“Well, the thing is done, Pru. I sent out the invitations as soon as I knew you were coming to Bath. There will be only twenty-four of us—unless you would like me to invite Mr. Younghughes as well.” Judith quirked a brow. Her eyes appeared to gleam with hopefulness.
“That won’t be necessary,” Prudence replied stiffly. “And if there is anything I can do to assist you, you have but to ask. I am more than willing to relieve you of as many of the tasks of entertaining as you would wish.”
Her aunt thanked her and took her place behind the desk, fixing her skewed cap as she did so. Prudence left in search of Margaret. Duty compelled her to relate where she had gone and what she had done with Sir James during the earlier part of the day. She discovered her elusive cousin in the small salon where Prudence frequently retreated to write letters. Margaret slumped rather listlessly upon the small sofa nearest the hearth. A small fire crackled there.
“Oh, here you are, Meg. I must tell you about my mission of mercy, as Sir James called it.” She took a seat in the chair nearest the blaze.
As Prudence related a lively narrative of the day’s events, careful to omit any unseemly personal feelings about the man and how much she’d enjoyed his company, Margaret eyed her in such a way Prudence felt like a rare object of curiosity.
“What is it, Meg? Have I sprouted horns? Do I have a third eye in the middle of my forehead?” she demanded.
“No, of course not,” Margaret answered peevishly. “You speak of what you did at the school as though it had been pleasurable and not a duty or obligation. Your eyes are positively glowing.”
“I did enjoy myself immensely,” Prudence confessed. It was all too true. In fact, if she considered carefully, she felt certain she could include this day as one of the most wonderful days of her life. She refrained from sharing such an intensely personal observation with her cousin.
“I accompanied Sir James because I considered it my Christian duty to do so, but still I enjoyed the task. He was surprisingly gentle with the pupils—all girls. You should have seen him, Meg. He shall make a wonderful father, I think. He had such a pleasing, coaxing manner I needn’t have taken Mrs. Higginbottom’s treacle candy at all. But you mustn’t tell her I said so,” she added with a wink.
Unexpectedly, Margaret’s face showed every sign of crumpling into tears.
“Good heavens! Meg, what is the matter?” Prudence asked, vacating her chair to kneel beside her distraught cousin. She clasped Margaret’s hands comfortingly between her own.
“Oh, Pru I’m so unhappy. I’m in such a predicament,” she wailed. “I DON’T want to marry Sir James.”
For a brief moment, Prudence closed her eyes. On the one hand, she felt exasperated. On the other, she felt the stirrings of elation, followed by a sharp pang of guilt. Lord, give me wisdom, she silently implored.
“I don’t know what to do,” Margaret went on with a watery sniff.
“It will practically kill Aunt Judith if you don’t accept him,” Prudence said. When her cousin’s mouth gaped, she added, “There is more at stake than you realize.”
“Such as?” Margaret dabbed at her eyes with a crumbled linen handkerchief.
“I cannot tell you. I promised Aunt Judith I would not.”
Prudence found herself in a turmoil of mixed emotions. She knew the match between Margaret and James would please so many people. But deep down, although she didn’t dare acknowledge it, even to herself, there was a small forbidden thought she would be greatly relieved if Margaret did indeed turn down his offer. Still, she had her duty, and she would do it. She was, if nothing else, dutiful. It was a virtue, wasn’t it, to fulfill one’s duty? Prudence had always wondered why dutifulness was not one of the Fruits of the Spirit, listed with love, joy, peace, patience, faithfulness, and all the rest. She felt certain were she to change places with Margaret, she would accept the baronet’s offer for the sake of her family’s financial stability. It would be her duty to do so, wouldn’t it?
Heaving a sigh, she said, “Margaret, if you are quite certain you cannot love Sir James and will not be happy married to him, then we must put an end to this nonsense. Tell your mother. She is not a tyrant, nor is she mercenary. If you cannot abide the thought of marriage to the man, she will not force you into it.”
“But you said there’s more at stake than I realize,” her cousin reminded her.
“There is.”
“Then why did Mama tell you, but not me?”
Prudence shrugged. “I think she does not wish to burden you unnecessarily. If you marry Sir James, it would not be necessary for you to know.”
Margaret frowned and gave a snort. “She should have told me then and not you. I am no longer a child!”
“Then quit behaving like one,” Prudence said acidly. Margaret looked so hurt Prudence immediately regretted her harsh words. “I am sorry, Meg. We’re all on edge.
“It’s not the thing, you know, stringing a gentleman on the way you have been doing. Accept him or refuse him, but give your mother the real reason for doing so.”
Margaret nodded pensively.
“Before you refuse his offer, however, I think you should have a candid discussion with your mother,” Prudence advised. “Pour out your heart to her. Be as frank as you can be. Tell her exactly why you cannot accept Sir James’s offer and why you find him so repugnant you cannot even condone a marriage of convenience.”
“But I don’t find him repugnant exactly,” Margaret protested. “It is just…”
She stopped herself from saying anything more, pressing her lips tightly together.
Suspicious, Prudence asked, “Have you had another offer? Perhaps one your mother would not approve of?”
“No, I have not,” Margaret said, her tone tinged with regret. “No one has ever offered marriage to me before.” For a moment she appeared so disheartened Prudence truly pitied her.
“Then you must consider carefully,” Prudence told her. She smoothed the skirt of her cousin’s gown absently with one hand. “You may never get another offer, and as you know, this is a particularly advantageous one.”
When Margaret merely shrugged, Prudence felt vexed. Her young cousin had received an offer she had never been afforded—neither of the two men who had proposed marriage to her in her salad days had been rich or dashing. James was both. He was also intelligent and good humored. And yet all Margaret could do was weep and simper at her imagined misfortune.
Studying Margaret through narrowed eyes, Prudence realized her cousin’s indecision was real. The poor girl was in emotional turmoil too. She’d never seen Margaret like this before. One day she’d be quiet and withdrawn. The next day she displayed a brittle gaiety Prudence considered more annoying. Aunt Judith found Margaret’s emotional instability taxing, to say the least. Mrs. Leyes’s disabling headaches had intensified as a result.
Stirred by a rush of impatience, Prudence declared, “I beg you, Margaret. Talk to your mother. You will soon discover it is your duty to marry Sir James.”
There! She’d said it. She’d done her duty, but it stabbed at her heart to do so. Heaven help me, Prudence silently implored.
“Don’t provoke me, Pru!”
“Provoke you!” Prudence exclaimed, indignant. “You are the one who is provoking. Both your mother and I have had our patience sorely tested. You have had three London seasons without a single offer. Now Aunt Judith and her bosom bow convince Sir James—a most eligible party—to do the pretty, and you declare you cannot marry him for some whimsical reason all your own.”
“It is not a whimsical reason!” Margaret objected.
“Then state exactly what the reason might be,” Prudence demanded. She could feel her heart pounding like a drum within her chest.
Margaret, eyes flashing and bosom heaving, opened her mouth to explain, then just as suddenly shut it again, pressing her lips into a tight line.
Prudence regarded her narrowly. “Well?” she pressed.
This time Margaret
’s eyes filled with tears, and she dissolved into sobs.
Seething with indignation, Prudence retreated from the room with a flounce of skirts. She could bear it no longer. Not now. Following her recent conversation with Aunt Judith regarding Mr. Younghughes, Prudence could sympathize with her cousin’s unwillingness to accept an offer from a man she could not love. In her shoes, Prudence could not do so either. Just contemplating a marriage proposal from Mr. Younghughes convinced her of that. But she felt assured were Margaret apprised of her mother’s financial concerns, she would be more willing to seriously consider Sir James’s offer.
One had a duty to one’s family, after all.
At the same time, Prudence strongly felt James deserved a wife who would marry him for other than financial considerations. He was a good man. He deserved a wife who would love and respect him. But then again, he seemed not to care whether Margaret did so or not. Had he not expressed as much? Had he not proposed marriage to Margaret out of duty? His mother was pressing him to marry. He needed to produce an heir. He willingly obliged by offering for the daughter of his mother’s dearest friend. Perhaps James did not care or want other than a marriage of convenience. But either way, it was up to Margaret to act. An offer had been made. She must either accept it or politely decline. It was unfair to keep the man dangling on the hook.
The next morning Prudence discovered she had an important ally in her line of reasoning. The day proved gloomy with a depressing drizzle. Intending to write a letter to her parents and a brief one to little Jenny Sutherland, she decided to do so in the small salon, where she was certain there would be a fire burning in the hearth. Despite her aunt’s financial straits, Prudence made up her mind to throw another scuttle of coal on the blaze, if it was not warm enough.
With a paisley shawl draped over her shoulders, more for warmth than fashion, Prudence made her way to the salon, letter box in hand. Hearing voices, she paused in the corridor outside the door. Listening, she quickly discerned Clarissa Paige must be paying a morning call. Based on the snatches of conversation Prudence could make out, the older girl was showing Margaret a new stitch for netting a purse.
“I wish I could coax you out of your dismals,” she heard Clarissa say. “But I do not know how. I think, however, until you either accept Sir James’s offer or send him on his way, you will remain as downcast as you are now.”
There was a pause and Prudence held her breath, wondering how her cousin would answer. She felt no qualms about eavesdropping. Her aunt had invited her to Bath for the express purpose of convincing Margaret to accept Sir James’s suit. If Clarissa proved more capable of doing so, Prudence wanted to know. She wondered if Margaret would welcome Clarissa’s advice any more than she had her cousin’s.
“Don’t scold,” she heard Margaret say at last. “I get enough of it from Mama and Pru.”
“I am not scolding,” Clarissa insisted. “I am just asking you to carefully consider the choice before you.”
“I think of nothing else,” Margaret lamented.
“You are simply fretting. You are not considering your decision sensibly,” Clarissa argued. “You need to make a list of all the positive benefits of marrying Sir James and then a separate list of negative aspects of the marriage.”
“You favor his suit then?” Margaret asked.
Prudence could hear the anxiety in her cousin’s voice. Waiting eagerly for Clarissa's response, she placed a hand at her throat. She could feel the pulse there beneath her cold, trembling fingers.
“Of course I favor his suit,” Clarissa admitted. “Why should I not? He is a gentleman of wealth and breeding. Harry says he is the best sort. His mother and yours are close friends too. You have had no other offers, dear Meg, nor are you in love with someone else. Are you?”
Again, Prudence sucked in her breath, eager to hear her cousin’s response. She took a small step closer to the door, clutching her letterbox more tightly.
“Are you?” Clarissa repeated.
“What if I am?” Margaret demanded.
Hearing footsteps coming down the hall, Prudence stepped in through the door to the salon, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping outside the door. The two younger women looked up as she entered. She noticed how Margaret sat up straighter and threw back her shoulders as though bracing for a confrontation.
“Good morning, Clarissa,” Prudence greeted their guest. She made her way to the desk in the far corner of the room, pausing to say, “Netting a purse?” She toyed with the idea of simply sitting down at the desk and writing the letters she intended to write. Instead, she seized the proverbial bull by the horns. “What’s this you were discussing when I came in, Margaret? Are you indeed in love with someone other than poor, patient Sir James?” She hoped her tone sounded more lighthearted than she felt.
Tilting her chin upwards, Margaret declared, “What if I am?”
“Pooh,” Prudence replied. “You would have hinted about it to me.”
“Or me,” Clarissa put in.
“I believe it is just a ploy, a feeble excuse, to keep from accepting Sir James’s offer,” Prudence insisted. “You enjoy toying with his feelings and ours, keeping us all on the edge of our seats, wondering what you’ll do.” She watched as her cousin’s shoulders slumped. Margaret seemed to shrink where she sat.
“What… what if it were true? What if I do love another? What should I do?” Her eyes filled with tears. Her lower lip quivered.
Prudence felt more moved than she’d expected by her cousin’s apparent distress. Glancing sidelong at Clarissa, she cleared her throat, saying, “Before you indulge any such fancy, you must speak with your mother. If it is indeed true your feelings are engaged, Aunt Judith needs to know. She is not a tyrant, as I have already pointed out. She will not force you into a marriage repugnant to you.”
“And Sir James would not wish to do so either,” Clarissa spoke up, earning a grateful smile from Prudence.
Margaret did not appear to be convinced. “I don’t believe Mama would understand.”
“Why not?” Prudence probed. “Is this man you have given your heart to some unsuitable havey-cavey scoundrel?”
“Of course not!” Margaret exclaimed, indignant. “He is a perfect gentleman—perfect in every way.”
“Then why would Aunt Judith object?”
“What if he did not reciprocate my feelings?” Margaret asked, fidgeting with the tassel at the bottom of the purse she’d been netting.
Prudence and Clarissa exchanged glances. “I see the problem!” Prudence declared. “This so-called perfect gentleman does not return your affection.”
“Yes, I mean, no,” Margaret groaned. “I do not know!”
In a rather matter-of-fact tone, Clarissa patted her friend’s shoulder and said, “Prudence is right. Before you tell Sir James yes or no, you must have a heart-to-heart with your mother.”
“She will say I am making it up as a flimsy excuse to reject Sir James’s offer,” Margaret replied, shrugging. “Just as Prudence assumes.” She shot her cousin a daggered glance.
Prudence quirked a brow. “Regardless of how you feel about this unnamed nonpareil, you must make up your mind regarding Sir James’s offer. It is not fair to keep him waiting. You will either take him as your husband or you will not. Decide one way or another and tell him of your decision.”
“I wish you would not meddle, Pru!” Margaret snapped.
“You have asked me to do just that!” Prudence reminded her. “Remember our previous conversation about skeletons in the Brownell closet?”
Clenching her hands in her lap, Margaret said, “You don’t understand. Neither of you,” she added, with a frown for Clarissa. “If only you would leave me alone!”
“That is quite easily accomplished,” Prudence said in a scathing tone. Embarrassed by her cousin’s rudeness, she scooped up her letterbox and held out a hand toward their guest. “Come, Clarissa. We shall leave my cousin alone to reflect upon her rude and childish behavior.”
Clarissa rose, picked up her own reticule from the side table and followed Prudence from the room, casting a glance of empathy at her distressed friend.
“Clarissa, I do apologize for Margaret’s behavior. She has not been herself,” Prudence told her as they made their way into the corridor. She then closed the salon door behind her.
“I believe she is in love with someone else. At first, I thought it a made-up excuse because she is reluctant to wed Sir James,” Clarissa confided. “But now I’m certain she is in love with another.”
“I agree,” Prudence replied.
“I am quite astonished, Prudence. She never mentioned anything to me before this,” Clarissa said, placing a hand lightly on Prudence’s arm. “I do not wish you to think I intentionally mislead you when we discussed this before. I did not know.”
Prudence nodded. “Thank you. I believe you.”
Clarissa went on. “After our discussion, I did give the matter some thought and concluded the real reason Margaret is so unwilling to marry Sir James is because she loves someone else. I’d told you at the time I thought perhaps she was simply surprised by Sir James’s offer, but she’s had plenty of time to grow used to it, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely,” Prudence agreed. Leading her down the hall, she asked, “May I offer you tea or some refreshment? I do not mean to rush you off.”
“No, thank you. I need to be on my way. I promised to help my mother with a few tasks, and I’ve stayed overlong on my visit here,” Clarissa replied with gentle smile. “Perhaps Margaret is still feeling poorly because of the vaccination.”
“Pooh,” Prudence replied. “She is suffering from a guilty conscience.” As she escorted Clarissa downstairs to the front door, she added, “We must somehow discover who this nonpareil is—the one with whom she is infatuated.”
“Truly, I do not know,” Clarissa confessed. “Her admission came as a surprise, I must say. We are together so often. I cannot think whom she has special feelings for.”
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