Penelope

by Anya Wylde

  “Forgive me,” Penelope proclaimed dramatically.

  “Penny, you can’t do that here … not at Kitty May’s ball. Someone will see you. Stand up.”

  “Not until you promise to forgive and forget.”

  “I should be apologising. Penny, please behave … eeek, let go of my foot!”

  “You apologised so many times, and I took too long to forgive. No, that’s not right. I forgave you that very day, but I was mortified that you thought that I was … I mean, your brother …”

  “I understand. I guessed as much. But nothing has changed. You should have told me how you felt. I would not have thought less of you. I don’t know how you can be in love with my boring, arrogant … Never mind. If you do not want to talk about it, then we won’t. Now, for the love of all that is holy, get up. I can see someone coming.”

  Penelope stood up and patted the dust off her skirts.

  “Penny, how could you behave like a total idiot?” Anne giggled.

  “I have no pride when it comes to winning back people I love.”

  Anne smiled, “I love you too, Penny.”

  “Then tell me all about Lord Poyning and your little romance.”

  “You love my brother more than you love me,” and that was the only reply Anne was willing to give on the subject.

  Chapter 32

  “The Baronet of Hampshire has decided to marry the milkmaid,” Anne announced, scanning the latest newspaper.

  “How do you know? It does not spell out the name,” the dowager asked.

  “Who else has sixteen Newfoundland dogs, three Persian cats and thirty six horses?” Anne sniffed.

  “You are confident that the baronet has that many animals?”

  “When have I been wrong? My sources are excellent,” Anne replied.

  “Your source is Becky, your lady’s maid,” the dowager said blandly.

  “This time it is not,” Anne said triumphantly.

  Penelope stopped admiring the duke’s handsome head. She swivelled to inspect Anne, who had sounded a little too cheerful for this time of the morning. She said thoughtfully, “Anne, pass me the butter and the jam. And the teapot, thank you … Oh, the salt, pepper, and the toast as well.”

  Penelope knew something was wrong. Anne should have been annoyed by her demands. After all, the teapot had been lying next to Penelope, and Anne had to get up from her chair and come around to her side to pour Penelope a cup.

  “How is your knee, Perkins?” Penelope asked the butler absently. Her eyes were focused on Anne’s flushed face.

  “The knee is having a good day, Miss. Thank you for the ointment,” Perkins mumbled, glancing at the guests. Madame and Kitty May had joined them for a late breakfast. They were to go shopping with the dowager after the meal.

  “How is your wife?” Penelope continued, unaware that Anne and the dowager were shooting her quelling looks.

  “Living,” Perkins said, backing away.

  “Oh, tell Lilly downstairs to come up and see me. I have a wonderful solution for her troubles with her mother-in-law …”

  Perkins started sweating. The glass in his hand shook.

  “Penelope,” Anne whispered loudly.

  “Lilly is?” Kitty May enquired.

  “The scullery—” Penelope started to say when the dowager interrupted her and launched into an animated discussion of the statues recently procured by the British museum.

  Madame spoke softly in Penelope’s ear, “I am happy to say that I have not completely changed you. But, my dear, one does not acknowledge the presence of servants, especially when there are guests around.”

  “I forgot,” Penelope exclaimed, her eyes automatically leaping to the duke. He was smiling at her. Confused, she poked a boiled egg.

  “Would you girls like to join us? We are going to Bond Street. A lovely new Parisian style shop has opened up. They have darling ribbons,” Kitty May said.

  For Kitty May everything was darling.

  “I have a bit of a headache,” Anne demurred.

  Since when had the fox turned into a docile lamb, Penelope wondered, eyeing Anne with increasing suspicion. Anne saying no to darling ribbons and a new shop … Perhaps she did have a headache. No, the girl was looking too pink and bright for a headache.

  “Would you like me to call Dr Johnson?” the duke asked, concern clear in his tone.

  Penelope rolled her eyes. The duke was truly dim to Anne’s wiles at times.

  “No, I think I will rest this morning,” Anne said, her hand rising to her forehead dramatically.

  She was overdoing it and no one was catching on, Penelope thought irritably.

  “I am calling the doctor,” the duke said, standing up and leaving his breakfast midway.

  “As you wish,” Anne said faintly.

  Penelope sat fuming. The duke worked all day. How dare Anne force him to leave the breakfast table without finishing his meal.

  It was noon by the time the dowager departed with Kitty May.

  Madame had excused her from lessons and Penelope raced up to Anne’s room.

  “Anne,” Penelope said, striding into the room.

  Anne leaped up, her foot pushing something under the bed. Her hair had escaped the pins, her face was flushed, and her expression guilty. But Penelope’s attention was caught at the sight of the dirt on Anne’s skirt. It was remarkable, for Anne disliked dirt as much as she abhorred rabbits. She was bitten by one at a fair as a child … by a rabbit, not the dirt.

  “What are you up to? How dare you lie to the duke and worry him so?”

  Anne stood staring at Penelope meekly.

  “Anne?”

  “Nothing, I was cleaning?”

  “And I am a teapot,” Penelope retorted.

  “If you insist,” Anne said shrugging.

  “Annie! Out with it.”

  “Nothing, truly.”

  “I don’t believe you. I know you are afraid that my loyalties lie with your brother, but you are wrong. You are holding my feelings against me.”

  “If he asked, would you not tell him?”

  “I …It would depend,” Penelope said, honestly.

  “Then I can’t tell you.”

  “If I promise not to tell him?”

  “He will trick you into admitting it. You can’t hide your feelings. He will guess,” Anne said, crossing her arms.

  “Are you doing something awful?” Penelope asked in a small voice.

  “No, it is wonderful,” Anne said happily.

  Penelope was now truly alarmed.

  “Please? A teeny tiny hint? A hint as big as an ant?”

  “No.”

  “A hint as big as that spot on your forehead?”

  “You are not supposed to mention that.”

  “Fine, I won’t ask you, but I will look,” Penelope said, diving across the floor and sticking her head under the bed.

  Anne caught Penelope’s collar and yanked her back. They wrestled on the floor for a few minutes until Penelope gave up and played dead.

  She had a good idea of what Anne was up to. If she was right, then all hell would break loose with the duke leading the demons army.

  Penelope pretended that she not seen a thing. She pleaded with Anne a little more and then called a truce. She decided to leave her alone for the moment, but she would keep an eye on her for the rest of the day.

  ***

  Penelope needed a quiet place to think. She decided to go the library for a little while. Thereafter, she would have to attach herself to Anne for the rest of the day and possibly all night.

  She walked into the library and found the duke reading near the window.

  “I am sorry, I did not mean to disturb you,” Penelope said, backing away.

  “Whether you disturbed me or not is debatable.”

  Penelope scowled. She was not in a mood to decipher the duke’s cryptic remarks

  “Now that you are here I would like to ask you a question,” the duke continued, closing the b
ook and setting it aside.

  Penelope nodded for him to go ahead.

  “What is my rotten sister up to?”

  Penelope’s mouth dropped open. She should have known that nothing could escape his notice.

  “I am not sure,” she replied.

  “But you have an idea,” he said shrewdly.

  “Yes.”

  “Then share it with me.”

  “No.”

  “Penelope …”

  “Your threats don’t work on me, your grace.”

  “I have noticed,” he said, coming up to stand in front of her.

  Penelope took a few steps back.

  “I am not that frightening,” he said frowning at her feet.

  “I did not say you were.”

  “Then why do you always move … oh!” he said, a wicked smile lighting up his eyes.

  “Oh what?” Penelope asked worriedly.

  “Nothing.”

  “Can you never explain yourself?” Penelope demanded.

  “You need to be smart enough to read between the lines, my dear.”

  Irritated, Penelope stuck her tongue out childishly.

  In one stride he closed the gap between them and swiftly bent his head to catch the tip of her tongue with his lips. He sucked just once and then stepped back, his eyes assessing her reaction.

  Her eyes were glazed, and it was a few minutes before she managed to stick her tongue back in.

  Satisfied, he went back to his seat and picked up the book. “Inform me as soon as you are sure.”

  “Huh?”

  “About Annie.”

  “Yes… yes, I ….” Penelope did not bother completing her sentence. The duke was already engrossed in the book. The blasted, infuriating, heartbreakingly handsome man, Penelope moaned in utter despair.

  ***

  Anne had behaved like an angel the entire day. The dowager said that the last time Anne had been so good was the day she fell off a horse and knocked herself unconscious.

  The feverish excitement, lack of appetite, dreamy eyes, and a silent Anne equalled only one thing. Anne was planning to elope with Lord Poyning. And Penelope would have to do something about it, since no one else was aware of the overflowing travelling case that was currently squashed under Anne’s bed.

  Chapter 33

  Penelope screwed her eyes shut and rolled her shoulders. She then jumped around the room a couple of times. It was no use. She still felt like a stretched violin string.

  The fact that Anne could be planning to elope had troubled her all day and was still troubling her now at midnight. Her mind buzzed with a thousand flickering thoughts keeping sleep at bay. She wished she had an advisor, someone who could give her support and share some of the burden, someone who could lift the hefty weight from her small, slim shoulders.

  Her eyes fell on Lady Bathsheba, who was stretched out on the bed looking at her lazily through one open eye. Penelope’s face brightened. How could she have forgotten her beloved companion?

  “Lady Bathsheba, we have grown up, have we not? Back in Finnshire, all we had to worry about was ghastly Gertrude’s hooked nose appearing around the corner. Now we have so many troubles. The season is coming to an end, and I am still unwed with no prospects. I have fallen in love with the unattainable duke, who may not think I am doxie any longer, but still considers me an imbecile. Anne may be planning to run away with Lord Poyning, and I am the only who is aware of that fact.”

  She stopped to scrutinise the goat’s expression.

  “I know what you are thinking. Why don’t I tell the duke or the dowager about my suspicion? Well I can’t. At least not until I am certain. It would worry the dowager. The duke already thinks I am loony, and if I turn out to be wrong, then he will be convinced that I am an idiot as well. I can’t have the man I love thinking that I am an idiot, now can I, Lady Bathsheba? Besides, tomorrow I will spend the day spying on Anne. She will have to stay in touch with Lord Poyning to plan the elopement. I will steal all the correspondence, and as soon as I get proof, I will take it to the duke …”

  Lady Bathsheba snorted.

  “You don’t think it will work? Trust me, it will work. It has to work. The only way it won’t work is if Anne has already corresponded with Lord Poyning and is planning to run away tonight …”

  Lady Bathsheba nodded approvingly.

  Penelope perched on the edge of the bed, her foot tapping furiously.

  “You don’t mean to say … she is running away tonight? Can she do such a thing? But that’s not fair! She can’t be eloping tonight. She can’t. But if she is, then …”

  Penelope leaped up and started pacing again. The clock chimed twelve.

  “I have been a fool, Lady Bathsheba. I thought I had a few days to plan, but what if I don’t? What if it is tonight?”

  Lady Bathsheba chewed on a piece of wool.

  Penelope worriedly blew at an escaped curl that kept tickling her nose.

  “It is late. Everyone is asleep. I will have to stay awake and keep watch. Hopefully Anne will stay put and I can divulge all to the duke in the morning. I can’t keep this a secret any longer. I won’t be selfish. If he thinks I am idiot for imagining such a thing, then so be it. I love Anne too.”

  She went and sat on a chair. The only sound to be heard was the grandfather clock ticking away somewhere. A moment later, she yawned, and then frowned. What if she nodded off? She glanced at Lady Bathsheba, who was fast asleep on a ball of green wool … She smiled. She had a plan.

  Taking out the knitting bag from the cupboard, she sorted through the wool. She picked up a midnight blue ball of yarn and inspected it. It would do.

  She tiptoed out into the hallway and searched the wall directly opposite her room door.

  “I am sorry,” she whispered to a giant bust of one of duke’s ancestors before tying the wool around his neck and tightening it like a noose.

  She unravelled the rest of the yarn and made her way back to her room. She pulled the thread taught and tied the other end to her wrist. The trap was laid and Penelope dozed on the bed waiting for the bait to catch.

  An hour later the bait was caught. The wool yanked her arm and she sprang to sitting position, her eyes dazed. It took her a moment to gather her wits. ‘Anne’ her sludgy brain whispered.

  It wasn’t. It was Lady Bathsheba waking up for a midnight adventure. Penelope readjusted the wool and fell asleep.

  After dozing for a while, she felt another yank on her arm, and this time the bait was really caught. Blinking away the sleep from her eyes, she carefully freed her legs from underneath the snoring goat and stood up. The candle had gone out, so floundering in the dark and bumping into various objects, she made her way to the door and opened it.

  The lamp in the hallway illuminated Anne’s skirts disappearing down the hallway.

  Penelope eyes turned round in horror. In a trice she was running after Anne whispering admonishments.

  Anne threw an apologetic look back at Penelope just before wrenching the front door open and disappearing into the dark.

  Penelope chased her out onto the garden path, but Anne was already in a carriage and driving away. The pebbles bit into Penelope’s bare feet, and the cold night air slithered under her night dress chilling her instantly. Frustrated, Penelope shouted a few unseemly words at the departing carriage.

  She hobbled back indoors and made her way to the duke’s room.

  “Wake up, your grace.”

  “Your grace! Charles Cornelius Radclyff, if you do not wake up right now, then the world will end,” Penelope wailed.

  The duke opened a single eye.

  “Ack!” he exclaimed, half sitting up in bed and clutching the sheets defensively to his chest.

  “Your grace …”

  “Good lord, Penelope? Is that you? What are you doing here … at this hour?”

  “I am not here to seduce you …”

  “I should hope not. Your hair frightened the life out of me. I thought I was ha
ving a nightmare. Do you look so unfortunate every morning?”

  “Your grace, Anne has eloped.”

  The duke sprang up and Penelope quickly closed her eyes. He was not wearing a single stitch of clothing.

  “Tell me everything,” the duke ordered, rapidly pulling on breeches.

  Keeping her face averted, she said, “I suspected that she may be planning something of the sort. I tied a string to a bust in the hallway and attached the other end to my wrist. She tripped over the string, alerting me. I raced after her, but she had a carriage waiting and she was away before I could stop her.”

  “Pull that rope by my bed. It will ring in Hopkins’ room.”

  She did as he asked and finally felt brave enough to look at him.

  He was furiously scribbling something on a sheet lying on his desk.

  “How soon can we leave?” she asked.

  “You are not coming.”

  “But Anne may not listen to you. I may be able to help. She will need a woman around …”

  “I can’t waste time waiting for you to get dressed.”

  “I will only be a moment.”

  “You have two and a half minutes,” he said, knowing full well that it was impossible for her to dress so quickly.

  He strode out of the room, pausing long enough to ask a sleepy Hopkins to get the carriage ready.

  “Wait, I am coming,” Penelope called.

  The duke turned angrily, “I told you I don’t have time …” his words died away.

  Penelope was shuffling towards him. She had pulled off the giant quilt from his bed and wrapped it around herself. The ends of the vibrant purple quilt were sweeping the floor. Her small head poked out, and her hair was still a mess. The curls sprang out as if terrified of her scalp and waved in all sorts of directions.

  “Why are you waddling?” the duke asked, blinking at the odd vision.

  Her foot poked out to show him his woollen slippers.

  “You won’t be able to walk in those. They are too large for you. I don’t have time to waste …”

  Before he had finished speaking, she was clutching the end of the quilt and his giant grey slippers to her chest.

  “I can walk faster barefooted. I will put them on once I am in the carriage,” she pleaded, looking ridiculously tiny engulfed in yards of cloth.