Prudence Pursued

by Shirley Raye Redmond

  “I understand he intends to take a wife too, or so Lady Eliza has told me,” Aunt Judith threw in, casting a poignant glance at her daughter.

  A heavy silence followed this casual announcement. Prudence glanced first at Margaret and then at Clarissa. How much had her cousin confided in her closest friend, Prudence wondered?

  Clearing her throat, Prudence asked, “And does Sir James intend to take his bride with him back to the jungles of Borneo?”

  After a rather uncomfortable pause, Harry answered in a nonchalant manner, “I believe so. But I cannot say for sure. I am not in his confidence.”

  Prudence looked down at her fingers, laced so tightly together in her lap the knuckles appeared white. She took a deep breath and unclasped her hands. If Margaret were to marry Sir James, she would presumably become the Rani of Sarawak. She tried to imagine Margaret living in a palace of bamboo, surrounded by a dense jungle with lurking crocodiles and dark-eyed headhunters. Her cousin would definitely need every ounce of steel she could muster.

  Chapter Four

  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 w
ill 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.”