Prudence glowed as she gave a tiny squirm of pleasure. She did not know which compliment she valued the most—the fact he’d referred to her as a young woman or a levelheaded one. When the doctor still appeared reluctant to discuss the contents of the mysterious letter in her presence, James flapped his hand with impatience.
“Go on, Phipps. Tell Miss Pentyre about the letters,” he said with an encouraging nod.
Dr. Phipps gave a sigh of resignation. “Miss Pentyre, what I am about to reveal to you, I do so reluctantly,” he confessed, with a disapproving glare in James’s direction. “I implore you to keep silent about what you will hear. You must not discuss the matter with anyone else.”
“That includes my dear mama and your Aunt Judith,” James added with a smile as he locked his hands behind his back. “Nor are you to swoon or become prostrate with palpitations when you hear what Phipps has to say.” His smile broadened into a grin.
“Brownell, I protest!” the doctor said, jumping to his feet and casting an anxious glance at Prudence. “This is insupportable! If Miss Pentyre is likely to swoon, I refuse to discuss the matter in her presence.”
Torn between indignation and amusement at James’s goading, Prudence rose from the desk chair and made her way toward the physician with a reassuring smile. Taking a seat next to him on the settee, she said in her calmest voice, “Do be seated again, Dr. Phipps, and pay no mind to Sir James. I have never swooned in my life, and I am not at all susceptible to palpitations. Pray tell me, what sort of letter have you received? You and Sir James have made the matter out to be one of great mystery. My curiosity is aroused. If I can be of assistance, I am happy to do so.”
“It is a threatening letter, ma’am. The language is not fit for a lady’s ears.”
Even as the doctor spoke these words, James handed Prudence the missive to read for herself. As she did so, she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. It was short, crude, and harsh, implying Dr. Phipps would spend eternity in hell for his part in vaccinating the helpless children of gullible parents against the smallpox. It also implied someone might soon hasten his departure into the afterlife.
“It is quite horrid,” she murmured, handing the letter back to him.
“Precisely so,” the doctor replied, taking it with a sad shake of his head.
“This is the second one of its kind that Phipps has received,” James informed her. “I received a similar one earlier this week. Someone is well informed about our vaccinating duties, I must say. I am certain the anti-vaccine league is behind them.”
“Are you taking the threats seriously?” Prudence asked, looking from one man to the other. “Have you informed the magistrate?”
James shrugged. “What good would that do? We have no proof concerning who sent the letters.”
“Nor do we have any suspicions,” Phipps pointed out. “We are not acquainted with any official members of the league in Bath. These letters may have been sent from London, in fact.”
“And none of the threats have been carried out or even attempted,” James added. “It is all huff and bluff to make us fearful, in hopes we will cease our vaccination efforts.”
“Have you compared the handwriting?” Prudence inquired. “Is it possible each letter was sent by the same correspondent?”
Phipps and James exchanged glances. “I had not thought to do so,” James admitted.
“Even if we had done, we could not tell by the writing who the ruffian might be,” Phipps admitted.
Taking the letter from Dr. Phipps again, Prudence studied the words and the writing with concentrated intent. Looking up, she said, “I am not certain this particular letter was sent by a ruffian at all. The paper is cheap, that is true. The handwriting, however, is quite neat and each word is spelled correctly. Even the punctuation is correct.”
She passed the letter back to the doctor again. James came forward, holding out his hand for the missive, which he glanced over quickly. “By Jove, she’s correct, Phipps! I told you Miss Pentyre might prove helpful.” He beamed at her as though she were an apt pupil.
Prudence basked in the glow of his approval, but lowered her eyes, not wanting him to see her raw happiness. She treasured his praise. Until this moment, she had not fully realized how much she craved it and how much it meant to her.
“I am concerned,” Phipps said. “This letter is more vulgar than the first. Perhaps we should take the matter to the magistrate as Miss Pentyre has suggested.”
“I find the whole matter tiresome and rather childish,” James protested. “Someone wants to prevent you from doing your work and keep people like me from supporting it.”
“I would like to see the letter writer punished,” Prudence said. “This sort of thing should not be allowed. Someone could get hurt.”
“Me and Brownell for starters,” Phipps pointed out.
“Never fear, Phipps,” James soothed. “We shall evade every snare they set for us. I refuse to be intimidated.”
Lowering his head, Dr. Phipps studied the tops of his boots and said, “That’s one of the reasons I have come, Sir James. I need your help.” He went on to explain that he’d agreed to vaccinate the grandchildren of a local tailor named Goldman. Fearful of repercussions, Mr. Goldman had requested Dr. Phipps not perform the procedure at his shop on Milsom Street. “I can’t say that I blame him. I may be followed. Will you help me, Brownell?”
“Certainly, Phipps. That goes without saying. Do you wish to meet with your tailor here?” James offered.
“No, Mrs. Dorothea Greenwood has graciously consented to allow me to perform the procedure at her residence in Sydney Place. The Reverend Arthur Greenwood will communicate the details with Mr. Goldman.”
“I can see you have thought this out between you,” James said, with a nod of approval. “What would you have me do then? I will help in any way I can. Why not?”
“Together with my wife Mrs. Phipps, you and I will pay a social call upon Mrs. Greenwood,” the doctor informed him. “But as my gig is all too familiar, I thought perhaps we could use one of your vehicles.”
James laughed. “My mother’s blue barouche is hardly discreet. We may need to hire a carriage.”
“I am sure my aunt would not mind if you use hers,” Prudence volunteered. “It would not draw any particular attention at all.” She felt a surge of pride that her friends the Greenwoods were willing to place themselves at possible risk for such a worthy cause.
“Perhaps you would accompany us, Miss Pentyre?” James suggested. “Then you need not invent some flim-flam tale for your aunt’s benefit regarding why Dr. Phipps and I should wish to borrow her carriage.” He arched his brows questioningly.
“I would be happy to accompany you,” Prudence assured him. “We cannot allow these troublemakers to prevent innocent children from receiving the vaccine.”
“I could not agree more, Miss Pentyre,” the doctor spoke up. “But I fear you may be putting yourself in harm’s way.”
“As Sir James has said, this is probably no more than huff and bluff,” she replied in her most confident manner, winning another approving smile from Sir James as her reward.
The three of them finalized their plans. Two days later, Prudence found herself in her aunt’s carriage on her way to collect first James and then Dr. Phipps and his understanding wife--a quiet, sweet-faced woman with an abundance of brown wavy hair. “Do you think there will be trouble?” Prudence asked Dr. Phipps, her heart pounding with cautious excitement.
“I cannot say. But we must be prepared for the worst,” he acknowledged.
“You are not afraid, Miss Pentyre,” James said. It was a statement, not a question.
“No, I am not afraid,” she assured him. His faith in her courage was bolstering. Still, she watched the street warily and noticed James did the same. His strong jaw appeared somewhat clenched and his eyes quick and narrowed. His attitude of staunch determination emboldened Prudence even more.
“Thank you for accompanying us,
Miss Pentyre,” Mrs. Phipps said. “I must confess I do not know Mrs. Greenwood well. We are mere acquaintances. I understand that you and she are good friends, so I feel better about the pretense with you in our company.”
“Dorothea is one of my dearest friends,” Prudence told her.
“As a doctor’s wife, I am often worried about the dangers my husband exposes himself to,” Mrs. Phipps went on in her quiet voice.
Dr. Phipps made a tsk-tsk noise and shook his head.
“These generally take the form of deadly diseases,” Mrs. Phipps went on, ignoring him. “Occasionally, he is called to a house fire or carriage accident upon the road. Over the years, I’ve come to brace myself for these events and the eventuality that he may encounter some accidental danger. I am trying to trust God to protect him, but it is altogether different when I consider that someone would actually want to harm my husband intentionally. I confess the thought frightens me. He only intends to do good, Miss Pentyre. Why should anyone wish to deliberately harm a doctor?”
“I cannot say,” Prudence admitted. “But I am certain no one shall harm him this day—not with the Reverend Greenwood and Sir James to attend him,” she assured the doctor’s anxious wife.
Upon arriving at Dorothea Greenwood’s residence in Sydney Place, James emerged from the carriage first. He helped Mrs. Phipps from the vehicle first and then offered his large, warm hand to Prudence, smiling at her in a reassuring way. The touch of his hand sent a mild tingle up her arm. Prudence caught her breath before taking Mrs. Phipps arm to lead her up the steps. As she did so, she noticed James and the doctor having a quiet but intense conversation with the carriage driver and the tiger, both armed with cudgels. She noticed too that both James and the doctor carried walking sticks.
“Come, Mrs. Phipps. I am eager to make you better acquainted with my dear friend, Dorothea Greenwood.”
Mrs. Phipps gave a short sigh. She seemed to approve of Prudence’s attempt to calm her shattered nerves. “You must think me quite a pudding heart, Miss Pentyre,” she said with a wan smile.
“Indeed I do not!” Prudence protested, knocking upon the door.
With a flutter of genuine welcome, Dorothea greeted them at the door herself. She took a moment to glance out into the street, giving a short sigh of relief when she did not notice any suspicious malingerers. With a tremulous smile, Prudence squeezed her hand before following her and Mrs. Phipps upstairs to the drawing room. James and the doctor followed close behind. There they found Arthur, arms akimbo, being measured apparently for a garment of some sort.
“Arthur! What a frippery fellow you are!” James declared with mild levity. “This is no time to be concerned about a new coat.”
“As Mr. Goldman wisely thought to bring his tools of the trade, we decided he should be allowed to use them,” Arthur replied good-naturedly. He nodded a greeting at Dr. and Mrs. Phipps and then introduced them to the tailor, a short man with a row of noticeably white teeth gleaming through his dark beard. Next to him on the floor was a small open valise, which contained measuring tapes, pins and other equipment presumably needed for the measuring of a gentleman in need of a new suit of clothing.
“It was my idea,” Eleanor spoke up, appearing alert with excitement. She stood next to the settee where two small dark-haired boys sat, wide-eyed and silent. They were introduced as Caleb and Judah. “I did not want Arthur to be caught in a fib—especially not in front of the children,” she explained.
“Sound thinking,” Dr. Phipps said, nodding his approval. “Should any of Mrs. Greenwood’s servants be questioned later on, they can verify Mr. Goldman came in his professional capacity to measure the vicar for a new coat.”
Dorothea urged her guests to be seated, but Dr. Phipps remained standing, eager to get on with the duty before him. Addressing James, he said, “We mustn’t waste time. If you will perform the procedure, Sir James, I shall supervise. Then I need not tell a fib either should I be confronted about performing a vaccination at Mrs. Greenwood’s residence today.” He winked at the two boys.
Turning to Prudence, his eyes glowing with good humor, James asked, “Will you assist me, Miss Pentyre?”
Prudence rose quickly, eager to be of assistance. “Of course, Sir James.” In a low, soft voice, she added, “May I point out you also have received a threatening letter? You may find yourself in the same predicament as Dr. Phipps—someone may demand to know if you performed such a procedure. You will not wish to tell a fib either.” She glanced sidelong at the small boys sitting in rigid attention on the settee, watching and listening.
James followed her glance, smiling as he did so.
Arthur, who had been hovering at James’s elbow, said, “She has a point.”
“If you would allow me, I shall perform the procedure,” Prudence volunteered. “I have done so before, as you know. It is a simple matter, and I am not a target of the anti-vaccination league.” Turning to the little boys, she added, “It will not hurt much, I promise.”
The tailor bowed in her direction, saying, “If you, please, ma’am.”
James flashed Prudence an oddly keen look before saying, “My dear Miss Pentyre, you have the heart of a tigress.”
Prudence blushed as a thrill of pleasure coursed through her veins. The heart of a tigress! This was high praise indeed. She felt certain she would cherish the compliment long after she had departed Bath and returned to her ordinary life with her parents.
“All right then, Miss Pentyre, I have what you need.” Dr. Phipps reached inside the breast pocket of his coat and removed the required lymph. This had been stored inside the quill of a feather and plugged with wax. “Unlike Mr. Goldman, I did not bring my professional bag with me today. I need not remind all of you that Mrs. Phipps and I are paying a social call upon Mrs. Greenwood.” He nodded at Dorothea, who gave him a smile and a brisk nod.
The other required instruments, such as the lancet, the doctor had wrapped carefully in a clean handkerchief. These he presented to Prudence, who first swiped the youngsters’ bare arms with a dab of brandy. As she performed the vaccination with steady fingers while murmuring kind, soothing words, Dr. Phipps gave brief instructions to the tailor regarding how to care for his grandchildren during their brief period of recovery.
“There now,” Prudence said, when she’d finished. “That was not so horrid, was it?”
The little boys shook their dark, curly heads, while their grandfather gratefully clasped hands with Dr. Phipps, Arthur and Sir James and bowed formally to Prudence and the other ladies present.
“Such good, brave children deserve some plum cake, I think,” Eleanor ventured. “Come with me to the kitchen, and you shall have a treat.” She left the room, shepherding Caleb and Judah before her, and followed by Mr. Goldman.
Dorothea then served sherry, tea, and macaroons to her visitors. They chatted briefly about the weather, the benefits of vapor baths, and even the color of Arthur’s imaginary new coat. When Eleanor returned, she sat next to Mrs. Phipps, inquiring politely about her grandchildren. Prudence had just finished her bracing cup of hot tea when she heard a noisy rumpus in the street.
“Good heavens!” Arthur declared in a tight voice. He made his way over to the open window and peered down. “James, they are here!” His tone held a note of ominous doom.
Hurrying to his side, Dr. Phipps stared down upon the shouting throng. “It is a small crowd. They are carrying pickets and what appears to be an effigy. I believe they intend to burn it.”
“How did they find out we were here, I wonder?” James mused.
Outraged, Dorothea declared, “It is so vexatious to consider that I am being spied upon by my neighbors or my servants.”
“No, dear lady, I believe someone has been spying on me,” Dr. Phipps said apologetically.
“Or perhaps me,” James put in with a resigned shrug.
Prudence felt a rising indignation as she listened to the angry shouting from outside. Curious, she made her way to the window and g
azed down upon the street. She counted a dozen protesters—mostly ill-dressed men and a few older women wearing caps and aprons. Some bellowed like cattle. Prudence experienced a twinge of fear.
Then came a loud pounding at the front door. Mrs. Phipps gasped. Eleanor clasped the woman’s hand while Prudence and Dorothea exchanged anxious glances.
“Do not let your maid open the door, Mrs. Greenwood,” James ordered. “I will go.” Prudence’s heart jolted in her chest before it resumed beating at an extraordinary rate.
“I shall go with you,” Arthur said.
“Arthur!” Eleanor gasped, a trembling hand fluttering to her throat.
“Eleanor, go back to the kitchen,” her husband commanded. “Tell Mr. Goldman he must leave his grandchildren here. We shall see that they are returned safely later once this mob has been dispersed.”
“Mr. Goldman should leave now by the back way,” James added.
Eleanor took courage from her husband’s approving nod, and hastened from the room.
Again there was a loud, demanding knock upon the front door. The bellowing and shouting became louder, too.
“Gird your loins, gentlemen,” James said, reaching for his cane. Prudence noticed that the doctor and Arthur had also armed themselves with walking sticks. “We must keep the rabble outside at all costs.”
She also noted how pale and distraught Mrs. Phipps appeared and hurried to her side, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
“Ladies, I advise you to stay away from the window in case they should hurl a stone,” the doctor advised.
Without thinking, Prudence followed the men to the landing of the stairs. While Arthur and Dr. Phipps thundered down the steps, James, turning, thrust his cane at her. “Take this, Prudence, and use it if you must. We will try to keep them outside, but should they storm the house and mount these stairs, do what you can to keep them from getting any further.”
She nodded briskly and swallowed hard.
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