Blurb:
At the advanced age of
twenty-seven, vicar’s daughter Prudence Pentrye is on the shelf. Content to
occupy her time by attending meetings of Mr. Wilberforce’s Abolition Society
and helping her father administer vaccines in an effort to prevent a small pox
epidemic, Prudence is resolved to see that her younger cousin Margaret does not
share her own unmarried fate.
But Margaret is plain
and shy. She is repulsed when a swashbuckling baronet, Sir James Brownell,
makes her an offer of marriage. With his
sunburned skin, eye patch, and indifference to fashion, Sir James is not
Margaret’s idea of a romantic suitor. Nor does Margaret enjoy his tales of
fighting against Malay pirates and trekking through tropical jungles on the
island of Borneo in hopes of capturing a living orangutan.
Prudence, however,
finds herself secretly smitten. Will she maintain control of her traitorous
heart or will she trust God to make her life richer and more rewarding than the
one she had planned for herself?
Shirley Raye Redmond
is an award-winning author of historical romance. Her regency novel Rosemary’s
Glove won the New Mexico Book Award and
was a finalist in the Phoenix Desert Rose Golden Quill Contest in 2009. Prudence Pursued is Shirley Raye’s second
Astraea Press romance.
Excerpt:
Chapter One
“You should not wear
that to the pox party,” Prudence Pentyre said, indicating her younger cousin’s
dress of light green Italian silk. “I recommend something with short sleeves
which allows you to expose your forearm to the lancet.”
Margaret shuddered.
Her plain face, pale and lightly freckled, appeared downcast. “Oh, Pru, I wish
I didn’t have to go.” She stood, slender shoulders drooping, in front of her
open wardrobe.
“Truly, Meg, there’s
nothing to worry about,” Prudence assured her, slipping a comforting arm around
her cousin’s slim waist. “Papa had all of us vaccinated with the cowpox when we
were still in the schoolroom—and the servants too. I’m quite surprised my Uncle
Giles didn’t do the same.”
A glint of disapproval
flashed in her soft brown eyes. Silently, she fumed. Uncle Giles had held too
many outmoded notions. Such an old stick! He was dead now, having suffered an
apoplexy two years ago. Her mother, if she knew of Prudence’s unspoken
condemnation, would have reminded her not to speak ill of the dead. This
dictate had never made sense to Prudence. Why were some of life’s most unsavory
characters deemed to be saints after their deaths? Not that Uncle Giles was
unsavory, but he had been shamefully old-fashioned.
“Look, Meg, there’s
not even a scar.” Prudence held out a white arm for her cousin’s perusal. “Mr.
Jenner’s procedure is almost painless and quite safe, much safer than buying
the smallpox and enduring the dreaded disease.”
“Papa didn’t believe
in it. He said it was God’s will some people should die of the smallpox,”
Margaret said, turning away from her to examine an array of dresses hanging in
the wardrobe.
“God is not so cruel,”
Prudence insisted.
“Some say the
vaccination will cause one’s facial features to resemble those of a cow,”
Margaret ventured, her forehead creasing with anxious wrinkles.
Prudence laughed.
“Neither John nor Patience have any cow-like features, and you can see for
yourself I do not.” Slightly unsettled by her cousin’s close examination,
Prudence shrugged.
“Yes, look at me, Meg!
Do I resemble a cow? I can assure you I don’t have a cow tail hidden beneath my
skirts either. None of us have bovinized, as you fear. I believe Mr. Jenner’s
procedure to have been God-inspired. Truly. Papa has preached this same opinion
from the pulpit. Mr. Jenner took notice how milkmaids and dairy farmers did not
succumb to the deadly smallpox plague when there was an outbreak in their
village. It was because of their exposure to the harmless cowpox. It was an
amazing observation which will benefit us all.”
Like her parents,
Prudence was an ardent admirer of Edward Jenner. In fact, her father, the
Reverend Henry Pentyre, was a member of the Royal Jennerian Society and helped
to raise money to give free vaccinations throughout England. Prudence enjoyed
accompanying her father when he rode out to the rural areas to administer the
vaccine himself to those members of his parish willing to undergo the
procedure.
“But what if you
should marry and have children?” Margaret hinted, unconvinced. She clutched her
hands at her waist. Prudence, noting the slight tremor, realized her cousin was
trying not to reveal her agitation.
“Both John and
Patience are married with children, and none of my nieces and nephews look like
heifers, I assure you!” Prudence insisted. She gave Margaret a reassuring pat
on the shoulder. “You’re making a great fuss for nothing.”
With a sigh, Margaret
retrieved a short-sleeved muslin gown from the wardrobe and held it up before
her. As she considered her image in the mirror, Prudence stepped up behind her,
peering over her cousin’s shoulder. Smiling at Margaret’s reflection, she noted
the similarity of their features. They were much the same height—too tall and
thin to be in fashion. They had dark brown hair, pert noses, and generous
mouths, much too wide to be considered beautiful. But each had soulful brown
eyes, heavily fringed with thick, dark lashes.
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