by Tamara Gill
Penelope did not comment. She was not concerned about Lady Abigail or her already unsuccessful marriage. She was concerned with finding someone to fill her position and finding out about the Duke.
She folded her hands in front of her. Cook had left the room so that she and Jenkins could talk without interruption, but she heard the whisper of voices behind the door and knew that Cook, and likely a couple of the maids, were eavesdropping. She smiled, but she turned her back to the door.
“Have you still had no word from the Duke?”
Jenkins sat down across from Penelope.
“None. I did ask Lord James if he could send an inquiry to the Office of the Army, but he has refused to do so.”
“Why would he refuse?” Penelope asked.
“He did not deign to give me a reason.”
Penelope frowned.
“Might we inquire?”
Jenkins shook his head.
“No. We are mere servants. Even though I handle the finances and the running of this household, and you the other details, we do not have that right.”
“May we approach his solicitor and ask him to…”
Jenkins raised a hand.
“I already tried. The first thing he did was reach out to Lord James who again refused.”
Penelope ran a hand over her face.
“This is very frustrating. Why on earth would Lady Abigail’s husband not want to enquire after his brother-in-law?”
Jenkins leaned across the table.
“I imagine it has to do with the simple fact that they have moved in here. They waited until after the Duke left before they moved in, and Miss Jameson, they have taken over the house. They have friends and parties. Lord James gambles in the parlour. Lady Abigail has turned one of the spare rooms into what I can only call a collection for all her purchases.”
Penelope did not understand.
“Well, no doubt Lord James likes to spoil Lady Abigail…”
Jenkins shook his head again.
“Miss Jameson, they are using the Duke’s money. I don’t know how, but Lord James has no money of his own. The pair were living entirely on Lady Abigail’s monthly stipend and any winnings he may have gotten gambling. Now… somehow, they are spending a great deal more.”
“Are you certain?”
Penelope was deeply troubled by Jenkins’ accusation. It could not be true. Lady Abigail would not allow it.
“I know it is true. Everything he uses for gambling comes from Lady Abi’s stipend.”
“But then how is she able to shop as she does? Are his winnings so big and so constant?”
Jenkins grimaced.
“No. He loses everything he bets nearly every night he gambles, which is nearly a nightly occurrence.”
Penelope interrupted, “Then how is she able to shop and entertain?”
Jenkins reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out several slips of paper.
“This is how.”
Penelope took the slips and noted at the top was the name of each merchant, lower down a credited amount for purchase to be paid for by the Duke.
“No… this can’t be.” Penelope looked at each slip in shock. “Surely, they are not assuming that the Duke would pay for all of this.”
“They are, and they do. Now, I have the problem of seeing that each of these bills is paid, or these merchants can go to a collector. That would hurt His Grace’s standing with the merchants, not to mention sully his reputation with his colleagues.”
“So you have seen that these are all taken care of?”
“I have.” Jenkins sighed. “However, something has to be done. Now, not knowing where His Grace is, or in what capacity, I am uncertain how to proceed.”
Penelope sat quietly for a moment. “I think that I have an idea.”
Jenkins waited. Penelope took a deep breath.
“As you know, my grandfather is Lord Asbury. He is an Earl. This changes my social standing. This actually puts me at the same level as Lady Abigail, though I am sure that she won’t see it that way, at least at first. Let me send a message to my grandfather asking for his recommendation for a solicitor who we can go to for advice. In the meantime, let me re-establish myself as the housekeeper, only until we find a suitable replacement. Let me learn what I may. Maybe there is more to this story than we know.”
Jenkins sighed, “I doubt it, and I sincerely doubt that you, Lord Asbury, or a second solicitor can do anything. I believe it will come down to the Duke himself returning to resolve things here.”
Penelope nodded.
“You may be right, but we can still try, can we not?”
***
Penelope quietly moved back into her rooms on the third floor and immediately set about writing to her grandfather. Once she took it to Jenkins to send off, she resumed her duties as the housekeeper. The house was strangely quiet most of the day, until Lady Abigail returned. She called out for Jenkins and directed him to get her latest purchases from the carriage. Penelope, who had been waiting in the study, moved into the foyer.
“Hello,” she said simply as she nodded her head to Lady Abigail.
“What on earth are you doing here?”
Penelope smiled, “I was hired to be the housekeeper if you remember.”
Lady Abigail smirked. “Something I still do not understand. Where did you go off to anyway?” She paid no attention to Penelope, focusing instead on removing her gloves, hat, and overcoat. She laid them on the table in the center of the entrance and imperiously looked at Penelope. “Will you see to it that these are taken to my room?” She looked about without waiting for a reply. “Is my husband still at home?”
Penelope nodded. “He woke about an hour ago and requested a meal be taken up to him. Jenkins saw to it.”
Lady Abigail pursed her lips. “Very well. I will go up too.” She started to the staircase and stopped at the bottom step to turn back to Penelope.
“Oh, yes. I nearly forgot. We have visitors coming to join us for dinner. I expect you can see to it that the dining room is set for twelve tonight. Also, James was exceedingly put out when he noted that the cigar box was nearly empty. See to it that it is restocked before tonight.”
Penelope nodded and she watched Lady Abigail disappear onto the second-floor landing.
She gathered Lady Abigail’s outerwear and moved to the kitchen. There she handed off the belongings to one of the maids who immediately rushed to see them cleaned and returned to Lady Abigail’s room.
Penelope passed on Lady Abigail’s request for the dinner and the cigar box, and together with the rest of the household staff, set to work on the preparations. That night, she lingered outside the door to the dining room and she listened to the laughter and revelry of Lady Abigail, Lord James, and their guests.
The group was comprised entirely of younger men and women, as far as Penelope could tell, single men and women who spoke raucously and entirely out of order, considering their social standing. Penelope was shocked at the turn of the conversation, the discussion of the gambling houses and the brothels in the poor parts of London. She was even more shocked to learn that Lord James had taken Lady Abigail to several of the gambling houses, and that her friends appeared to be jealous of that fact.
Penelope heard a chair scrape against the floor and she moved to the side of the hall pretending to be walking past. The door opened and Lord James stepped out of the room. She turned to him.
“Will you all be moving to the parlour now?”
Lord James glanced behind him and closed the door. He smiled at Penelope and moved closer to her. “Lady Abigail is so put out that you have returned. She just cannot understand why her brother hired you.”
Penelope stepped backward, but felt the wall behind her. As Lord James closed the distance between them, alarm grew within her.
“I can see why though. I have tried to tell her. It is as plain as the nose on your face.”
Confused, Penelope summoned her voice. “What is?”
“Nat hired you because of…” he waved his hands along the sides of Penelope’s body, “…this. You are exquisite.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “A woman like you must know the needs of a man…”
Penelope had had enough. She pushed Lord James back away from her and hurried away to the kitchen, his laughter ringing out behind her.
Shaken, Penelope saw that everything was carried out as usual from the safety of the kitchen. She was appalled at Lord James’ insinuation - even more than she was at the conversation she had overheard. She wondered what the Duke would think of the things going on in his absence. Would he also be appalled? Or would he be part of it? In that moment, she realised that she really knew very little about the man. She had heard rumours about him, but had paid them no credence. After all, he had never shown any untoward treatment to her or to anyone else that she knew of. She shook her head and focused on the duties at hand. She tried to ignore the pang deep inside, her irrational fear that he would have enjoyed the conversation, and would have laughed along with Lord James in the hallway.
***
“This has gone too far, I tell you!” Jenkins nearly shouted.
“Please. Sit down. Show me.” Penelope glanced around the kitchen as Cook and the maids stared at Jenkins in surprise. He so rarely raised his voice.
Cook noted Penelope’s unspoken request and she ushered the rest of the staff out the back door.
“Come along, ladies. I git a mind to git some fresh eggs. Yous come wit me in case I git more ‘en that I can carry.”
Once the door closed behind her, Penelope turned back to Jenkins, who was red in the face. He tossed the latest bills in front of her.
She picked the first one up and gasped in shock. It was a statement of monies owed by one Nathaniel Dellwood, Duke of Derhamshire, in the sum of nearly five hundred pounds to be paid to cover a gambling loan by a gambling house near the river.
Penelope paled. This meant that not only was Lord James gambling away his wife’s money, he was also gambling under the Duke’s name.
“Oh no,” she whispered.
Jenkins slammed his hand on the table.
“His Grace would be furious!”
Penelope took a deep breath.
“May I have these?”
Jenkins stopped talking and looked at her questioningly.
“What do you intend to do with them?”
“I have not heard from my grandfather yet, but I wonder if Lady Abigail is aware of the depths of her husband’s gambling problem.”
Jenkins grew red in the face again.
“She knows.”
“How can be certain?”
Jenkins slammed his hands on the table again and stood up, pacing the floor of the kitchen, and waving his hands around in obvious frustration.
“Lady Abigail is the one who gave these to me! When I looked at them and questioned her about them, she nearly flew at me. That man has twisted her. She… she… she does not seem to care.”
Penelope looked at the other bills and laid them on the table.
“Would it not be fraud to impersonate His Grace?”
Jenkins nodded.
“Aye.”
“I hate to involve the police, but if Lady Abigail is not repentant on her husband’s behalf, then we have to assume that she is taking part in all of this. We cannot allow Lord James and Lady Abigail to further tarnish the Duke’s name.”
Jenkins nodded.
“I agree. Though, this is a sticky matter. A sticky matter indeed.”
“It is,” Penelope agreed, “I still want to keep these, if I may. At least for now. Surely, I will get word from my grandfather soon, and if not, then you and I should take these to the Duke’s solicitor. I am certain that he would have something to say about all this.”
Jenkins nodded again.
“Good plan. In the meantime, I have a list of enquiries about your position.” He sat back down and pulled a small slip of paper from his jacket. “I hope that you don’t mind - I have arranged appointments with each of these women for tomorrow, so that you and I may interview them together.”
Penelope looked over the list of names, there were six women. She nodded at Jenkins and smiled.
“Wonderful. The sooner I can shed this mantle and take on my new name the better. A Baroness visiting a solicitor will produce more results than a mere housekeeper.”
“Right you are,” agreed Jenkins.
Chapter Eight
Two days later, Penelope moved her belongings into a guest room on the second floor and helped Mrs. White move her own belongings into the Housekeeper’s rooms. Mrs. White was a kindly middle-aged woman whose references raised even Mr. Jenkin’s brows in wonder. Mrs. White was tight-lipped about her need for a new position, but even Penelope had heard the rumours of her old employer’s loss of fortune in a gamble on a shipping line to the Americas. Both Penelope and Mr. Jenkins could see that the loss had affected Mrs. White deeply, and yet there was a strength and dignity to the woman that assured them both that she was the perfect replacement for Penelope.
Mrs. White was arranging her clothes as Penelope retrieved the last of her belongings. Mrs. White, a pillar of social propriety, nodded at Penelope.
“Where will be you off to now, Miss Jameson?”
Penelope smiled kindly at the older woman. She did not want to give away the surprise that she was about to lay on Lady Abigail and Lord James, so she simply replied, “I will remain here for a few days, maybe more if Lady Abigail allows it. Though I suspect she will be eager for me to be on my way.”
Mrs. White began to question more, but thought better of it and merely nodded. Penelope left her to her unpacking, eager to be settled in her new room before Lady Abigail or Lord James noted the change.
In her own room, she changed out of her housekeeper’s attire and put on one of the fashionable dresses she had worn when visiting her grandfather, which he had provided. She piled her hair up on her head, hoping that she was doing it correctly, and she dabbed a little rouge to her cheeks. She took in her reflection. She felt as though she were staring at a stranger.
The young woman in the mirror could not be the same who so recently was in a dress too big with her hair wet and loose in a wild mess about her. She smiled at her reflection, but almost immediately a frown touched her lips as she considered why she was in that very room, to whom she owed her change in fortune.
Determined to stop tragedy from striking his reputation through his own sister, and determined to find out what had become of the Duke, Penelope picked out a hat and pinned it on. Then she tucked the receipts into her handbag, and pulling on a pair of soft gloves, she hurried to hail a hackney to take her to visit the Duke’s man of business.
Several minutes later, the carriage was moving casually along the streets of London. Penelope was confident that no one from the house had seen her leave. She watched the people on the streets and took in the older architecture of the great homes and buildings the deeper into London she traveled. Finally, the carriage stopped and the cabby called down to her.
“This be the place, Miss.”
Penelope alighted from the cab and glanced up at the driver. “Would you wait for me, please?”
He merely touched a finger to his cap as he nodded, and put the reins on a hook before him. Penelope turned to look at the tall building that the Duke’s solicitor worked from. She took a deep breath and moved up the steps and into the dim interior.
“May I help you, Miss?” a young man inquired, as she let her eyes adjust.
Penelope nodded.
“Yes. Please inform Lord Thomas Weatherly that Baroness Shelton is here to see him on urgent business.”
Lord Thomas Weatherly was the second son of the Earl of Bolton, and had taken the unusual step of choosing a career in law, rather than the army or the church, as was more normal for a second son. Penelope wondered how he would react.
The young man nodded and rushed through a side door. As Penelo
pe stood in the entrance, she overheard men’s raised voices.
“Whom?”
“Baroness Shelton?”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes! She is waiting in the foyer!”
“For goodness sake, man! Do not leave her there! See her in right away!”
She tried to hide a smile as the young man rushed back to her.
“If you please, er…”
“I should just follow you?” Penelope asked.
The young man nodded and turned to go back to the room he had just rushed out of. He stood to the side and waved her in, calling out to the men in the room.
“Presenting the Baroness Shelton.”
Penelope moved into the room and recognised Lord Thomas at once, and knew that he recognised her as well. He frowned at her while the other men stared at her in clear confusion.
“Gentlemen, would you excuse us? I have private business to attend to.”
The other men muttered, but they nodded and left the room, the young man making a point to close the door securely behind them.
Lord Thomas continued to frown at Penelope.
“What is the meaning of this? Surely you do not think you can impersonate…”
Penelope raised her hand.
“I am impersonating no one, sir.”
She moved across the room and took a seat. She folded her hands in her lap and waited for Lord Thomas to do the same.
He did.
“Explain yourself, young woman.”
Penelope tried not to grow cross with the older man, but she had no time for his air of superiority so she simply explained to him.
“As it turns out, my grandfather, the Earl of Asbury, reached out to the Duke and invited me to visit him. All a great shock to me, you must know, because I thought, as did everyone, that I was an orphan with no relations. But it seems that I am the child of his estranged eldest daughter, and her husband, who inherited the Shelton title not long before his death. And the Shelton Barony is one which can pass to a female. So, as his only child, I am now Baroness Shelton.”
“Unbelievable! You are the granddaughter of Lord Asbury?”
“I have the letter proving that fact, if seeing it will allay your concerns about my presenting myself to you in this manner.”