by Abigail Agar
“Yes, Your Grace,” Clint said as Jules felt the footman take his position at the back of the carriage. A moment after the carriage door closed, Clint’s weight pivoted up into the carriage seat, and there was a snap of the reins.
Jules regretted his hasty instructions almost immediately, but the pain would be worth the end results if Lady Winchester were safe. They moved over the ground so swiftly that Jules thought they might very well just fly off the road. He braced himself with shaking arms.
“Do you need a bracing?” Daniel asked as he leaned forward in his seat, ready to sit next to the Duke and give him his shoulder for support.
Jules gave a shaky laugh. “I think that brandy might be good now.”
With a laugh, Daniel nodded and quickly swapped seats so that Jules could use his shoulder to brace himself. “It is a good thing that the Winchester estate is not any further away than it is, Your Grace.”
“There is always a blessing, is there not?” Jules leaned his head back and tried his best to just not think of the wetness against his right side, or what that wetness meant. No, he would last long enough to see this through. Jules swore that to the very wind that howled past the carriage window. “Is that a banshee coming for my soul or a storm, I wonder?”
Daniel looked over at the carriage window. “I think it might be a storm, but I shall have them play the bagpipes to scare the old girl away, Your Grace.”
Jules gave a fatigued laugh. “You are a good man, Daniel.”
Chapter 13
(Winchester Estate - Earlier in the evening of the party.)
“You look like a vision of shimmering gold,” Lady Winchester said in adoration that Penelope seldom heard from the woman as she came down the stairs into the foyer.
Penelope gave her mother a smile. “I feel a bit odd with my hair up like this,” she said as she patted her hair which had been twisted up into a rather uncomfortable top bun and adorned with some flowers.
“I think you look beautiful like that. I must admit that I get used to your hair down, but it really is quite exquisite up like that.” Lady Winchester gave Penelope’s arm a gentle pat.
Despite the dress being wool, Penelope felt rather comfortable. “It is just a good thing the temperatures have chosen to dip lower tonight. I should hate to ruin this dress by sweating through it.”
“I fear that we may get a storm actually,” Lady Winchester said as she steered Penelope towards the kitchens. “Now, you did eat earlier, did you not?”
Penelope rolled her eyes, making sure her mother did not see the gesture. “Of course, Mother. You always say to eat an hour before a party. I have not forgotten.”
“Very good,” Lady Winchester said as if she were doting on a small child who had answered a quiz correctly.
“Ah, I am so glad that I caught you, two ladies, before the guests began to arrive,” Miss Lorraine said as she came out of the dining hall and into the kitchen. She held a glass of golden liquid that Penelope was sure would end up being wine if she were to ask, not that she would.
Lady Winchester smiled, her lips turning ever so slightly downward as if the smile very much wanted to be a frown. “Madam Lorraine, I was wondering if you would be out for the party.”
“I would not miss it. You throw such wonderful parties, Lady Winchester,” Miss Lorraine said, her soft French accent accentuating every word.
Penelope smiled at Miss Lorraine, a genuine and warm smile. “I am glad to see you out and about as well. Have you heard from your captain then?”
“Who knows the heart of men,” Miss Lorraine said as she raised her shoulders in a dismissive shrug. “Life is to be lived with or without their scowling faces.”
Lady Winchester shook her head. “I was not aware that you had a paramour.”
“He is merely an old friend, but he is an old friend who wishes he was more than that at times,” Miss Lorraine told Lady Winchester much to Penelope’s amusement at the look on her mother’s face.
Lady Winchester frowned slightly. “Well, I do hope your friend can be in attendance.” She turned towards Penelope. “Do remember your promise, will you not?”
“I will, Mother,” Penelope assured the woman as Lady Winchester swept out of the kitchen. The cook who had barely looked up when the women all entered the kitchen, sighed and carried on with her work.
Miss Lorraine giggled and slipped her arm through one of Penelope’s golden encased arms. “So, is your Duke to be in attendance?”
Penelope felt her heart fall into her stomach at the question. Miss Lorraine must have seen the expression change because she gently rubbed Penelope’s forearm then. Penelope shook her head. Her words were mere whispers. “According to his letter, I should say not. He has things to do.”
“Things more important than love?” Miss Lorraine seemed astounded by the very notion. “Why, he might not be worthy of such a prize as you then.”
Penelope leaned her head to the side, the weight of her hair making her regret the motion instantly as she brought her head back up straight. “I keep trying to tell myself that it is better to know this of the man beforehand, yet I find I wish I were more ignorant.”
“With men, sometimes ignorance is a blessing,” Miss Lorraine agreed. “Are you so ready to give up on the grandeur of love then?”
They walked back towards the foyer as the sound of a carriage outside echoed dimly. “No, not just yet.”
They shared a smile before Penelope cringed at the booming of her father’s voice. “Penelope, I should like a word.” The man loomed out of his study, and Penelope reluctantly left her governess behind to see what her father wanted.
The man held the door to his study open until she was through, so as not to snag her delicate dress. “Please do sit down,” Lord Winchester thundered; his voice was not angry, but merely too loud. Penelope often wondered if being down on the docks or perhaps hunting had damaged her father’s hearing beyond repair.
Penelope did as he asked and sat down on the edge of one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. Lord Winchester settled himself in his desk chair and propped his hands up on the desktop. He smiled over at her.
“I should like you to know that I have received an offer of marriage for you,” Lord Winchester said with as pleased an expression as Penelope had ever seen.
Penelope’s heart leaped clear into her throat at her father’s words. It took a moment for her to register that he was waiting on a response. Penelope cleared her throat and asked, “Can I ask who it is from?”
“A merchant by the name of Gregory Stalson. Apparently, you made quite the impression on him at the Havenshire dance you attended.” Lord Winchester tapped the top of the desk. “He seems to have a good head on his shoulders.”
“I am sorry,” Penelope said in confusion. “Did you say merchant?”
Lord Winchester nodded. “Yes, why?”
“I …” Penelope’s words trailed off. How could she tell her father that she did not even recall the man he was speaking of? “I was just caught off-guard.”
Lord Winchester eyed her for a moment then he laughed. “You do not know who he is, do you?”
Penelope opened and closed her mouth for a moment before she bowed her head in defeat. “I think I might know who he is, but I did not even recall his name. It does not even sound familiar now that I hear it.”
“To tell you the truth, I think he might be a bit dull for you, beneath you even,” Lord Winchester said with a solid thump on the desk. “And if you think so too, then I shall tell you of the letter I received from the Duke of Richmond.”
At the mention of the Duke, Penelope’s head popped up. “And what was in that letter?”
“It contained an apology for his not being able to be here tonight with us,” Lord Winchester said as if there were more to it, but the man seemed content to keep it to himself.
Penelope frowned. “Father, what are you not telling me?”
“I just thought it oddly thoughtful that he should s
end both myself and you a letter about the party,” Lord Winchester said as he leaned forward a bit.
Penelope crossed her arms in irritation. “The doorman told you of the letter he sent me?”
“It is my estate, Daughter,” Lord Winchester said pointedly. “As much as it is clear to me that the man has some interest in you, I must warn you, Penelope that the Duke of Richmond is in no great standing at present. You might do well to take the merchant.”
Penelope sighed at her father. “You were ready to pack me up and send me home with the Duke the last time he was here.”
“Yes, well, you had no prospects then,” Lord Winchester said with a dismissive flick of his wrist.
She scoffed. “I have no prospects now. That merchant could barely look at me for looking at other women. I would not be surprised if he did not send the letter by mistake or out of desperation because he knew no one else would even consider it.”
“I have to consider what is best for you in all cases.” Her father leaned back in his chair, his hands over his belly. The sounds of guests arriving brought them both back to the awareness of the time. “Now, I know your mother has been at you to make a good showing tonight, and I want to put my piece in as well. It would do us all good if you made sure that everyone sees the best of you, Penelope. You have so much to offer that you would almost certainly marry well if you just tried a bit.”
Penelope wanted to scream out of frustration, but she smoothed her dress as she stood up. “I have already assured Mother that I will do my utmost to make you both proud, and now I tell you the same thing, Father. Please, believe me when I tell you that I have no interest in bringing shame to this family.”
Lord Winchester regarded her for a long moment before he nodded. “I do believe that you are telling the truth, dear Daughter. Now, I need to get out front before your mother forgets herself.”
Penelope bit down on her tongue. Her mother was more than capable of taking care of greeting guests, but Penelope had no interest in getting in the middle of any of their marital spats at the moment. She simply nodded and left the room.
She avoided the foyer and went through the dining hall. She had no interest in getting caught up in greetings just yet. She would no doubt be spending most of her evening curtsying and smiling. Her face hurt already just from the thought of it.
The sounds of the musicians her mother had hired drifted out and down the halls from the ballroom. The ballroom of their manor house was small enough that Lady Winchester often had cards made to allow smaller groups to dance in an orderly fashion. Penelope had thus far avoided her mother and her dance cards, but she was certain that she would be given one before the night was over with.
“Penelope,” a young female voice squealed, and Penelope turned to see the niece of Dowager Reynolds. The girl had been introduced to Penelope a few years before when they both were taking dance instruction.
Penelope smiled at the younger girl. “Hen.” Penelope smiled.
Henrietta relaxed with visible relief. “It is nice to see someone I know. I did not get a chance to speak with you at the last party. I only saw you right before you left.”
“I wish that I had seen you,” Penelope said with honesty. “But we have seen each other tonight, and we shall be comrades against whatever comes our way. So, did you meet any nice young men yet?”
Henrietta sighed and flapped her arms most unbecomingly. Penelope covered her mouth as she laughed. Henrietta said with a grimace, “To be honest, my aunt just keeps introducing me to those old men. I know this is just my first Season, but I am already regretting it. What if I end up married to a man as old as my own father?”
“Perhaps your aunt is looking more for herself?” Penelope suggested as she gave Hen’s shoulder a playful push with her own shoulder.
Henrietta snickered and hid her hand behind one of Lady Winchester’s dance cards. “I think I find that more disturbing actually.”
“Oh no, Mother got you with one of her cards,” Penelope said with a cluck of her tongue. “Now you shall have to dance.”
Hen shook her finger. “Not if I do not get asked.” She shrugged. “Besides, I like dancing, even with old men. Dancing is nice.”
“Yes, it is,” Penelope admitted as they turned and walked towards the ballroom. There were people walking around and listening to the music, but no dancing had yet begun.
Hen whispered, “Did you ever get your voucher for Alamack?”
The thought of the once treasured and sought after voucher had left Penelope some time ago. Penelope shook her head. “No, but truthfully that does not bother me. Did your aunt secure you one?”
“Oh yes,” Hen said with a smile that showed pride. “I just wish that you could go with me. I shall be ever so frightened by my lonesome.”
Penelope flicked her wrist. “You will have your aunt and plenty of young gentlemen to keep you busy.”
“There is your Mother, and I think she has your card with her,” Hen said with a grin.
It took all she could do not to groan out loud when Penelope turned to see her mother swishing skirts and all headed towards her with determination. Lady Winchester smiled so broadly that Penelope wondered if the woman had hit her head upon something while searching for her.
“Hello, Mother, I was just entertaining Henrietta,” Penelope said pleasantly as her mother held out the rectangular piece of paper. “Oh, I had wondered if I was getting one. Now I do not get to miss out on the dancing.”
“I shall ignore the tone,” Lady Winchester informed her daughter with a disapproving look. “Henrietta Douglas, you look lovely. Is that a new dress?”
Hen beamed and twirled a bit to show off the way the dress moved. “My mother had it sent to me. She is still in the Americas with my father.” The girl’s smile dimmed some at her last words.
Penelope put her arm around Henrietta’s shoulders. “I am sure she knows that you will make her proud.”
“I do hope that I do,” Hen said with a watery smile as she fought back the tears.
Lady Winchester gave Hen’s shoulder an encouraging pat. “From all I have heard, you have done yourself quite proud already this season.”
There was a deep blush on Henrietta’s face at Lady Winchester’s words. “I do not know about that.”
“It will all be fine,” Lady Winchester assured the young woman before she swept off to greet a tall gentleman who had come into the ballroom.
Penelope whispered, “Do you think your father would mind if I sent my mother to the Americas so that yours could come here?”
“You are horrible,” Hen said with barely hidden laughter. “Are you trying to get in trouble then?”
Penelope shook her head. “No. Actually, I am determined to be on my best behaviour tonight.”
“I am glad to see you more like your old self,” Hen remarked. “Oh, my aunt is calling me over. Talk to you in a bit?”
Penelope nodded vaguely as she thought of Hen’s words. She watched the young woman hurry over to Dowager Reynolds who quickly swept the girl away to meet someone. Had she really changed so much?
Penelope slipped her dance card into her bag that hung at her wrist as she wandered out of the ballroom. The halls were filled with light echoes of the music, the clink of glasses, and the murmur of voices. The wool had not felt so constricting, but with the warm press of bodies and candles, it had begun to feel heavy upon her skin.