposition.

****

Over the next few days, Prudence watched Margaret closely to see if her cousin appeared to nurse secret misgivings about turning down Brownell’s suit. It did not seem so. Out from under the cloud of her recent dismay, Margaret appeared to bloom. She seemed more like her usual self than she’d been since Prudence’s arrival.

Margaret was, however, reluctant to join the usual parade at the Pump Room for fear of encountering James, and she refused to accompany her mother on her daily outing. Prudence, not wishing to encounter Benedict Younghughes there either, readily proposed other pursuits, such as taking Eleanor Greenwood to her favorite Bath milliner, as she’d promised to do. This delightful shopping expedition was followed by another like it, this time to fill a few commissions for Prudence’s mother, who had written requesting her daughter to purchase on her behalf a new pair of gloves and several ells of muslin.

The summer weather had finally become seasonably warm, and Prudence enjoyed being outside, particularly strolling with Margaret and Clarissa in Sydney Gardens. As Bath also had a bustling shopping district, dotted with many fine bakeries and other establishments offering a wide variety of culinary delights, Prudence believed eating, walking and eating some more was a fine way to spend a summer day.

On one occasion, while Margaret paid for some frippery she’d decided to purchase on impulse, Clarissa sidled over to Prudence, whispering, “She confided in me yesterday she has rejected Sir James’s suit.”

“It is true,” Prudence replied with quiet acknowledgement. “Did you mention it to your brother by chance?”

The two exchanged a poignant glance. “I did actually,” Clarissa admitted. “He merely said, ‘Indeed?’ Nothing more.”

“Then we must wait and see,” Prudence told her.

When Prudence and Margaret did return to the society of the Pump Room after several days absence, James, who was in attendance with the Greenwoods, quaffing glasses of the foul tasting mineral water, did not embarrass Margaret by snubbing her or acting in any way as though she’d spurned his suit. Prudence watched him carefully during the promenade, looking for any indication he might actually be nursing a broken heart — giving lie to what he’d told her about his emotions not being involved. Prudence wanted to be certain. For all she knew, he was gallantly concealing his emotional vulnerability. It was possible he had been more smitten with Margaret than he cared to admit. She had to be certain he was not. After an hour or more, Prudence sent up a silent prayer of gratitude, convinced James appeared to be his usual, boisterous self.

As she spoke with Eleanor Greenwood regarding the title of a book she hoped to obtain from the circulating library, Prudence observed the arrival of Benedict Younghughes. She squelched a craven impulse to flee the room.

“I believe we are soon to be joined by Mr. Younghughes,” Eleanor observed.

Stricken, Prudence watched the man lurch across the room toward them with eager intent. “Eleanor, under no circumstances are you to leave me alone with him,” Prudence warned, clutching her friend by the elbow.

“Are you certain?” Eleanor asked, a hint of laughter in her voice. “He has a warm regard for you, I think.”

“Too warm, if you ask me!” Prudence replied tartly. She forced a polite smile, determined to greet the man with civility.

Mr. Younghughes, with eyes gleaming, stretched his small mouth into a rigid smile. “Mrs. Greenwood, how nice to see you. And Miss Pentyre, at last! Is not the weather fine?”

Prudence murmured some trivial comment about summer sunshine while Eleanor reminded the gentleman that he and Mr. Hunter had promised to take her husband on a ramble along the river. “Arthur would so love to discover a fossil of his own,” she said, earning a smile of gratitude from Prudence, who was delighted to see the conversation take this harmless course.

“I’ve not forgotten, Mrs. Greenwood,” Younghughes assured her with a nod.

“You should set a time between you as soon as possible,” Eleanor went on. “Arthur is getting stronger every day. We shall be leaving Bath in the next week or two. I am anxious to see my little son again,” and to Prudence, she added, “and to see him safely vaccinated against the smallpox. Arthur told me Sir James is procuring the necessary lymph for us to take with us.”

Younghughes choked back a gasp. In mortified tones, he exclaimed, “Mrs. Greenwood, surely you will not allow diseased animal matter to be forced into your small child’s healthy body? It is despicable!”

“It is my understanding the cowpox is quite safe,” Eleanor hastened to assure him. “Why, Sir James Brownell has…”

Younghughes did not allow her to finish her statement. Chidingly, he said, “Ma’am, I beg you to be reasonable. What you contemplate is dangerous.”

Prudence bit her lip and remained silent as Mr. Younghughes continued to argue against Jenner’s procedure. After enduring a rising indignation, she could remain silent no longer. “Nonsense!” she declared. “The smallpox vaccine is a Godsend.”

“How can you, a vicar’s daughter, say such a thing?” he asked, appalled. “Have you not considered it is perhaps God’s will that some people should suffer and die from the disease?”

“I’ve never considered such a thing at all,” Prudence replied acidly. “If the Lord wanted people to suffer with illness, He wouldn’t have spent so much time healing the sick and infirm while He walked the earth,” she replied with feeling. “I have been vaccinated with the cowpox vaccine some years ago and as you can see, I have had no ill effects. I’ve even assisted my father in performing the procedure upon members of his parish.”

Aghast, Younghughes took a half step backwards. “Have you no scruples, Miss Pentyre?”

“Not in this matter. Do you?” Prudence challenged, a hard glint in her eye.

“Indeed,” he answered warmly. “I wonder why Brownell should involve himself with such…such atrocities?”

“I fear your concern is misplaced, Mr. Younghughes,” Eleanor hastened to assure him. “Sir James has administered the vaccine numerous times with great success. Why he and Miss Pentyre did so at Lady Richmond’s School for Young Ladies only a short while ago.”

Younghughes puckered his mouth into a disapproving knot. He fixed Prudence with an incredulous stare. “You accompanied Sir James alone on this journey—just the two of you?”

“Lady Eliza had a prior commitment. My aunt could hardly join us as she was needed to stay at home with my cousin Margaret, who has recently undergone the procedure herself.”

“Do you not wonder, Miss Pentyre, why Brownell should wish to pollute the bodies of healthy children with diseased animal matter? Should we not question his motives?”

Prudence now felt a fury of indignation. “Perhaps you do not know the school is one of Lady Eliza Brownell’s charitable causes. The headmistress requested the procedure be performed on the students there, so Sir James offered to administer the vaccine.”

“I can only suppose Lady Brownell has been misguided by her son. After all, the man has spent a great deal of time with seaman, heathens and other foreigners. One cannot expect him to remain morally unmarked by these associations.” Younghughes took a breath. “But you, Miss Pentyre, I am surprised you would support him in this task. I cannot imagine what your aunt was thinking to permit you to gallivant about the countryside with Sir James—alone.” Lowering his voice, he asked, “If they learn of this, what will people think?”

“I don’t care what they may think!” Prudence snapped at him. A tumult of emotions stirred her to a hot temper. “You, Mr. Younghughes, you call yourself a man of science. You should have a more open mind. You must consider the benefits and the successful results of the cowpox vaccine.”

He frowned. “I fear you have fallen under his spell. Both of you,” he added, including Eleanor in his censure. “I told Miss Pentyre not many days ago that Sir James Brownell is a dangerous man.”

Prudence replied in a quiet but seething undertone, “Your stupidity amazes me, Mr. Younghughes.” With a short, brittle laugh, she spun away from him, tugging Eleanor, wide-eyed and uncomfortable, along as she went, leaving Benedict Younghughes to stare after them, mouth agape.

Walking briskly, she finally released Eleanor from her clutch, saying in a sheepish manner, “I have a hateful temper. It is my besetting sin. I am sorry I have embarrassed you. My mother says my unruly tongue is the reason I am not yet married and never will be. I must learn to be more temperate, I know.”

Ignoring her friend’s heartfelt confession, Eleanor replied, “Perhaps I should speak with Sir James about the vaccine—just to be certain.”

“Yes, let’s do,” Prudence interrupted. “I see him over there speaking with Mr. and Mrs. Winterhalter. Arthur is with them as well.” She knew if anyone could reassure Eleanor Greenwood about the safety and wisdom of Jenner’s lifesaving procedure—other than herself—it was Sir James. He would not let her down.