“She cares for him overmuch to my way of thinking!” Prudence replied. Observing her aunt’s anxious frown, she sighed again, saying, “All right. I will speak with her. Later, when she has had a rest and has had time to compose herself.”
Judith nodded. “So, we have discovered the recipient of Margaret’s secret affection after all. Do you think he returns her feelings?”
“I do not know,” Prudence admitted. Thinking back to the calm and gentle way in which Harry had yielded to Margaret’s ministrations in the carriage and how he’d quietly tried to keep her from fussing, assuring her tears were unnecessary, Prudence felt certain he was not indifferent to her cousin. “Perhaps he does care for her a little,” she added.
Aunt Judith pressed Prudence’s hand. She then gave her a tremulous but grateful smile before making her way up the stairs.
The next morning when Prudence arose, she was dismayed by the sight of rain streaming down the windowpanes and a glimpse of a gloomy leaden sky. Margaret, with dark circles under her eyes, joined her at the breakfast table. Her shoulders slumped. Her mouth drooped. She sighed several times, apparently feeling as gloomy as the weather. “Mama has refused me the use of the carriage to visit Clarissa and Harry this morning. She insists I shall catch my death in this rain.”
“And well you might,” Prudence said, taking her aunt’s side in the matter. Biting into a piece of well-buttered toast, she decided now was not an opportune time to talk with her pouting cousin about anything. As Aunt Judith did not put in an appearance at all, breakfast was a quiet and dismal meal.
Prudence found herself hopeful of a visit from James, which would brighten the day most pleasurably. The thought of seeing him upon the threshold made her heart soar. But her hope plummeted when she considered the man had no reason whatsoever to pay a morning call. Why should he come to the Leyes’ residence since he was no longer wooing Margaret? To nurture such a hope was absurd. Even should he willingly come to see Judith to execute an errand for his mother, he would surely not do so in this weather.
Feeling foolish and out of sorts, Prudence resolved to spend the day curled up with a good book. When Dorothea Greenwood, undaunted by the rain, arrived at eleven to pay a morning call, Prudence welcomed her with delight. “What brings you out in such a downpour?” Prudence asked. “Never mind,” she hastened to add. “You’re a welcome diversion, I assure you. It is as gloomy inside the house today as it is outside.”
Following Prudence into the drawing room, Dorothea inquired politely, “I trust Mrs. Leyes is in good health and your cousin Margaret, too?”
Prudence rolled her eyes, a somewhat vulgar gesture, which caused Dorothea to raise her eyebrows. “They are well enough,” Prudence replied tartly. “I am sure Eleanor and Arthur have informed you about Harry Paige’s unfortunate accident and Margaret’s embarrassing flood of tears. I shudder to think…” She let her statement trail away, unfinished, like an unraveled hem.
When Prudence attempted to lead her visitor to the drawing room, Dorothea said, “No, I cannot stay. My carriage is waiting. I am on my way to the Pump Room and thought perhaps you may wish to accompany me and stay for lunch.”
Eager for any chance to escape what promised to be a boring day, Prudence answered, “Most certainly! I shall go mad if I stay here and have to listen to Margaret’s endless sighing.”
She dashed off to retrieve her pelisse and bonnet, requesting her aunt’s lady’s maid to inform Mrs. Leyes she’d gone to the Pump Room with Dorothea Greenwood and would be back later that afternoon. Once settled in the modest but comfortable confines of Dorothea’s carriage, Prudence asked, “Will Eleanor join us and Arthur too, perhaps?”
When Dorothea informed her Arthur and her daughter-in-law were at the moment calling upon Harry Paige to inquire about his injury, Prudence asked, “Then perhaps I can persuade you to tell me what surprising news Eleanor wished to announce at the picnic before Harry’s mishap occurred?”
Shaking her head, Dorothea smiled rather impishly. “No, I will not tell you. I know Eleanor and Arthur wish to do so. I do not want to ruin their pleasure. But I think you may be pleasantly surprised, Prudence.”
“I guessed another Baby Greenwood would be making an arrival in the near future,” Prudence replied.
Again, Dorothea shook her head. “Perhaps, I cannot say. But that is not what Eleanor and Arthur had planned to reveal to you. You must be patient.”
Patience was not one of Prudence’s virtues. So later at the Assembly Rooms, when she happily noted all the Greenwoods in attendance, she resolved to convince Eleanor to give up her secret. As the rain had ceased earlier in the evening, Judith, hoping to distract Margaret from fretting over Harry Paige’s injured state, insisted on accompanying her and Prudence to the dance. Prudence was not much excited about the evening’s entertainment. She so seldom danced it seemed a shame to dress for such an occasion only to sit along the wall with the dowagers. But after catching a glimpse of the Greenwoods, she anticipated an enjoyable evening in their company.
Margaret had been reluctant as well, but was greatly cheered when Clarissa, accompanied by her own mother, hurried forward to greet her. Arthur did the pretty by dancing with each of the young ladies in turn—first Prudence, then Clarissa and at last, Margaret, who still appeared a little distracted and glum. Prudence felt a bit glum too when she realized James had not put in an appearance nor was he likely to.
“He rarely attends,” Dorothea informed her when Prudence asked.
Suppressing a sigh, Prudence realized the evening would prove sadly flat after all. Even the vivacious Lady Brownell was not in attendance, and Prudence found herself wondering what the mother and son had on their social calendar for this evening. She had little interest in Lady Brownell’s affairs only in so far as they might involve James. The man’s absence made her ache inside. The pain was a small one, but just as palpable as a mild headache or a case of indigestion.
“I am sorry Lady Eliza is not present,” she said, addressing her aunt as she took the chair beside her. Judith sat fanning herself while keeping an eye on Margaret. The Assembly Rooms were hot and sultry, for the weather had warmed considerably following the downpour. Glancing sidelong at her aunt, Prudence noted the drops of perspiration beaded across Judith’s upper lip.
Prudence hoped her aunt would not sense she was probing. “Mrs. Belmont informed me that Eliza and Sir James are dining with Lord and Lady St. Vincent this evening,” Judith replied. With a tip of her fan, she indicated an older woman in the chair next to hers. Prudence leaned forward slightly to get a better look at Mrs. Belmont. The elderly woman wore an embarrassing amount of rouge upon her wrinkled cheeks. “She told me the St. Vincents have come to town to take the vapor baths.”
Judith asked Mrs. Belmont to repeat what she’d told her earlier. The woman seemed eager to do so, apparently knowing all about Lord and Lady St. Vincent and their two daughters, Eudora and Helene. “They are quite beautiful and so much alike many suppose them to be twins. But they are not.” She shook her head several times for emphasis. “No, they are not twins. They recently enjoyed a successful season in London but did not accept any offers of marriage although I am told they received quite a few.”
“I suppose when one is young, beautiful and rich, one can afford to be particular,” Judith noted grimly.
Mrs. Belmont nodded. “So true, Mrs. Leyes, so true. The young ladies are indeed quite beautiful. I believe Lady Susanne St. Vincent is a distant cousin of Lady Eliza Brownell’s late husband. It would not surprise me to hear in the near future that Sir James Brownell has made one of the young ladies an offer.”
“Oh?” Prudence dropped her eyes and plucked an imaginary piece of lint from her lap.
“But how he’ll choose between the two, I cannot imagine,” Mrs. Belmont chattered on. “Indeed they are as alike as two roses from the same bush. Quite fair, with eyes of deepest blue. They favor their mother.”
When Mrs. Belmont abandoned her chair to
converse with another acquaintance on the other side of the room, Prudence was mindful of the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach again. It was only to be expected James would be looking for another suitable bride since Margaret had declined his suit. No doubt Eudora and Helene St. Vincent were as lovely as Mrs. Belmont claimed. Even their names were beautiful, she thought enviously. Not prim or practical or dutifully exhortative like Prudence and Patience.
Aunt Judith sniffed, mistaking Prudence’s silence for lack of interest. “I am sure Mrs. Belmont knows all there is know about the St. Vincents. But why should we care? I have not met them myself although I have heard Eliza mention them before. I am sure she would be shocked, however, to hear the sort of gossip being bantered about regarding her son making a match of it with one of the daughters. Mrs. Belmont must have been misinformed. Eliza would have said something to me, surely?”
Prudence only shrugged. She could not help thinking her aunt might be experiencing some pique. After all, James had made an offer for Margaret’s hand and yet no one would ever know, for it had not been spoken of and never would be since Margaret had spurned his offer.
“Aunt Judith, you cannot still be hoping Margaret and Sir James will make a match of it?” Prudence shook her head. “Pray, do not. It will do no good. That ship has sailed.”
Sighing, Judith fluttered her fan more vigorously. “I realize there is no hope of if now. Poor Margaret. She confessed all to me this morning about her long-held affection for Harry Paige. Thankfully, she has not been as candid with him.”
Prudence snorted. “I am sure if he has any wits at all, he will have guessed how she feels. She did all but cling to his neck and weep in his cravat when we were returning from the picnic.”
“Yes, I was quite shocked when you told me of it.” Judith closed her eyes. She seemed to wilt upon the settee, but whether it was from the sweltering heat of the crowded Assembly Rooms or because she was mortified by her daughter’s behavior, Prudence could not say. “I only hope the poor child will not regret her lack of self control.”
“Margaret was distraught,” Prudence said, feeling somewhat compelled to come to her younger cousin's defense. “Meg has apparently nursed those tender feelings for quite some time. When Harry was injured, I think she overreacted. If it is any comfort, I believe everyone in the party was so anxious for Harry’s well being that Meg’s excessive tears went unnoticed by everyone except Arthur and Eleanor Greenwood, and Clarissa.”
Of course, this wasn’t entirely the truth, Prudence realized. James had taken note of Margaret’s reaction right away. She could still see the expression on his face when he’d turned to her, announcing on a rather triumphant note, “Now we know!”
“Cheer up, Aunt Judith,” Prudence advised. “Harry Paige is an amiable young man from a good family of comfortable means. You have known him and his sister Clarissa nearly all their lives. They surely have no skeletons in their family closet or destructive gambling habits. Once you consider the matter, you will see that a match between Margaret and Harry would be most acceptable. Surely it cannot disgust you?”
After a moment’s reflection, her aunt replied, “I suppose you are right, Prudence. I would not oppose the match. Whether Mr. and Mrs. Paige will feel the same, I cannot say. Perhaps they would not see it as advantageous.”
Prudence shrugged. “Perhaps not. But at least it would not be unthinkable nor should it come as a surprise. The young people have grown up together after all.”
“But Sir James’s offer…” Judith let her words trail away. “Margaret is not dancing,” she observed sadly. With a thrust of her chin, she indicated Margaret, who sat alone watching Clarissa dance with a young man, who possessed a shock of red hair and an embarrassing abundance of freckles.
“There is no need for dancing, Aunt Judith,” Prudence said, feeling rather listless but determined to cheer her aunt. “I suggest you pay a morning visit upon Mrs. Paige tomorrow to inquire about Harry’s recovery and to see how the wind blows. Take Margaret with you and a jar of your favorite ointment for the reduction of swelling.”
Nodding, Judith sighed again. Prudence sighed too. Both seemed lost in dismal thoughts of their own when Benedict Younghughes lurched his way toward them. Prudence felt her heart sink even further into the depths. Upon greeting her, Younghughes took her hand so enthusiastically, she feared for a moment he might kiss it. Prudence made a point of dancing with him only once. He employed a bantering tone throughout, but Prudence paid little heed to his attempt at flirtation, pretending instead to be minding her steps.
“I did not think you cared much for dancing, Mr. Younghughes,” Prudence said when the music ceased.
“It depends upon one’s partner,” he answered with a smile and a nod.
Prudence allowed him to lead her into one of the adjoining rooms where refreshments were being served. Younghughes pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to wipe his brow. He stayed a full hour beside her, clinging to her like moss upon a stone, talking ceaselessly about the riverbank ramble he’d enjoyed earlier in the week with Arthur and Amos Hunter, in search of fossil specimens.
Prudence longed for him to leave. She scanned the room for some other acquaintance who might come to her rescue. Could the man not take a hint, she thought with disgust? Had she not made it perfectly clear to him she would not welcome his gallantries? Apparently not. He seemed determined to lay siege to her affections. This uncomfortable thought caused her to flush.
“I have heard about Mr. Paige’s accident upon Little Solsbury Hill. Such a shame,” Younghughes said, shaking his head. “I am sincerely glad it was not you, Miss Pentyre, who took a tumble down the Hill. Yours is a delicate nature. I could not bear to see you suffer so.” He fixed his moist, sympathetic eyes full upon her.
If he thought he could win her with such a demeaning flirtation, he would have to think again. Bridling, Prudence snorted. “On the contrary, Mr. Younghughes, I am of a hearty nature, thank you. I enjoyed the trek up Little Solsbury Hill and would go again tomorrow, if asked. I enjoy rigorous exercise. Mr. Paige’s accident proves even the more sturdy members of our race can fall victim to unfortunate accidents.”
Much to her relief, Prudence glanced up to observe her aunt coming in search of her. She rose quickly. Younghughes did the same. Judith nodded at Mr. Younghughes and then pulled Prudence a little aside, saying in a quiet voice, “Margaret has complained of a headache. I am taking her home now, but I do not wish to tear you away from Mr. Younghughes.” Judith’s hand fluttered uncertainly to her throat. “Would you rather come home later with the Greenwoods?”
Prudence was more than eager to accompany her aunt and cousin and be gone from Mr. Younghughes at once and said so.
In an even quieter voice, Judith said, “Prudence, my dear, with a little encouragement from you…”
Prudence interrupted her, hissing, “I have no intention of encouraging him, now or ever!”
Judith, casting a sidelong glance at Younghughes, who now stood chatting with an elderly couple, murmured behind her fan, “Of course, I did not wish to presume.”
“Then don’t,” Prudence said crisply.
“I feel it is my duty to point out to you, as Mr. Younghughes persists in making you the object of his gallant attention, you must surely have made a conquest. Could you not encourage him just a little?”
“Indeed not!” Prudence insisted, clenching her jaw.
“You have no partiality for the man?” her aunt asked, her eyes bright with soft hope.
“None at all. You must think I am past praying for, Aunt Judith.”
“I have never said such a thing,” her aunt protested. “All I wish—and I am sure your dear mother would wish the same— is to see you married to some worthy gentleman.”
“Let us concentrate our matrimonial efforts on Margaret’s behalf, shall we? It is the purpose of my visit, as you will recall. With a little guidance, Meg might convince Harry Paige to make an offer in due time,” Prudenc
e suggested with mild irritation.
“Prudence!”
Hearing the shocked embarrassment in her aunt’s voice, Prudence could not help but smile.
Chapter Twelve
The following morning, Prudence joined the Greenwoods for breakfast in Sydney Gardens—an outing hastily agreed upon as she had been taking her leave from the dance the night before. Her aunt and cousin did not join the impromptu party as they wished to pay a call upon the Paiges to inquire about Harry’s inconvenient injury. Having taken Prudence’s earlier suggestion most seriously, Judith went in search of her receipt for the potato and onion poultice. “It will surely bring down the swelling more quickly than anything his physician may suggest,” she said with a self-confident nod.
The Gardens were but a short walk from Dorothea’s home. There Prudence and her friends enjoyed the usual public breakfast of rolls, cakes and tea. They found themselves seated quite comfortably—near enough to the ensemble that they might enjoy the music of the French horns and clarinets — but far enough away that the music did not impede their conversation.
“This is by far my favorite place to visit when I come to Bath,” Eleanor admitted. “I walk in the Gardens nearly every day.”
Prudence agreed it was a lovely park and expressed her desire to stroll through the labyrinth after breakfast.
Dorothea, with a cheerful gleam in her eye, turned to her son and daughter-in-law, saying, “I believe you should share your exceptional news with Prudence as you were prevented from doing so at the picnic because of poor Mr. Paige’s unfortunate accident. She has been impatient with curiosity.”
“Yes, do tell me,” Prudence urged, putting down her teacup.
Eleanor and Arthur exchanged a subtle glance. “You must tell her,” Eleanor said, smiling at her husband and squeezing his hand. “It is your news.”
“Go on,” his mother encouraged. “I am sure Prudence will share your excitement.”
Arthur’s rather stern face softened. He leaned forward, saying in an eager tone, “James has asked me to accompany him on his next voyage to Borneo to serve as missionary there for a year.”
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