To Prudence’s amusement, her aunt and Lady Brownell quickly became entangled in a lively argument about whether sarcenet or long lawn was the superior fabric for ladies’ summer wear. When they strolled from the room leaving her alone with James, Prudence experienced both mild astonishment as well as a poignant stab of dismay. Certainly, they would never have left Margaret or Eudora St. Vincent or any other young lady alone in a room with an unmarried gentleman. The fact they had done so could only mean one thing—poor, plain-faced Prudence was past the age of needing such custodial protection. Before the thought could induce in her a mood of self-pity, she swallowed the bitterness, and focused her attention upon James’s sketches.
She had expected to be interested, of course, but she found herself enthralled. “Sir James, you have a gift. Truly,” she declared in a voice soft with admiration as she turned the pages. She studied his sketches of birds, butterflies and the most delicate of ferns. There were images of primitive stick houses, dense jungles and a collection of exotic animals, such as pygmy elephants and bearded boars. There were also numerous portraits of various individuals, from half-naked Dyak warriors to a tender-eyed nursing Malay mother. Each was full of life, which Prudence found all the more amazing for the images were not fully detailed but drawn with an economy of strokes.
“You have captured the living essence of your subjects so well,” she told him.
“I would hardly say that,” James remarked.
Observing the faint flush that colored his manly cheeks, Prudence knew he was pleased by her sincere compliment, despite his protestations. Lest he accuse her later of being a toadeater, she added without taking her eyes from the pages before her, “Of course you would not say it. Had you done so, I would have proclaimed you to be a tiresome braggart.”
“I believe you would at that,” he replied, chuckling. “And you’d have been right, Miss Pentyre.”
“This ape intrigues me,” Prudence said, lingering over the page with a vague sketch of a shaggy-haired ape hiding in the treetops. “What is it called?”
“The orangutan intrigues me as well,” James said, leaning closer. “I’ve not been able to see one up close. They live high in the trees, you know. They even build nests rather like birds and raise their young in them. The name means person of the forest.”
“Are they large?” Prudence asked. “The arms seem out of proportion in your sketch.”
“Not at all,” he insisted. “Their arms are in fact longer than their legs. Many of the males are almost as tall as I am.” He stood up so she might have a more accurate means of comparison. “They are covered with long hair, as you can see in the picture. It is reddish-orange in color. Puts me in mind of my Great-Aunt Cynthia, who had a head full of hair the same impossible color—more or less.” He resumed his seat. “I have a fancy to capture one and bring it back with me next time. If it’s a female, I shall call her Cyndy. My mother will be aghast.”
When he chuckled, Prudence gave him a smile and then regarded the sketches of the ape more closely. “If they are as large as you say, do you think you will have difficulty capturing one?”
James nodded, “Yes, because the Dyaks will be none to eager to assist me. They seem fearful of the beasts and told me it is taboo or forbidden to look upon their faces. They have some rather hair-raising tales about them too—abducting women and children, attacking unsuspecting members of hunting parties and the like. They say the creatures can actually speak, but choose not to do so for fear of being made servants or slaves.”
Prudence sat up straighter. “I believe you are hoaxing me.”
James made a despairing gesture. “Not at all,” he insisted.
As she continued to turn the pages, studying the drawings of an assortment of rather fantastical mammals, Prudence listened in a happy trance as James identified each creature and gave her an interesting tidbit or two about their habits and their unusual features. She learned with incredulity that the flying squirrel, because it had a membrane growing between both its fore and hind legs, could soar from tree branch to tree branch.
The cheerful twittering of the little finches and the soothing timbre of James’s voice so near to her ear kindled within her a sense of rare contentment. She wouldn’t trade this small thimble of time for all the King’s treasure. When his fingers brushed lightly against her hand as he reached over to turn a page forward, Prudence felt the tingle all the way to her toes. Feeling ridiculously happy, she wanted these precious moments to last forever.
As she closed one sketchbook and reached for another, James flashed her a disarming smile, saying, “Miss Pentyre, you may be interested to know that I am about to become the subject of numerous sketches myself.” When she regarded him questioningly, James added with a bit of a rueful grin, “My dear Mama has commissioned an artist to paint my portrait. I believe he is coming to Bath at the end of the week.”
“And will you pose as yourself or will you don the ceremonial regalia of a rajah?” Prudence asked, with a hint of a smile. She could easily picture him in the conventional pose of a heroic conqueror, wearing a white shirt and tight trousers, with one knee bent and his hair blowing in the breeze. If the artist was talented enough, he might even capture that far-off look in James’s bright eye and the faint smile that so often hovered at his lips. “Perhaps you should wear the feathers of a hornbill tangled in your hair and tiger tooth earbobs dangling from your ears.”
With a throaty chuckle, James replied, “Mama would not appreciate such barbaric splendor. Her nose is already out of joint because I would not go to London to sit for the man in his studio. But as you know, I do not enjoy London over much.”
“You prefer Bath?” Prudence asked politely.
“I prefer Stalwood, my country estate. When I am here or in London, I am inevitably dragged from one play or dance to another.” He heaved a sigh, raking his fingers through his hair. “It’s all devilishly dull to my way of thinking.” With a quirk of his mouth, he added, “No doubt you do not find it so, Miss Pentyre, and therefore, will not sympathize with me. You could probably dance all night at Almack’s with the greatest of pleasure and then repeat the exercise the following evening with the same ecstasy of joy.”
Straightening her shoulders, Prudence protested, “Not I. Like you, I have always been happier in the country. To be honest, dances and card parties and routs—they are all well and good in small doses, but too many sate the palate and dull the senses. I don’t feel such social activities are quite real or even important—not the stuff of real life, I mean. It is not at all the same as helping to vaccinate children or seeking signatures for one of Mr. Wilberforce’s antislavery petitions.” She shrugged as she fixed her eyes upon his face. “I don’t know how to explain what I mean.”
Something at the back of his eyes set her heart to fluttering at a dangerous pace. “I understand you quite well, Miss Pentyre. Before my father died, I had no purpose in life. I did what he would have me do—I went where he sent me. Mine was an aimless, but dutiful youth filled with tea parties, fox hunting, and my university studies. With each passing year, I grew increasingly bored. I suffered from what you might call a spiritual restlessness too. My most enjoyable pastime was sailing my yacht around the coast and through the English Channel. As soon as my father died, I made up my mind to do as I pleased.”
“And it pleases you to travel and to keep pirates in check?” Prudence asked lightly.
“The first encounter came about quite by accident, you know, and I didn’t even recognize them as pirates,” he told her in a conspiratorial tone. “I figured it out soon enough and had just enough time to call the men to their battle stations, raise the boarding net and send up a flare. It was the bright blue flare that caused them to retreat. It scared them. We came off easy that day, but I knew we wouldn’t be so lucky a second time.”
“But you took to it like a duck to water,” Prudence noted.
“Someone had to face them down,” he insisted. “They rob and plunder
wherever they go. They exploit the Chinese merchants who have settled on the island. They intimidate foreign investors who come to the island seeking to build lumber mills to harvest the forests of ebony and teak. They raid Dyak villages and rape the women. I will not allow pirates or villainous Malay princes or anyone else to disturb the peace or harm the individuals under my protection.” This was said with a decisiveness that caused a certain hardening of the muscles near his mouth.
Prudence licked her dry lips. “It is a wonder you have allowed yourself to return to England for such a length of time feeling as you do about your…er…kingdom,” she said.
“I assure you the portion of the island under my control is quite small. The Dutch control the majority of the island to the south. Thankfully, they share my concern for protecting the island from pirates and to see that commerce and mining go on unimpeded. And one can always count on one or more British navy vessels to be in port in the north at any given time. It’s important that the Crown protect our foreign investments.”
“Of course,” Prudence replied lamely. “I understand there has been a cholera outbreak in your absence. You must be quite concerned.”
“How did you hear of it?” he asked, a frown furrowing his brow.
“Mr. Alfredson mentioned it.”
James gave a curt nod. “Fortunately, the epidemic has been confined to the settlement at Kuching--for now.” As his expression stiffened, he took on a defensive posture. “I am a good administrator,” he insisted. “I am doing the best I can for the people there. But I suppose you find me pompous and possessive.”
There was a note in his voice so self-condemning that Prudence was cut to the heart by his apparent vulnerability. “I do not think so, and I beg your pardon if I gave that impression,” Prudence hastened to apologize. “I know you take your responsibilities seriously and that you care a great deal for the people under your protection.”
After clearing his throat, James gave her a slightly embarrassed but grateful smile and then opened a new sketchbook for her perusal. This one contained several riverbank scenes, portrayed so realistically, Prudence could almost feel the hot stickiness of the place. “Have you shown these sketches to Eleanor and Arthur?” she asked, giving him a sidelong glance.
“No, should I?” he replied, taken aback.
She nodded. “I think so. It will bring the place to life for them in a way your anecdotes cannot. Arthur is going with you on your return voyage. He is full of missionary zeal. I believe Eleanor will make up her mind to accompany him, but leave their little son with his grandparents.”
“So they told you about it, did they? Do you disapprove?”
This time it was Prudence who was taken aback. “Not at all. Why should I?”
James shrugged. “Dorothea Greenwood is a close friend of yours, I know. You’ve become fond of Eleanor too, I believe. Perhaps worrying about the younger Greenwoods taking the perilous journey to the Far East has cut up your peace?” He looked at her questioningly.
“Eleanor believes you can protect her from any and all hazards,” she told him with a wan smile.
“If only that were true!” James declared, looking troubled. “You must know I will do my best to watch over them.”
Prudence nodded. “I know that you will,” she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. She didn’t even want to consider who would be in charge of watching over him. She supposed she must leave that to God. As she continued turning pages, a companionable silence fell between them. After a while, Prudence asked, “Have you invited Harry Paige to accompany you on your voyage?”
“No, not particularly. I did offer him an open invitation once and promised to save him a berth if he’s serious about coming. He’d be devilish good company,” James admitted. “I could count on him to do anything I might ask or to help in anyway. But I don’t believe he’ll be coming with me after all.”
When Prudence tipped her head to the side, arching her brows inquiringly, James said, “Arthur and I called upon young Harry not so many days ago to see how he is managing with that wrenched ankle. While we were there, his father took the liberty of informing me that as soon as Harry is able to travel, he will be accompanying Mr. Paige up north — somewhere in Scotland, I believe, to learn how to manage the family estate up that way.”
James rubbed his chin in a considering way. “Although he didn’t come right out and say it, Mr. Paige led me to believe he would not look favorably upon his son receiving an invitation to accompany me on my return journey to the Far East.” He shrugged. “So it appears circumstances beyond Harry’s control will prevent him from joining my motley band of adventurers this time. But if Harry wants to come along, I wouldn’t have the heart to fob him off.”
“Should it come to that, I believe you may rely on Margaret to talk him out of the venture,” Prudence told him, a smile wavering upon her lips. “My cousin told me yesterday she is weary of everything tropical.”
“Margaret said that?” He sat back in his chair.
Prudence gave a nod and turned another page. “She did.”
“Why, she must have found me the biggest bore ever when we were in company!” he declared. With an amiable smile, he added, “I must admit I spoke of little else when I was with her. People have come to expect me to talk of my travels, so I do with great enthusiasm. It isn’t difficult. Having seen the splendors of the East, even the English countryside, which you and I so greatly admire, now appears somewhat bland and tame. And of course with the next journey on the not-so-far horizon, my thoughts are frequently consumed with details, such as acquiring the necessary trading goods like scented soap, yards of velvet, candy, cigars, knives and scissors. You cannot know, Miss Pentyre, how valuable a good pair of scissors can prove to be when it comes to settling a dispute between insulted warriors or winning the trust of a skeptical chieftain.”
“I did not know it, but I never tire of hearing such things,” Prudence admitted, reaching out a hand toward him. She had intended it as a gesture of friendly reassurance. Not everyone was as easily bored as her cousin Margaret. But as soon as James’s hand closed over her own, she was conscious of deeper, unspoken feelings between them. Blushing fiercely and mortified by her bold behavior, Prudence glanced at him with shy inquiry and noticed a strange gleam in his eye. It was not an amorous gleam or even a tender one. It seemed rather self-mocking.
“How absurd! I am doing it again!” James declared in a light manner, releasing her hand and shaking his head at the same time.
Prudence forced herself to laugh. “So you are.” She tucked the offending hand in her lap and held it there in the form of a fist.
“You must think me the greatest sapskull,” he went on, his voice constrained. “It seems I cannot speak of anything else but my travels.”
“There is much to speak about,” Prudence said with brazen calm. Pointing to the next page in the sketchbook, she asked rather too brightly, “Tell me about this enormous insect—is it a beetle? How fearsome it looks.”
When James leaned closer to peer at the indicated sketch, she breathed in the scent of his starched linen, the hint of sandalwood soap and stifled a ragged sigh.
Chapter Fourteen
They were still perusing the sketchbooks when the butler came into the room to announce that Dr. Phipps desired a word with Sir James.
Rising from his seat, James replied, “Show him in, Linton.”
Prudence could tell by his slight frown and the quick, apologetic glance he cast in her direction that James had not been expecting a visit from the doctor.
Phipps, slightly breathless and with an air of slight anxiety, entered the room with long, purposeful strides. Pulling a letter from the inside pocket of his dark blue coat, he announced, “Brownell, it’s beyond the pale! I have received another one!”
The man checked when he saw Prudence seated at the desk. She’d twisted halfway around in her chair so that she might face him directly. As she regarded him, Prudence observed how the doctor’s d
ark eyes appeared kindled with anger. “I beg your pardon,” he hastened to say. “I do not wish to intrude.”
“You do not, Phipps,” James assured him, moving forward to greet him. “Come in. I believe you know Miss Pentyre?”
“Yes, of course. We first met at Lady Oldenfield’s,” the doctor said, giving Prudence a slight bow. “I trust your cousin Miss Leyes has fully recovered from her vaccination?”
“Indeed, sir, she has,” Prudence replied with a smile. “And I thank you for performing the procedure with such professional competence.”
He gave her a brisk nod before turning again to James. “If I might have a word with you in private, Sir James.” Phipps held up the missive in his hand and glowered at his host from beneath furrowed brows.
“I have had one too,” James confided. He took the letter from Phipps, slipped it out of the envelope and quickly scanned the contents. With a slight frown, James shook his head, declaring, “Such piffle!” His expression was one of both consternation and slight amusement.
The doctor’s eyebrows shot up. He cast a concerned glance in Prudence’s direction, appearing hesitant to discuss the matter further in her presence
Now more curious than she cared to admit, Prudence realized she should promptly excuse herself to join her aunt and Lady Brownell in the drawing room, so her host could speak privately with his newly arrived guest. It would be the polite thing to do. However, she didn’t feel polite nor did she want to leave. It was unpardonable, of course, and certainly none of her business, but Prudence burned with longing to learn the contents of the doctor’s mysterious letter. She decided to remain seated until James dismissed her.
“Sit down, Phipps,” James invited. “Do not worry about Miss Pentyre. She may be of some help to us in this matter, now that I think about it. For a young woman, she’s quite levelheaded. I believe she may be able to offer us a fresh perspective on the subject.”
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