The two girls smiled at each other.
A sheet of paper was procured and the girls got to work. Anne wrote in large beautiful handwriting:
How to entice Lord Poyning
After a moment of thought, Anne added a few hearts and flowers around Lord Poyning’s name.
Penelope nodded approvingly, “That sort of thing is important.”
“So what is the first step?” Anne asked, chewing the end of the quill.
Penelope pulled the sheet towards herself, and after wiping off the saliva from the back of the quill, wrote:
To entice the man, befriend the friend.
Anne looked at Penelope and grinned.
“Lord Rivers,” the girls chanted.
***
Anne stormed into Penelope’s room.
“Penelope, you cannot make any mistakes today. We have offended a number of hosts and I don’t think the duke’s protection will help us much longer. It is only a matter of time before you are going to be cut by society,” Anne admonished.
“I never do anything on purpose,” Penelope said mournfully.
“I know that,” Anne said. “It is not entirely your fault, but a little bit of it is. You tend to start daydreaming or become nervous and babble. Please, you have to start taking control of that tongue of yours … and your hands and your legs.”
Penelope nodded.
“Take today for instance. You knew we were already late for Miss Rosy’s dinner. Yet you had to go and tear your dress.”
“I didn’t tear it. Mary didn’t know the brooch was pinned on and she pulled at it and the dress tore.”
“You could have warned her. I suppose you were busy dreaming of green fields and cows.”
Penelope was hurt.
Anne sighed, “I am sorry, I am just worried. This is what I suggest. Miss Rosy loves animals. She has just procured a gift from an Indian prince, a beautiful cat that she wants to show off to the ton. She has thrown this party in the animal’s honour. When she speaks to you, tell her all about your goat. She will be enchanted and thereafter you would have won over one of the most important hostesses of London society.”
“Thank you, but wouldn’t she be offended when we are late? It is a dinner party, is it not?”
“Yes, she is a stickler for time. Charles suggested that we proceed without you. We will send the carriage back and you can join us later. She won’t be so upset if the duke reaches on time.”
Penelope nodded, “I will be dressed and ready by then, and this time, Anne, nothing will go wrong.”
“I hope so. We haven’t even put our plan into action yet.”
“Tonight we will, Anne. Tonight we will.”
Penelope changed three times while the clock ticked away the hour.
It was two hours past the appointed time when Penelope finally arrived at Miss Rosy’s. Her hair was braided and piled on top of her head. Little wisps of curls had escaped, delightfully framing her face. Her dress, an elegant gold Grecian inspiration, floated about her. Her lashes were darkened and her eyes shimmered in the moonlight. This time she knew she looked the best she ever had, and she had an excellent plan. Miss Rosy would take one look at her and what she had brought along and forgive her for being two hours late. She walked a tad more confidently.
“Miss Fairweather,” the intimidating butler announced.
Penelope was not intimidated. Instead, her heart fluttered in excitement. This was it, she thought, the moment when plain old Miss Penelope Winifred Rose Spebbington Fairweather from Finnshire would be transformed into a proper London lady. She was ready to enchant, enthral and bewitch the ton. For the first time in her life she felt pretty, and that feeling was so delicious that it fizzed inside her like a bottle of champagne. She had made so many mistakes, but it was time to forget the past and begin anew. Gingerly she touched her silky skirts. She had a feeling that tonight things were going to change for the better. Her chin lifted, her back straightened, and her skirts swirled as she walked into the room.
A moment later, Penelope, with her bubbles deflated, her shoulders slumped and back bowed was seen hurtling out of Miss Rosy’s mansion followed closely by Anne and the duke. A goat with a green bonnet hanging off one ear followed running as if its life depended on it. And it did, for chasing it was the cat that had been gifted to Miss Rosy by an Indian prince. Not a tabby or a Persian or one of those black and white spotted varieties. It was a full grown cheetah that chased them back to the safety of the carriage.
“I am—” Penelope started.
“Don’t. Just don’t,” Anne growled.
Chapter 20
The Yellow Room was a sunny room with buttercup tapestries and ethereal white curtains. For generations the Radclyff family had gathered here for situations that were deemed catastrophic. The last time that it had been used was to plan an escape when war was at its peak.
The current situation was considered dire enough for the family to once again throw open the rosewood doors of the Yellow Room. The members of the Radclyff family (with the exception of Sir Henry), along with Penelope as the guilty party, Madame Bellafraunde as the wise council, and Lady Bathsheba as the witness, assembled here to debate the latest calamity to befall the Blackthorne Mansion. The soothing pale room was meant to have a calming effect and allow the family to think clearly and calmly.
“We will be ruined! Ruined, disowned, cut off, snubbed by every member of the ton. I am not going to have this creature living under my roof a moment longer,” the duke shouted.
“We are the Radclyff family. We have honour. We cannot abandon a poor soul just because she happened to bring her pet along to a dinner party,” Lady Anne screeched.
“Now, now, children. Calm down,” the dowager said soothingly.
“Calm down? We had to rush out of Lady Virginia’s ball because she ripped the hostess’s gown off. Thereafter, she upset you, Anne, by dumping a glass of wine on that fool Poyning. And then we were chased by a cheetah because this imbecile brought a goat along. Who told her to do such an idiotic thing?”
“Let’s talk about this calmly,” the dowager tried again.
“Charles,” Anne bellowed over her mother’s voice. “You are a duke. No one can dare cut you or any of your family members. Since when have you become such a cowardly nitwit?”
“Nitwit? It does not affect me but you. You are the nitwit. I am concerned about your welfare. No one will marry you if you befriend such a—”
“Hush, Charles, you cannot call poor Miss Fairweather names,” the dowager interrupted.
“I don’t care if no one marries me, I want Penelope to stay,” Anne yelled.
“Silence,” Madame finally roared. “Please sit down and let us discuss this like civilised beings.”
The duke and Anne sat, albeit reluctantly.
Penelope kept her eyes pinned on the swirly ochre flower woven into the carpet.
“Now,” Madame said calmly, “what happened to Lady Virginia was an accident and everyone including Lady Virginia has been gracious enough to consider it as such. As for Lord Poyning, he has not complained about Miss Fairweather dousing him with wine. On the contrary, he has only had wonderful things to say about Miss Fairweather.”
“How do you know?” the duke interrupted.
“Madame knows everything,” the dowager cut in. “Go on, Madame. What about Miss Rosy?”
“Miss Rosy has a number of pets as you are well aware. She keeps a number of dogs, cats, birds, horses and pigs in her home. She was going to let Puddles, that is the cheetah, become acquainted with her home and then slowly introduce him to the rest of her pets. She now realises that Puddles would most likely eat her darling pigs, birds, poodles and whatnot. She is much indebted to Lady Bathsheba for helping her understand that she cannot control a full grown cheetah. She is also thankful that it was Lady Bathsheba who was thus frightened rather than one of her own beloved and sensitive animals. Apparently they suffer from nerves. She is going to call on you, your grac
e, because she wants to personally thank the goat and offer her a bag of carrots as compensation for temporarily scaring the life out of her. As for Puddles, he is on his way back to where he came from.”
Penelope perked up after hearing this.
“Yes, but we may not be so fortunate the next time. I am sorry, Miss Fairweather, but I agree with Charles. Another mistake like this and I will be forced to send you back to Finnshire,” the dowager said unhappily.
“Mother?” Anne said shocked.
“I am sorry, Anne, but the ton is not going to remain passive if things continue as they are. The ladies are going to start giving her the cut direct, and rather than allow her to face the humiliation, it will be kinder to let her go home,” the dowager explained.
Penelope promptly burst into noisy tears. Lady Bathsheba got up and walked away.
“Disloyal lump of mutton,” Penelope sobbed into her handkerchief.
“This is what I suggest,” Madame said. “Give the girl to me for two days and two nights. After that allow her one last chance to prove herself. If the night goes smoothly, then let her stay. Otherwise pack her bags and send her on her way.”
“Yes!” Anne exclaimed.
“No!” the duke roared.
“One last chance?” the dowager said thoughtfully. “You think that you can bring about a change in her in only two days?”
“I can try. I think I know what to do about her habit of babbling when nervous. If that is in control, then the confidence will follow,” Madame replied.
“Alright,” the dowager said. “It is Lord Bloodworth’s party in three days’ time. If she manages to survive it without a mishap, then she can stay.”
“But, Mother …” the duke spluttered.
“Charles, you don’t think Miss Fairweather is capable of handling the season. And if you are so certain that she will not survive the party, then let us have our way. She has one chance, and if she fails, then you will have your wish and she will go home,” the dowager replied in a tone that clearly signalled the end of the conversation.
“Miss Fairweather, we don’t have time to waste,” Madame said, yanking Penelope off the sofa and dragging her out of the room.
***
A detailed schedule of the next two days was handed to Penelope. Penelope read over the chart and wondered if it wasn’t better to take the next post-chaise back to Finnshire.
“When do I eat?” Penelope asked. “It doesn’t say here.”
“Today you eat while walking,” Madame replied briskly.
“Walking?”
“Yes. You cannot, absolutely cannot, waddle any longer, Miss Fairweather.”
“I waddle?”
“Like a one winged duck.”
And thus the two days of intensive training began …
“Walk, Miss Fairweather, sway your hips …”
“But, Madame, I am blindfolded. I can’t see … Ouch.”
“I want you to use your senses. Beyond sight there is touch, scent and sound. Use them and glide like a swan over a crystal lake, barely causing any ripples. Not like a bear trampling in the woods ….”
***
Later that night …
“You are nodding off again, Miss Fairweather. Up you get. We still have to go over your fan work.”
“We already went over it a hundred and sixty times. I counted.”
“Well, this is the hundred and sixty first. Now, place your fan … Unfurl … Close …”
***
At half past six the next morning Penelope snored. A feather tickled her nose. She sneezed and rolled over.
A moment later a loud blast of sound had Penelope shooting upright on the couch. “Wha … Wazzaat? Whazzappened?”
Madame stood with a trumpet in her hand.
“You have had plenty of sleep. It is time to practice.”
Penelope looked at Madame through bloodshot eyes. She glanced at the clock.
“I have slept for fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, well that’s long enough.”
“I quit,” she said pathetically.
Madame handed her a cup of tea and tapped her foot impatiently.
“I mean it. I quit, Madame. I cannot do this any longer. I want to go back to Finnshire.”
“Very good, my dear. You can go back as soon as we finish practising the Quadrille.”
“No.”
“You will practice.”
“I will not.”
“Miss Fairweather, you have five minutes ….”
“Oh, alright, but I am leaving right after.”
Chapter 21
The mood in the house was sombre. It felt as if someone had died in the Blackthorne Mansion. Even the maids were seen sporting funeral expressions.
It was that day, the day on which all of Penelope’s hopes were pinned. It was the day of Lord Bloodworth’s party.
Madame personally supervised Penelope’s toilette for the grand occasion. Penelope, clad in burgundy silk, stood staring at herself in the mirror while Madame swept her hair back into a low coif. Not one stray curl dared to escape the pins today. The dowager arrived to present her with ruby earrings and a necklace to match. Penelope took it and wore it with the air of a soldier pinning his medals in place before leaving for war.
A dry eyed Penelope bid her goat goodbye, and then at a measured pace walked towards the carriage. The sight of Perkins waving a white handkerchief at her as the carriage rolled away almost cracked her composure. But she quickly regained her poise and her eyes remained clear and bright all through the journey.
Penelope walked into Lord Bloodworth’s twinkling house without a single misstep. Her hips swayed, the polite smile on her face stayed fixed, and she successfully imagined each and every one of the hundred and fifty guests present in bright pink bloomers.
A peculiar sort of detachment had come over her since early that morning. She was tired, tired of fighting and of trying to please. She no longer cared if she spoke out of turn or did the wrong thing. All she wanted was the night to be over with so she could go home, curl up in bed and go to sleep for the next twelve hours.
She strolled through the crowd with her chin up and her shoulders pulled back. The assembled guests mistook her detachment for pride, the sort of pride that comes from confidence. She sparkled and her charm was magnified by the mere fact that she did not know it.
After an hour of gliding through the crowd and two glasses of tepid wine later, Penelope had reached the spiritual state of being merrily tipsy. It was that perfect state when everything starts looking wonderful and every tragedy turns into a comedy. She was suddenly filled with joy. The lack of sleep and starved diet added to her delirious state. She felt full of love for her fellow human beings. She spotted Anne’s sullen face and her heart felt like it would burst in affection for her dear friend. She wanted to hug Anne, enfold her in a warm embrace and tell her that things will be alright. But she was not so foxed yet, and recognizing the slippery slope she was heading down she put away her glass of wine.
But she was tipsy enough to make a vow and act on it. She, Penelope Fairweather, decided to ensure that Anne got her Poyning tonight.
“Can you spot them?” Penelope whispered to Anne.
“They just arrived. Are you sozzled?” Anne asked.
“Just a touch. Nothing to worry about,” Penelope said, standing on her tippy toes to get a look at the entrance. She couldn’t see a blasted thing.
“Drink the lemonade. At least you are not slurring,” Anne muttered. She didn’t have time to scold.
Penelope drained the sickly sweet drink.
“They are coming this way. How do I look,” Anne asked nervously.
“Beautiful,” Penelope said loyally. The blue silk that Anne wore was not doing much for her complexion, but it did show her figure to an advantage.
A minute later Anne shifted positions so that they purposely bumped into Lord Rivers and Lord Poyning.
“Miss Fairweather,” exclaimed Lord P
oyning, his face lighting up in delight.
Penelope frowned and then forced a smile. She would have liked the man to keep his enthusiasm for Anne.
“Miss Fairweather,” Lord Rivers greeted her with a good deal less fervour.
“Miss Fairweather,” Lady Lydia said, coming up to join them.
Penelope rapidly inclined her head to all three, beginning to feeling a little uncomfortable at all the staring eyes. She felt the words rise up her throat and tickle her tongue, and she quickly sipped her lemonade. Madame’s solution to her little babbling problem was to keep her mouth busy drinking water or lemonade every time she felt rattled. She realised it was working. The words had been washed away. She smiled more confidently and took another big gulp.
“Anne, Mother sent me to dance with you,” the duke said coming up to join the party.
“Mother sent you to dance with Miss Fairweather,” Anne hissed at her brother.
The duke’s mouth twisted in distaste, but he kept his tone polite when he said, “Come along then,” to Penelope.
“Come along?” Penelope asked.
“If you would rather not?” the duke suggested hopefully.
“Oh, don’t be silly, Charles. Miss Fairweather is too shy, and I doubt she will be able to dance in such a gathering. Didn’t you tell me she is from some small uncultured village? Don’t be unkind. I will partner you. It is so rare that we get a chance to dance together,” Lady Lydia said smiling sweetly up at the duke.
Anne raised her foot to stomp on Lady Lydia’s feet when Penelope’s voice halted her.
“If by ‘come along’ you were asking me to dance, then, your grace, I would be delighted to accompany you,” Penelope said. Her colour was high, but her voice was rock steady.
The duke shot his fiancée an apologetic glance and led Penelope to the floor.
The musicians struck the first note. It was a melancholy twang. An echo of love lost.
He touched her waist and she, keeping her face averted, stepped forward to meet him.
“Are you alright?” he asked gently.
Her eyes leaped to his face. She was surprised that he had remembered. It felt like it had happened so long ago.
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