“I have never fainted before in my life,” Prudence said, embarrassed.
“I daresay you have never been cracked on the head with a cudgel before either,” Dr. Phipps pointed out. “I want you to keep to your bed for at least one day more and eat to build up your strength.”
“May I now have visitors?” Prudence asked hopefully. “I shall go mad if I sit here in this darkened room with nothing to do.”
“You should be resting—it is something to do,” Dr. Phipps replied, with a frown. When her mouth drooped with disappointment, he shook his head, saying, “Mrs. Eleanor Greenwood is downstairs in the drawing room at this moment visiting with your cousin and your aunt. On my way out, shall I tell her she may come up for a brief time? Brief.”
“Yes, please,” Prudence said, sitting up a little straighter in her chair.
The doctor reluctantly acquiesced and soon after he had taken his leave, Margaret appeared at the door with Eleanor peering over her shoulder. “Oh, my dear friend!” she cooed, hurrying to Prudence’s side. “It grieves me to see you looking so pale.”
“Just a short visit, Mrs. Greenwood,” Margaret reminded Eleanor, indicating a chair where she could be seated.” Then giving her cousin a warning frown, Margaret left, closing the door softly behind her.
Prudence, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at her cousin’s retreating form, reached out a hand toward her visitor, imploring, “Eleanor, tell me everything. I still have little recollection of what happened at the end. You and Arthur are unharmed, my aunt tells me. And Dorothea too?”
“We are fine,” Eleanor reassured her, squeezing Prudence’s hand before taking a seat. “You were the only one injured in the melee—you and Mr. Younghughes.”
“Margaret told me he has a split lip and a bruised eye.” When Eleanor raised her brows slightly, Prudence explained. “She saw him when he stopped by yesterday with a floral bouquet to inquire about my…er…health.”
“Did he indeed!” Eleanor exclaimed, a martial glint in her eye. “It is all his fault you came to be injured in the first place. He organized the protest, don’t you know?”
“No, I didn’t know,” Prudence said, impatiently. “Tell me everything.”
Eleanor related a lively narrative about the events that took place during and immediately following Prudence’s mishap. “For it was an accident, Arthur says. You were hit in the head with a rotten egg or piece of fruit just as you slipped upon the stairs. Someone screamed. We heard it from upstairs. There was considerable shouting from people in the crowd and then Sir James punched Mr. Younghughes in the face—can you believe it? When one of the protesters attempted to hit Sir James with his cudgel, he accidentally injured you instead. Arthur said there was quite a melee after that. Sir James and Dr. Phipps came to your rescue and poor Arthur addressed the remaining protesters, telling them they should be ashamed of themselves. Someone went to fetch a constable. It was all quite exciting.” The glow on her face suddenly dimmed as she said, looking sheepish, “I am only sorry that you were injured, Prudence.”
“Me too,” Prudence admitted, gently touching the bandage upon her head.
“I was nearly overcome with trepidation when I watched them put you into the carriage, but Arthur says I must fortify my nerves, for we may encounter similar situations when we travel to Borneo with Sir James.”
“So you are going—the pair of you? Little Arthur too?”
“No, not little Arthur,” Eleanor said, shaking her head. “I discussed it at great length with Dorothea, and I feel it would be best—and much safer—to leave him with my parents in Yorkshire near his cousins. My sister has several children of her own, so little Arthur William will not want for playmates.” She sighed. “Of course, I may change my mind between now and the time we depart. Sir James insists that we are more than welcome to bring the child. He has promised he will do all in his power to ensure the child’s health and safety. But I know my mother would feel more comfortable if I left him behind with her.”
Prudence experienced a pang of envy. How she wished she too could accompany them upon their journey! Silently asking forgiveness for her unchristian feelings, she said, “He will keep his promise, as far as he is able.”
“I do not doubt it,” Eleanor replied with a gentle smile. “But still…”
On the third day, despite an unrelenting headache, Prudence felt well enough to dress and move down to the drawing room.
“You still look sadly pulled, Prudence,” her aunt informed her with a worried frown. “I have been going through my receipts to see what I can make that will help put the color back in your cheeks. Margaret said you ate all of your soft-boiled egg at breakfast and a piece of toast. I am so pleased. We’ll soon have you right as rain.”
Prudence gave her a wan smile as she leaned back against the cushions. With nothing to do but sit idly by, reflecting upon the recent incident with the anti-vaccination league, Prudence discovered she had too much time to dwell upon her perplexing feelings for James. He had not come to see her, and she felt more grieved by this than she cared to admit. When she’d asked Margaret if he had stopped by with Lady Brownell perhaps, she’d been informed Sir James had left town on business. He had, however, sent flowers. He had even taken the time to sign the card himself—a bold, masculine scrawl. First name only—James.
She read the card several times each day, more often than she should have. Prudence guiltily recognized that what pained her most particularly was not her throbbing head and bruised limbs, but her aching heart. Why had he gone away on business when she needed him—when she was injured? A solitary tear rolled down her cheek. She swatted it away. This was nonsense! Whatever was she crying for? He’d sent flowers, hadn’t he? This was sufficient, surely, considering how many other things he had to do.
Besides, she was nothing more to him than a new acquaintance. What had she expected?
Then she recalled the way James had gazed up at her as she stood upon the landing at the top of the stairs the day the league had shown up to protest in front of Dorothea’s residence. When he had given her his cane, Prudence had felt more alive in that moment than she had ever before in her humdrum life. She sensed by the gleam in his eye James had experienced a similar sensation. There’d been a spark between them, she was certain of it.
The memory warmed her, causing her cheeks to flush and her blood to tingle. Looking back over the several weeks she’d been in Bath, Prudence was forced to acknowledge the spark had first been ignited when James had complimented the daintiness of her earlobes on that afternoon at Lady Oldenfield’s when Margaret had introduced them to one another. She’d refused to recognize it at the time, but yes, there had been a spark between them even then. And when they’d gone to Mrs. Trimmer’s aid at Lady Richmond’s school for girls—there had been something between them that day too, something slow and simmering, but delicious to savor.
Recalling it now brought more tears to her eyes. She had fallen in love without even realizing it. Or maybe she had realized it all along and simply pretended it wasn’t so. Prudence had always prided herself on her good sense and yet here she was, making her heart vulnerable in a dangerous fashion. It would not do! Her visit to Bath would soon come to an end. She must return home to resume her useful, dutiful life—teaching Sunday school, visiting the sick and helping her parents with various parish obligations. Eleanor and Arthur would be returning to their home as well within the coming week. Sir James would soon return to London or to his country estate to make preparations to return to Borneo where he would continue his rule as rajah. The thought of his departure made her feel so low, she wondered briefly if the hard knock on the head had done more damage than she realized.
Much to her delight and relief, James put in an appearance on the fourth day of her recovery. Prudence, reclining upon the sofa in the drawing room, propped up against the cushions, attempted to sit upright when the smiling maid announced his arrival.
“Miss Pentyre, up and dressed, I see.
I hope you are not trying to rush your recovery,” he said. “You have suffered a nasty knock upon the head and have a mild concussion, I am told.”
Prudence, her spirits soaring, noticed he carried a small wheel of cheese in one hand. She gave a tinkle of laughter. “Cheese,” she said, her lips twitching.
“It’s a fine cheddar,” James insisted, presenting it to her with a twinkle in his eye. “Mrs. Leyes said you are still peckish. I want you to eat, Prudence. You must build up your strength. You’re a sensible woman. I know you will.”
Prudence, regarding him from under her lashes, decided he was not the least bit romantic, but she was happy to see him nonetheless. “I will try,” she promised. “But my stomach feels rather unsettled most of the time.”
James stood looking down at her for so long and with such intensity her hand fluttered to the bandage on her head. “I must look a fright,” she said feebly.
“No, my darling, you look like a pirate queen after a hard-fought battle.” Grinning, he sat down in the nearest chair.
Her heart raced as she busied herself readjusting the shawl spread across her lap. Had he actually called her his darling?
“Shall I rearrange your pillows? Bring you anything?” he asked solicitously.
“Please don’t fuss,” Prudence said peevishly. For several days, she’d been longing for James’s return, hoping for a visit from him. Here he was at last, and yet she feared he’d come only to patronize her. He’d brought Margaret a basket of cheese, as she recalled, when her cousin was recuperating from her vaccination. A small basket, it was true. She, it seemed, merited only a single wheel of good cheddar. Prudence’s general mood of gloom and dismay seemed to intensify. She frowned, wondering why she was out of sorts.
“Don’t look daggers at me,” James declared, lacing his fingers in his lap as he crossed one leg over another. “I feared you might blame me for your injuries. I see you do. I daresay you will be disinclined to accept my next suggestion.”
“What suggestion?” she queried with a sigh.
“You should marry me,” James said. “I have a sudden fancy to change your name to Lady Prudence Brownell.”
Prudence grew still. She kept her gaze fixed upon her hands resting in her lap. “You cannot wish to marry me,” was her quiet reply.
With chagrin, James declared, “You hold my past follies against me, including Margaret and the vicar’s daughter? You think I am a flighty fellow, who cannot settle? Believe me, dear Prudence, when I say I did not feel for them what I feel for you. I was merely being dutiful as far as they were concerned.”
Prudence gave a mild snort. “And you are not being dutiful now?”
He emerged from the chair, dropping to one knee beside her. Taking her trembling hand, he said, “I am in earnest this time. I am in love with you, Prudence Pentyre.”
Catching her breath, she asked in a tight voice, “So you were merely trifling with my cousin?”
“Don’t play at verbal fisticuffs with me while I am trying to make you a proposal of marriage,” James warned her amiably.
Prudence raised her eyes to his. What she saw there made her pulse race. Her throat felt dry. “But… but what of Margaret?” she asked.
He appeared perplexed. “Margaret? What the devil does she have to do with anything?”
“I don’t see how it is possible we can marry when you already asked Margaret first,” Prudence pointed out.
“True, I did ask her first, but she turned me down flat,” James reminded her. “Do you think she regrets doing so? I do not, and I am under no obligation to take her feelings into consideration,” he said with an impish grin. “I paid young Harry Paige a visit yesterday afternoon while your cousin was there. I could not help but notice the way they regarded one another. A pair of moon calves! I am guessing sometime in the near future there will be wedding bells for those two. The only question you and I need consider is whether you will be a bridesmaid before you are a bride.”
Prudence gave him a helpless look, searching for the right words.
“Oh, I see,” he said, nodding. “You think I am asking you out of desperation—that you are my second choice—no, my third choice.”
Prudence, ignoring these painful observations, breathed, “Oh, James, consider the difficulties.”
“What difficulties?” he demanded, rising. “There are none.” He pulled the chair he’d been sitting on nearer the sofa.
“My aunt would be scandalized, I am sure of it, and your mother too.”
“I cannot speak for Mrs. Leyes, but my mother will be delighted. She has pointed out your many charms to me for the past week or so,” he said, smiling. “She would welcome you as her daughter-in-law with open arms. Do say yes, sweet Pru. We shall have your father perform the ceremony, if you’d like it.”
Prudence blushed. The hopefulness in his eyes was almost too much to bear. “My father…” she began.
“I have already spoken with him regarding my intentions,” James hastened to add.
Astonished, Prudence opened her lips to speak and then shut them again.
James hurried on. “Perhaps you think because you are a woman grown and not a schoolroom miss I should not have consulted with your parents first.” His brow wrinkled. “But I thought it proper to do so. Your father has given his consent, and your mother was speechless with delight. She told me she could already envision you teaching Bible stories to the naked children of the Borneo headhunters. She sighed with bliss at the mere thought of it.”
“When did you…?” Prudence stammered, blinking back the tears.
“Didn’t Margaret tell you I went out of town?”
She gave a quick jerk of her head and sniffed. “On business.”
“Important business it was too,” he said, squeezing her hand. Without another word, James caught her in his arms and kissed her hungrily. After a short while, Prudence, gasping an inarticulate protest, made a feeble attempt to push him away.
“Prudence, I have never been one to make pretty speeches. Margaret can tell you so. She can also tell you I never claimed to love her. I told Margaret I esteemed her, and it’s not at all the same thing.”
“No,” Prudence agreed in a subdued voice.
“I am not poetical, so I shall be blunt.” Leaning forward, he took possession of her hands again. “I love you, Prudence Pentyre. I knew it from the moment you ducked away from the carriage window, hoping that tiresome Mr. Youngblood had not noticed you inside.”
“Younghughes,” Prudence whispered meekly.
“I cannot tell you how I rejoiced when Margaret rejected my suit. Harry Paige is welcome to her.” He winked.
Prudence glanced away from his smiling face. She longed to accept his proposal, but something held her back. Pride perhaps? Or embarrassment? Would her aunt and cousin think she had accepted him out of desperation? Did her parents harbor any misgivings about this unexpected turn of events? After all, the original purpose of her visit to Bath had been to convince Margaret to accept Sir James’s offer of marriage. Would Mama and Papa think she had intentionally sabotaged the whole? And what of the exquisite St. Vincent sisters? Would not Lady Brownell prefer her son to marry one of them?
“You have qualms,” James said, his voice sad. His shoulders slumped. “I had not supposed it.”
“I surprise myself,” Prudence whispered.
“I am surprised too,” he admitted. “It would be hypocritical for you to reject my suit after all.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Prudence asked, drawing back slightly.
“You came to Bath to persuade your cousin I was a worthy suitor, didn’t you? I was not privy to the counsel you gave Margaret, but could you not repeat it to yourself and heed it as well?” he asked. “Did you not point out all my good qualities--my excessive fortune, my impeccable lineage, my suitability as a husband?”
She gave a tinkle of laughter. “Your impertinence!”
“Yes, that too,” he agreed with a reluctant grin.
<
br /> Quivering, Prudence began to laugh. The laughter dissolved into tears. Soon she was gulping back the sobs.
“My dearest girl!” James proclaimed, shaken. Once again he took her in his comforting embrace. “What in Heaven’s name are you crying about? Please do not. Have I said something to offend you?”
She shook her head violently. “No, it isn’t that,” Prudence hastened to assure him. “You must know I had given up on this sort of thing—on love and marriage. I never thought these things would be a part of God’s plan for me. Only please, please do not say you wish to marry me because it is the sensible thing to do.”
Carrying her hand to his lips, he kissed it, saying, “Let me make something perfectly clear, my sweet Prudence. You are my first choice—the choice of my heart. It is true I proposed marriage to Margaret. I was candid when I told you at our first meeting my feelings were not engaged—and you know that hers were not. My mother suggested the match. Your aunt approved. You know all this! I was intent on marrying to oblige my mother. But I was wrong to do so, Pru. God had you in mind for me all along.”
“It is marvelous you should care for me.” Prudence choked out the words, her heart beating so fast she could barely speak.
“No,” James contradicted, his voice slightly hoarse. “What is marvelous is you should care for me too.”
“Maybe this is a fever dream,” Prudence said mistily. “I fear I will soon wake and discover this was nothing more than a touch of delirium brought on by a severe knock on the head.”
James pulled her hand to hold it against his chest. “Do you feel that, Pru? My heart is pounding like a Dyak ceremonial drum. This is real.” His eyes held a hungry look, searching. “Please say you will marry me.”
The intensity of his gaze took her breath away. After swallowing hard, Prudence whispered, “They will all say I married you for your fortune.”
“I know you do not care a fig for my fortune, Pru,” James assured her. “You do not care about worldly possessions in the least.”
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