Prudence Pursued (16 page)

“You will be careful, won’t you, my dears?” Judith implored, her voice almost shrill with anxiety. “Picnics can be potentially dangerous. You could catch your deaths sitting on the damp ground.”

Prudence, tying the red ribbons of her wide brimmed bonnet beneath her chin, replied with a light laugh, “Aunt Judith, please do not worry. The weather is quite warm, and we will be sure to sit upon the blanket.”

“But what if there should be a sudden rain?” her aunt asked. “A wet chill can do irreparable damage to weak lungs.”

“I do not have weak lungs,” Prudence assured her. “Surely you do not, Meg?”

“No indeed,” her cousin spoke up as she tugged on her pale lavender gloves. Prudence admired them prodigiously and was tempted to buy a pair for herself before leaving Bath. “Besides, the day promises to be fair, Mama,” Margaret assured her nervous parent. “There is not a cloud in the sky.”

“There are other dangers to be considered besides the weather,” Judith said, in an ominous tone.

“True, but should any highwaymen be abroad at this hour of the day, you can trust Harry Paige and his friend Mr. Ludlow to look to our safety,” Margaret replied lightly.

“And Sir James too, of course,” Prudence threw in. “He’ll run the blackguards through with his walking stick or plant them a facer. Maybe both.” She chuckled, amused by the ridiculous scenario she’d conjured.

Judith gave a gasp of exasperation and flapped a dismissive hand. “Pshah! I do not consider highwaymen to be of any concern—not so close to Bath in any case. But there will certainly be wild animals upon Little Solsbury Hill.”

“Without a doubt,” Prudence agreed. “We could be stung to death by bees.”

“Bitten by ants,” Margaret added, with a sly smile for her cousin.

“Not to mention foxes — most certainly rabid ones.” Prudence shrugged. “Fierce badgers too. Don’t forget those. And what about buzzards, Meg? Are there any nesting buzzards on the Hill?”

Margaret faked a shudder. “Oh, yes. They might swoop down and peck out our eyes. Or perhaps they shall eat our livers, like that poor man Promiscuous in Greek mythology.”

“His name was Prometheus,” Prudence corrected with a snort of laughter. “He was attacked by an eagle, I believe.”

“I’ve never heard of eagles on Little Solsbury Hill, Pru. We need not worry about them, I’m sure.” Noting her mother’s face, crunched in a fierce frown, Margaret laughed and gave Judith a quick hug. “Please do not fret, Mama. We will be fine. It is a delightful day for a picnic expedition.”

While Aunt Judith tut-tutted her daughter’s silliness and cautioned her yet again about the dangers abounding in nature, Prudence hid a smile as she glanced out the front window. She felt aglow with anticipation, delighted to be wearing her favorite summer straw hat, with its cluster of imitation cherries and matching red ribbons. In it, she felt rather festive. She knew her aunt would prefer to stay at home, lying upon her couch, clasping her smelling salts to her bosom in one hand and a crumpled linen handkerchief in the other. But not Prudence! She was eager to embark on the adventure. She loved picnics—more so than dances and card parties, she had to admit.

As she wondered how all the ladies could fit comfortably inside Dorothea’s carriage, Prudence caught sight of Lady Brownell’s blue barouche pulling up to the curb. She had not anticipated taking the short journey in the luxurious conveyance. Still, it would be a squeeze with Dorothea, Lady Brownell, Clarissa, Eleanor, Margaret and herself all traveling together in the same vehicle.

“Meg, they are here,” she called over her shoulder. She noted Harry Paige and his friend Mr. Ludlow on horseback, but felt a sharp pang of regret that James was not with them. Neither was Arthur Greenwood, as far as she could tell. Surely the two men were not riding in the barouche? They must have decided not to come after all. She swallowed back her disappointment as she planted a kiss upon her aunt’s cheek, bidding her good-bye and imploring her not to fret in their absence.

After Margaret did the same, they opened the front door and descended the steps together. Prudence, casting a glance in Robert Ludlow’s direction, whispered, “I see Mr. Ludlow is to accompany us today. He seems a personable young man. He sits his horse well too. Does he come to Bath often?” She glanced sidelong at Margaret, hoping to note some telltale sign of emotion.

With a gleam in her eye Prudence could not quite decipher, Margaret replied briskly, “No, he comes only occasionally to visit his grandmother, Mrs. Sarah Ludlow,” Margaret said. “Or so Clarissa told me. The woman is elderly and an invalid, but Mr. Ludlow is quite fond of her, Harry says.”

Harry dismounted to help Prudence into the carriage and then did the same for Margaret. Prudence was mildly surprised to discover only Clarissa and Eleanor inside waiting for them. Had the other members of the party also begged off? “Do sit beside me, Prudence,” Eleanor said, smiling. She patted the seat her with a gloved hand and moved her skirt aside, making room for her friend.

“Where is Dorothea?” Prudence asked, settling herself and adjusting her bonnet. Disappointment began to seep through her veins. She told herself firmly it had nothing to do with the absence of Sir James. “Was she not planning to come with us today?”

“Yes, she had planned to do so, but she received unexpected callers this morning—old and dear friends from London,” Eleanor explained. “She said she knew you would understand and begged you might visit with her tomorrow at your leisure.”

“Lady Brownell cried off at the last minute too,” Clarissa said, anticipating Prudence’s next question.

“And Sir James as well?” Prudence asked, keeping her voice cool and indifferent.

Eleanor received this question with a broad smile. “They will join us, certainly. Arthur and Sir James rode out of town as soon as they were mounted. I think they were both eager for a break-neck gallop. Bath is not conducive to horseback riding, with all its narrow cobblestone streets. At least, that’s what Arthur says. They will meet us at the foot of the Hill.”

“Harry and Mr. Ludlow offered to serve as our escorts,” Clarissa added.

Prudence thought the girl seemed particularly lovely this morning in a peach colored gown with a ruffled flounce. Glancing across at her cousin, who was seated next to Clarissa, Prudence could not help but wonder if Margaret, her attention now fixed out the window, ever felt jealous of her pretty friend? It would only be natural if she did, Prudence supposed. Margaret was plain, as she was herself, and she was never more aware of it than when in company with more attractive females.

“Miss Leyes, I suppose you could not convince your mother to join us after all?” Eleanor asked politely. Her merry brown eyes twinkled as though she already anticipated a humorous answer to her question.

Prudence and Margaret exchanged amused glances. “Mama believes it is far too dangerous to venture out to Little Solsbury Hill today or any other day,” Margaret replied gaily.

“Dangerous?” Clarissa queried, arching her eyebrows. “Little Solsbury Hill?”

“Yes, most certainly,” Prudence said with a mock frown. “Stinging bees, rabid foxes, biting ants, attacking badgers.”

“Not to mention the damp, the rain, and the chill wind,” Margaret threw in.

Clarissa and Eleanor laughed. The topic of conversation then shifted to a new play, which had recently opened, and Thursday night’s upcoming dance at the Assembly Rooms.

Uninterested in either event, Prudence leaned forward to peer out the carriage window. She smothered a sigh as she caught a glimpse of Robert Ludlow, with his shaggy thatch of pale hair and lean, straight back. He did indeed look well on horseback. She wished she been afforded the opportunity to ride as well. At home, she rode nearly every day—often executing errands for her mother or father throughout the parish. More often, she rode for pleasure. She had her own saddle horse named Buttercup. How she missed her!

Her aunt, Prudence understood, was hardly in a position to equip her with a mount while she visited in Bath. And besides, as Eleanor had already noted, the city was not a place where one could enjoy a long, leisurely ride, not with all the steep, cobblestone streets. Sitting back against the cushions, Prudence made up her mind that nothing should spoil this day—even her longing for dear old Buttercup. The sky appeared intensely blue today. The light breeze felt pleasant upon her face. There was no appearance whatsoever of threatening rain clouds Aunt Judith had insisted might ruin the outing.

As Eleanor had promised, James and Arthur were waiting for them when they arrived at the foot of Little Solsbury Hill. The men had already dismounted and were laughing over some private joke or amusing incident. Prudence happily noted how both of them looked healthy and fit. The color had returned to Arthur’s face. He appeared fully recovered from his debilitating bout with influenza. James was not limping as he had been when she first met him, although she guessed his injury would affect him now and then when he was tired or perhaps when the weather turned particularly cold. But Prudence knew a man like James would hardly let it bother him one way or the other.

He no longer wore the romantic but disreputable eye patch either, she noted. The scar appeared to be healing and no longer seemed as raw and tender as it did on the day they went to Lady Richmond’s school for girls. Prudence thought Sir James’s face an honest one and ruggedly handsome, particularly when he smiled, as he did so now.

The smile lit his eyes too as he helped her out of the carriage. “Good morning, Miss Pentyre,” James greeted her. “Are you looking forward to our trek up the Hill?”

“Indeed, I am,” she replied. “I believe we will be afforded an impressive panoramic view when we reach the top, or so I am told. I only hope we do not encounter any of the many dangers my aunt warned us about.” When he gave her a puzzled frown, she blithely repeated the list, from stinging bees to deadly chills. “As you might imagine, Aunt Judith refused to accompany us, preferring the safety of her couch,” she added, her lips twitching.

“I believe Margaret will be much like her mother one day,” James replied in a quiet aside, leading her away from the carriage.

Mildly disapproving, Prudence said, “How can you say so?” She glanced over her shoulder, watching Harry as he assisted first his sister and then Margaret to climb down from the carriage.

“Do you doubt it?” James challenged. “I have noticed how young females often become like their mothers as they grow older.”

“Then you are well out of it, are you not?” Prudence snapped in a low but peevish tone. “You would not want a sickly wife always hovering on the brink of collapse as your wedded
rani
.”

James lowered his head and shook it slowly. Prudence thought he might be fighting laughter, but did not know why he should do so. There was nothing amusing in the least about his unfair assessment of her cousin’s personality. “Indeed, I do not want a sickly wife,” he replied in a quiet, controlled voice. “I am more grateful than I can say that Margaret so resolutely rejected my offer, and so I’ve told myself on any number of occasions since that day.”

Upon hearing this, Prudence found herself experiencing a conflict of emotions. She was both amused and indignant by the man’s careless dismissal of his rejected marriage proposal. She found she was also a little hopeful. Did she dare to permit herself to even consider that perspective? When Prudence recalled what Lady Brownell had told her about her son’s loneliness, she silently prayed James was not secretly nursing a broken heart. It still touched a tender part of her own whenever she considered the possibility. She knew all to well what it was like to be lonely. She had always hastened to brush aside such feelings, however, reminding herself there were worse things one could suffer from. Being blind or crippled, for instance. Or being all alone in the world without loving parents and siblings.

With a slight bow, James turned away from her then to chastise Arthur for trying to lift down the picnic hamper by himself. “Arthur, you escort your wife up the Hill. Harry and I will manage the hamper between us, won’t we, Harry?”

The younger man nodded, hurrying forward to lend a hand. Prudence was pleasantly surprised when Robert Ludlow approached her with shy deference, offering his arm to her. “It is a bit of a climb, Miss Pentyre. I hope you will not find it too strenuous. But I can assure you the view from the top is well worth the effort.”

Torn between amusement and dismay, Prudence could only surmise that Mr. Ludlow had guessed her age to be far more considerable than it was. Realizing, however, she was in fact the eldest female in the picnic party, she bared her teeth at him, saying in a tight voice, “I shall manage, Mr. Ludlow.” Nonetheless, she accepted his arm with dutiful politeness.

“They say King Arthur once did battle here against the Saxons,” Ludlow said and proceeded to share his knowledge on the subject with her.

While James and Harry hauled the hamper up the Hill, Clarissa and Margaret scampered after them like two lively young colts. The Greenwoods, their arms linked, followed at a more leisurely pace. Prudence, bringing up the rear with young Ludlow, soon found herself enjoying walking in his company, particularly when she discovered they shared a common outrage in the East India Company’s refusal to grant licenses to missionaries hoping to bring the gospel to India.

“Miss Pentyre, please believe me when I say I am not a cultural imperialist, but someone must put an end to those wretched pagan practices, such as burning widows upon their husbands’ funeral pyres. Some of those poor condemned widows are little more than girls!” Ludlow’s face flushed with righteous indignation.

“I could not agree more,” Prudence replied warmly. She had deplored the practice of
suttee
from the first moment she learned of it from one of her father’s military acquaintances. “Perhaps with Mr. Wilberforce’s support, we can convince the government to allow the introduction of Christian missionaries to India in the near future.”

The two continued their animated conversation until they reached the top of the hill. Once there Prudence, admittedly breathless, enjoyed the impressive views of Bath and the Avon River. She tilted her head back, closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh summer air. It was such an achingly lovely day. She longed to preserve the perfection in a jar, rather like peach jam, to open and enjoy on some dismal winter day in the not-so-distant future. She nurtured only a slight concern Margaret might appear standoffish around James or that Arthur Greenwood might easily exhaust himself from the exertion of marching up and down the hill. But neither of these niggling concerns came to fruition, for which Prudence felt immensely thankful.