On the evening of the third day, Lady Penelope heard a noise at the window sounding much like a pebble hitting the glass pane. She padded over, opened the sash, and glanced down to see her groom, Nathanial Penistone, standing in the Square and earnestly looking up. ‘My Lady,’ he whispered up as loudly as he dared. ‘Hannah is concerned and has sent me to check that all is well. Captain Blackmore has made a miraculous recovery and since our dismissal, we suspect that all is not as it should be.’
‘Oh, Nat, indeed it is not,’ she replied in desperation. ‘Oh, it was all a trick and now I am a prisoner in this room. I must get away from here!’
Nathanial brought is finger to his lips. ‘Shh, My Lady, Captain Blackmore may hear you. I will leave you now, but I promise to come back. I will do everything in my power to get you out of there. I swear it.’ Nat crept back into the shadows in the direction of the Blackfriars and left Lady Winterbourne doubting if he had been there at all. Nat, however, had been no apparition and she began to feel some hope in her heart. She did not know what Nat was planning, but she must be prepared. Whatever the eventuality, she must be ready to move at a moments notice. Pulling out a large bag from under the bed, she stuffed it with some necessities in the renewed hope of making an escape. Nat had made her a promise and she had no doubt that he would come through. He had been her faithful groom for fifteen years and had always proved to be a port in a storm. She should have known that she could rely on Nat.
At noon on the following day, Captain Blackmore left the house. He did not notice the tall, slim man across the square with his back turned to him and flirting with a young woman in a dark blue, hooded cape. As the Captain left Charlotte Square, Nat looked up. ‘It is now or never Hannah. Return to the carriage in Blackfriars and send Mallory to me. Wait for us there and if we are not back within half an hour fetch the constable.’
Nat waited for five minutes for Mallory to arrive and they both crossed Charlotte Square to Lady Winterbourne’s house. In his mind, he still viewed his mistress as Lady Winterbourne for her new married name stuck in his throat every time he uttered it. Nathanial rapped loudly on the knocker and Jennings, the new butler, opened the door. Nathanial gave Jennings a cordial greeting. ‘I have come to see Mrs Blackmore. Can you let her know that Mr. Nathanial Penistone and Mr. John Mallory have arrived to speak with her?’
The new butler looked at them with suspicion. He had strict instructions not to let anyone in. ‘I am afraid the mistress is not receiving visitors,’ Jennings replied curtly as he began to shut the door. Like lightening, Nathanial put his foot in the threshold and drew out a Flintlock pistol. ‘Oh, I think she is,’ Nat retorted as he stepped forward and both he and Mallory forced their way into the hall. Nathanial nodded to Mallory. ‘Guard him, I shall collect My Lady.’ Mallory held Jennings at bay with a pistol of his own while Nathanial climbed the stairs two at a time to his mistress’s bedchamber.
He tried the door, but it was locked. ‘My Lady, it is Nat,’ he shouted through the door. ‘Stand back, I need to force the lock.’ He shot at the lock and with the full force of his strength kicked the door open. His mistress was standing beside the bed looking thin and drawn, but obviously pleased to see him. ‘Oh Nathanial, thank god you have come,’ she exclaimed with relief. Penelope grabbed her bag from under the bed, but before she left, she ran to the Urn she kept on the mantel. Turning out the contents, she retrieved a small bundle of notes hidden in the bottom. ‘My emergency store,’ she explained as she stuffed the money down her bodice. Nat held out his hand. ‘Hurry My Lady; we may not have much time. Captain Blackmore could return at any moment.’
Penelope grabbed his hand and the pair fled down the stairs to where Mallory still stood with Jennings in his pistol sights. Jennings, a man with few morals, had been employed for his willing support and his discretion, but he was not prepared to argue with the barrel of a pistol, not even for Captain Blackmore. Nathanial brought the butt of his Flintlock down on the butler’s head and he dropped to the ground like a stone. ‘That should keep him quiet for a while. Quickly, let us get out of here,’ he urged as they fled through the front door and into the afternoon sun.
The three fled the house, ran across the Square and into the alley leading to Blackfriars, an old establishment built for the Dominican Monks famous for their black garb. It was now used as a meeting place and living quarters for members of the cities’ guild. Hannah was waiting there with Lady Penelope’s Barouche and her two black stallions, fretting at the bits and eager for the journey ahead. Nat had no trouble collecting them from the Mews as everyone still thought him to be in his mistress’s employ. He had just casually walked in, hitched the horses to the Barouche and left without any hint of opposition. Lady Penelope climbed into the Barouche beside Hannah and Nathanial took the ribbons, leaving Mallory standing on the pavement. Having thanked her butler for his loyalty and assistance, and assuring herself that he was well and had somewhere to go, Mrs Blackmore placed five of her precious pounds in his hand and bade him farewell. ‘Take care of yourself, Mallory, I sincerely wish you well and hope that we shall meet again. And thank you for everything.’
‘A pleasure, my Lady,’ he replied as he raised his hat and said a final farewell.
Keeping his pistol at his side, Nathanial moved off into the Newcastle Streets. He would have to proceed with caution; the danger was not over yet.
Hannah handed her mistress a burgundy, hooded cape. ‘Here, My Lady, put this on until we leave the City Streets. It is important that you are not seen.’ Penelope did as she was instructed and pulled the hood over her head, keeping it there until Nat exited the city, hoping all the while that her equipage would not be recognised. Nat manoeuvred his team through the Sand Gate, down to the riverbank and paid the toll to cross the new stone bridge over the River Tyne. It was not long before they reached Gateshead and it was only then that Lady Penelope ventured to speak. ‘Hannah, where exactly are you taking me? For truly, I have nowhere to go.’
Hannah gave a broad smile. ‘Do not worry about that My Lady, everything is planned. We are heading for the coast. My mother lives on a farmstead just outside the village of Whitburn. It is not quite what you are used to, but it is clean and comfortable and it will be a safe retreat until you decide what to do. What is more, I do not think that Captain Blackmore will find you there.’
Penelope took Hannah’s hand and squeezed it. ‘I cannot thank you enough Hannah, but are you sure your mama will not mind. It is no mean thing to have a guest forced on you without any notice. It may be too much for her.’
‘No, mama is very hospitable,’ Hannah reassured. ‘It is no grand house, My Lady. It is just a humble farmstead with a few chickens, a couple of pigs and a cow, but it is clean and spacious.’
Nat turned his head. ‘No My Lady, there is no need to worry about Rosie. My mother-in- law is a real prime article, a regular out and outer. She will be pleased to help us.’
It was early evening when Nat turned the Barouche into the narrow lane leading to the Farmstead. Hannah’s mother was just cooping the chickens for the night when her daughter arrived and a huge Irish wolfhound bounded up to the Barouche in unrestrained excitement. Hannah descended from the Barouche and patted the dog on the head as it jumped up to lick her face. ‘Down Jorgie Boy!’ she commanded as she pushed him away to prevent him from knocking her over. The dog sat on its haunches, its tail thumping furiously on the ground and its tongue lolling in excitement. Rosie looked up at the commotion and gave Hannah a warm smile. ‘Why Hannah, Nat, what a wonderful surprise and I see we have a guest.’ Rosie gave Penelope a warm greeting, but taking in her expensive clothes and aristocratic bearing, she was perplexed.
Hannah introduced her. ‘Mama, this is Lady Winterbourne - I mean -err, Mrs Blackmore - I mean err - My Lady.’ Hannah looked embarrassed because she did not quite know how to introduce her Mistress. Penelope held out her hand and solved the problem for her. ‘Please, just call me Penelope for I hardly know myself. I refuse
to be called Mrs Blackmore, but I suppose I am no longer Lady Winterbourne. I am sure you will understand when all has been explained to you.’
The dog approached Penelope and sniffed the ground at her feet. This was most definitely a new smell, a human he had not met before, but if his beloved mistress had no objection, then neither did he. He licked Penelope’s hand in doggy approval as she reached down to stroke his head and the wolfhound decided that this human was welcome.
Rosie rubbed her hands on her Apron and not quite comfortable with using her guest’s Christian name faltered. ‘Well, err - Lady Penelope, please forgive Jorgie. I am afraid he can be rather excitable. We named him after our beloved King, as the animal is as mad as a March hare. But come inside and I will brew some tea. I am sure you must be thirsty after coming all the way from Newcastle.’
Penelope smiled. ‘I like dogs Mrs Haldane, he is a fine animal and I imagine he is a good guard dog, and yes some refreshment would be welcome.’
Penelope and Hannah went into the farmhouse with Jorgie padding behind them and Nat went to settle the horses in the large spacious barn. Penelope immediately found herself in a large living room and kitchen area. She had expected it to be small and dismal, but it was large and homely, and the furniture, although not of the finest, was sturdy and of good quality beech wood. Two large comfortable Settles stood on either side of the fireplace covered with scatter cushions that were neither faded nor worn, and a huge copper pot full of freshly made lamb stew was bubbling on the hearth over a warm and welcoming fire.
Penelope was extremely surprised and she wondered how a poor widow could afford, if not quite luxury, such decided comfort. The enclosures Act had forced many local peasants and farmers into poverty, with landowners paying low wages and demanding higher rents, but Rosie did not appear to be affected. It would have been rude to enquire if Rosie was just a tenant or whom the Landlord was, so Penelope although curious, remained silent. It was certainly no regular farmstead, and Rosie must have had a very good landlord indeed.
Rosie invited Penelope to sit on one of the Settles with Hannah while she brewed them some tea and the Wolfhound settled at their feet. Between them, they managed to relate to Rosie the unique situation in which they found themselves and the news that she was to have a guest for the foreseeable future. Rosie did not bat an eyelid, but told Penelope that she was welcome to stay for as long as she wished. Nat arrived from the barn just as Rosie was serving up the tea and rubbed his hands together in anticipation of a nice hot brew. Jorgie looked up as he entered, but deciding that he was far too comfortable, just gave a welcoming gruff and settled his rascally head back on Penelope’s feet.
Penelope took a sip of her tea and was agreeably surprised. It was of the finest, and as tea was not exactly a cheap commodity, she once again found herself wondering how Rosie could afford it. Penelope decided to test the waters. ‘This is fine tea, Mrs Haldane. Is it a local brew?’
Rosie eyed her warily. ‘Aye, I suppose you could say that. I got it local like. There is many as drinks it around these parts.’
Penelope smiled and took another sip. ‘It is so fine, one wonders if it has ever seen import duty,’ she remarked curiously.
Rosie looked suspicious. ‘Well, as they say that four- fifths of all tea is smuggled through the ports, it’s likely that it has not, but that has nought to do with me. Anyway, enough about tea,’ she said, trying to change the subject. She turned to her daughter. ‘Hannah, take Lady Penelope to my room and see her settled. You know where to find the clean linen. I will have to share your old room with you and I am afraid, Nat will have to sleep in the barn until I can acquire a truckle bed. When you have cleaned and brushed up, I will serve up some supper. Fortunately, I have a large pan of lamb stew simmering on the hearth.’
Hannah accompanied Penelope up the narrow wooden stairs to a small but comfortable furnished bedroom. It was well appointed with a single bed, a wardrobe, and a small chest on which stood a washstand. The window faced toward the sea, which she could just make out in the distance. Penelope looked out at the view while Hannah put clean sheets on the bed and filled her washstand. She sighed longingly. Penelope loved the sea and it had been such a long time since she had seen it. The Winterbourne estate was situated by the sea on the West Coast of Scotland and she missed the beautiful vistas and the sound of the waves gently lapping on the shore. Hannah disturbed her thoughts. ‘Well My Lady, I will leave you to unpack your bag and brush up a little, and we will see you downstairs for something to eat.’
Penelope turned to her gratefully. ‘Thank you Hannah, I have not been able to bring very much with me so I doubt I will be very long. I will be down in half an hour.’
Hannah returned downstairs to find Nathanial in earnest conversation with her mother. She was just in time to catch her mother’s words. ‘I understand why you have brought her here Nat, but you must realise that it is damned inconvenient. You know what kind of business we are running here and the worst thing is, there is a run tonight. Why do you think I have a big pan of stew on the go? It is to fortify the lads before they venture out.’
‘Ah, do not worry, Rosie,’ Nat replied. ‘I have known Lady Winterbourne for longer than I have known you and she is sound. She is a right rum un, even if I say so myself. She will not say or do anything to compromise you.’
Rosie looked dubious and sucked in a breath. ‘Ah, you say that Nat, but how do I know she can be trusted. She is as sharp as a needle that one. I did not like the way she quizzed me about the tea. I tell you Nat, the locals are not going to like this one little bit. I only hope she sleeps right through it, but after what she had gone through, I doubt it.’
Hannah by that time had walked into the room to hear the end of the conversation. ‘Mama, I do not think you need to worry about Lady Winterbourne. She is the most indulgent of employers. Why she even allowed Nat and me to marry and gives us time off to come and visit you. You know what some of the aristocracy are like; they would not countenance such a thing. I know this is the first time you have met her, but Lady Winterbourne is a real trooper.’
‘Well, let us hope you are right,’ Rosie said with reservation. ‘I only hope you are right about her sense of loyalty to you, especially after what you have done for her this day. I tell you now Nat, if I feel it is necessary, I will be plying her with brandy, or failing that, I will be slipping some laudanum in her tea after supper as I cannot take the risk.’
They heard the rustle of skirts at the top of the stairs and turned their heads to see Lady Penelope descending. Rosie stood up. ‘Ah, there you are Lady Penelope, come and join us for some supper.’ Penelope sat at the table while Rosie served the supper and Nat cut up a loaf of fresh baked bread. Penelope looked around her and reflected to herself. Hannah was right, this was certainly not what she was used to, but she had never felt more at home. Nat, she knew of long standing and she could expect his loyalty, but unlike her acquaintances in Newcastle, Hannah had proved dependable and her mother welcoming. Even the dog had welcomed her with exuberant joy. Above all, they had proved non-judgmental and accepted her willingly.
The stew was delicious; there was certainly plenty of it, a fact that puzzled Penelope a great deal. She could not quite understand why a widow, living on her own, would make a huge copper pot full of lamb stew. Rosie was too affluent for a humble farmer. There was something afoot in this house, but she could not put her finger on it.
She complimented her hostess. ‘Mrs Haldane, this stew is perfectly delicious, but you have made enough to feed the five thousand.’ Rosie merely smiled. ‘Call me Rosie; after all, we are all friends here. I always have a pan of something on the go. I sell it, Lady Penelope. A widow has to make a living somehow.’ Penelope looked around her. Mrs Haldane certainly made a living, but she did not do it by selling stew. Rosie seemed to sense her direction of thought and offered an explanation. ‘Oh, I have my finger in many pies. I breed and sell chickens. Old Buttercup the cow supplies me with an abundance of
milk, which I sell or barter and I take in sewing and alterations. I get by comfortably enough.’
‘You certainly do,’ Penelope replied, smiling. ‘I have managed to escape with a little money so you must let me give you a little something for my keep.’ Rosie gave a wave of her hand. ‘Oh, there is no need for that, but if you are here for any length of time you may be able to help out a little. I know you are a Lady and probably not used to farm life and all, but some assistance will come in useful. I have Andy, who comes by and helps me out a lot, but there is always something to do.’
Penelope smiled. ‘Rosie, I am not frightened to get my hands dirty. I shall be happy to assist where I can, but you will have to let me give you a little something on account.’
The small party spent the rest of the evening playing card games and before they knew it, it was ten o’clock. Rosie stood up, stretched and suggested one final cup of tea before they retired for bed. Penelope sipped at her tea and wrinkled her nose for it tasted a little bitter, but for being polite, she drank it. At a quarter past ten and feeling very sleepy, she excused herself and went to bed, quite oblivious of the fact that she had just been slipped a hefty dose of laudanum.
Nathanial looked suspicious and gave Rosie a condemnatory look. ‘Really Rosie, was that necessary? I told you Lady Winterbourne would have been sympathetic. Why, half the Aristocracy has illicit brandy in their cellars, her deceased husband the 7th Earl of Rosslyn was one of them. I have known her most of her life and she would no more report you to the excise men, than cut off her right arm.’
Rosie was unrepentant. ‘I could not risk it Nathanial. We play a dangerous game. Why do you think I wanted Hannah out of it and sent her into service as soon as the opportunity arose? Being caught could result in transportation and heavy fines. No Nat, it is better this way and it is for her own protection as well. She will just sleep and wake up with a slight headache in the morning.’
Lady Winterbourne's Entanglement: A Romantic Regency Adventure Page 3