Penelope

by Anya Wylde

  “Well, two more after that. He didn’t say he liked them.”

  He smiled, “But he did not say he didn’t either.”

  Penelope bit into the burnt toast.

  “Let me see now. You are in love with the duke. He wants to marry you but only because Lady Plasket saw you together. You love him too much to have him marry someone he does not love. He considers you … ah yes, a nuisance, a pest and whatnot. You would rather go back to that ghastly stepmother of yours than live a life of luxury as a duchess. It is all clear now.”

  Penelope scowled.

  “I had agreed to stay with Madame, not Lord Adair. People talk,” Penelope said irritably.

  “I live with ghosts and they don’t talk. Why not stay for a few days? Think things over and then …”

  “No,” Penelope said firmly. “I want to leave.”

  “This place is suitably morose. No one comes here, and you will not find a single house in London more entrenched in secrets or dust. Cry for some time, sneeze a little longer and within a few days …”

  “No.”

  “Very well, I will have the carriage ready for you tomorrow morning if you still want to go.”

  “Thank you.”

  ***

  It was seven in the morning and Penelope sat on the steps of the grand staircase of Lockwood, her head resting against the bannister.

  “I am a spy,” Lord Adair announced looking up at her. “And if you want the details, then follow me to the breakfast room.”

  She jumped up and raced after him.

  Once in the breakfast room, he pointed at the rubbery eggs and burnt toast.

  “Drink your chocolate and eat some breakfast. Then you will learn the truth.”

  Penelope eyed him sceptically. “Why would you tell me such a thing? Are you bamming me just to get me to eat?”

  “I am not, and until you drink your chocolate, you won’t hear another peep from me.”

  “This is chocolate?” she asked, swirling the muddy drink around.

  “So I am told.”

  She took a sip, made a wry face, and drank the contents in a few big gulps.

  He nodded approvingly and said, “Good girl. You deserve the truth for drinking that swill. Go on, start on the eggs.”

  Penelope shoved a spoonful in her mouth.

  Watching her chew, he said, “In short, I was working on behalf of the king. I had been asked to uncover an assassination plot sponsored by the French.”

  Bits of egg sprayed out her mouth as she gasped.

  “You are bamming me,” she said, her eyes wide.

  “I am not. I am telling you the truth.”

  She searched his face for a moment and then asked sceptically, “So that is why you had disguised yourself as Madame?”

  He nodded.

  “But why choose to be a modiste? And how did you manage it? Aren’t spies shady little whiskered characters that slink through shrubberies?”

  He lifted up a hand halting her babbling tongue. A hint of a smile played on his lips. “Slow down, I will answer every one of your questions. To begin with, a few years ago the king informed me of the plot. He had received information that most of his informants were being watched. Therefore, he chose to put his trust in me and asked me for my help.”

  “But why a modiste?” she interrupted.

  “Because men are fools,” he said passionately. “They think that women have a head full of cotton and pink ribbons. They talk to their wives or mistresses in the small hours of the morning, the smoke sluggishly escaping their lips along with their darkest secrets. And in turn, women hold those secrets close to their hearts until the most opportune moment arrives. I could have bribed the women and discovered the secrets, but it could have alerted the French. I needed the aristocratic women to trust me. And a weakness that most of the ladies in the ton share is vanity.”

  Penelope made agreeing noises.

  “And that vanity leads a lady to acquire only the most trustworthy modiste in town. A modiste knows a woman’s most embarrassing secrets. When a lady needs a wig for her balding head, who does she go to? A modiste! A modiste sees the sagging flesh, the warts, the moles, the freckles, the spots, and every single unsightly thing about a woman because it is the modiste that dresses a lady. Jewels will not lure a secret out, but the public knowledge that a lady wears a wig will do the trick quickly enough. And so a modiste becomes a lady’s bosom friend.”

  “But why only a lady? It could have been a common maid at the palace planning to murder the king.”

  “I am telling the story,” he said testily. “As for the answer, we knew it was an aristocratic lord who had gone over to the French side. I needed a persona that would have the finest ladies of the ton clamouring for my attention. I hired a French modiste and paid her a pretty penny to teach me everything she knew. Thereafter, Lord Adair turned recluse and Madame Bellafraunde was born.”

  “Why are you telling me all of this? Will it not hinder your investigations? Let me tell you, I don’t do well under torture. I will squeak at the first sign of pain.”

  “Two reasons. Firstly, you needed a distraction. You cannot keep thinking of the duke. Secondly, I uncovered the plot a month ago. You are my last student. I was waiting to finish the lessons before retiring Madame for good. The king is going to publicly honour me and reward me for my bravery. The whole of England will know what I did soon enough. You simply know the facts before they do.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Penelope said, belching delicately. “And I think after that breakfast I am suffering from collywobbles.”

  “If it was believable, then I wouldn’t be very good at spying,” he replied, pouring a cup of tea. “I will ask Jules to fetch you some laudanum. It will help.”

  Jules entered at that moment to tell them that the carriage was ready.

  But Penelope did not depart that day. The generous dose of Laudanum, along with Lord Adair’s insistence, convinced her to wade in self-pity for a few more days. According to him, the utter heart-wrenching misery of unrequited love should be enjoyed for as long as possible, and Lockwood was the right place to do it.

  She sensibly agreed.

  ***

  On the third day, Penelope could no longer impose on Lord Adair. Accordingly, she requested for a carriage and Lord Adair provided her with one.

  “Thank you for everything,” Penelope said. She was still uncomfortable in the presence of the handsome marquis, Lord Adair. Oddly, she felt closer to Madame Bellafraunde, even though the two were one and the same.

  “I am glad that you agreed to stay with me for a few days. Even though you moped all over the place, it was still a delight having you around.”

  Penelope nodded distractedly, her hands gripping the travel bag. Lord Adair had provided her with a few more dresses. He promised to bill the duke.

  “Your lessons are over, and you are almost a lady,” Lord Adair said, uncharacteristically sombre. “I couldn’t take away the Penelope in you. I adore it too much …”

  She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering in the morning sun.

  “Well this is goodbye, love,” he said, bending to kiss her forehead.

  She dropped the bag and hugged him.

  “I will miss you,” she whispered.

  Lord Adair stood for a long time waving at the carriage and thinking about the last few years that he had spent embroiled in a complicated espionage trying to save the king. And here was Penelope thinking her world had come to an end because the duke thought she was an imbecile. Ah, the trials and tribulations of young love, he mused, shaking his head indulgently as the carriage disappeared from view.

  Chapter 36

  The shutters of the carriage were open. The duke wasn’t here to tell her to close them, Penelope thought, rebelliously pulling aside the blood red curtains and poking her head out of the window.

  The wind played with her hair while she watched London speeding by. She did not see the filth, dirt, or dangerous alleys. Wha
t she saw were the vivid colours of parasols, the bustling workers and the smiling, soot faced imps. She felt as if she was leaving behind the sparkle, excitement, and secrets of a chaotic city and entering into the watery grey world of the countryside.

  She sighed and softly whispered a goodbye. A moment later a passing wagon dipped in a pothole and splashed her face with dirty water.

  She spluttered and hurriedly closed the curtains. It was London’s way of replying to her farewell, she thought, her lips quirking. Anne would have laughed had she seen her. Her eyes closed, her heart clenching in pain. She missed the dowager and Anne, Perkins, Mary … but mostly she missed Lady Bathsheba and the duke.

  They must be worried. She had left without informing a soul, and thereafter she had refused to send word through Lord Adair. She was afraid that the duke would find her and ask her to marry him again, and she didn’t have the nerve to refuse him.

  She would disappear into the Finnshire forest, and in a few years he would move on and forget about her. He would marry someone he loved. She was doing this for the duke. If he married her, then he would end up hating her. She could bear his indifference and his arrogance but not his hatred.

  Her shoulders slumped. She missed them all dreadfully. Oh, to have Madame scold her one last time, to dress up for a carefree night in a ballroom, one last snuggle from Lady Bathsheba …

  The carriage halted and shouts pulled her out of her gloom. She glanced out of the window. They were in the middle of an isolated country road.

  She was too miserable to be curious. She sat waiting for someone to come and tell her what was going on.

  The door sprang open and a masked man wearing a red silk cloak, green velvet breeches, and a pearl brooch entered the carriage.

  “Jimmy,” Penelope said bleakly, not at all surprised to find him here.

  Jimmy pulled off his feathery black mask and leaned back on the carriage seat.

  “What has the duke done?”

  “How do you know it concerns the duke?” Penelope asked.

  “When you thought the duke was being robbed, you were willing to take the bullet for him.”

  Penelope nodded, “Yes, I was a little obvious.”

  “Is he refusing to marry you? I can kidnap him and force him at gunpoint.”

  “No, he wants to marry me. I don’t want to marry him.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Because he does not love me! How can I marry him and see him fall in love with someone else? It is bound to happen. Or watch him keep mistresses … He thinks I am not good enough. I constantly make mistakes. I am not a refined London lady. I would make a horrible duchess. I would embarrass him. I could go on …”

  “No, I understand, and I agree. You would make a terrible duchess. That is not a bad thing. I don’t like duchesses. Haughty lot,” Jimmy said soothingly.

  “Well, that’s that.”

  “Hmm … how do you know that he does not love you?”

  Penelope rolled her eyes, “I asked him why he wanted to marry me. Twice. He said it was because of Lady Plasket. And women know these things. You wouldn’t understand. We are intuitive in such matters.”

  “Perhaps your intuition has become a tad muddled? He could have had me arrested. He didn’t, only because I mean something to you, even after I had pulled the gun on him.”

  “You should go into hiding. He was distracted. His sister was on her way to Gretna Green with a despicable man. He will recall your existence soon enough.”

  “He told me that he will not arrest me. In fact, he offered me a job on his estate. I respectfully declined. A manager on his estate with a generous wage is too restrictive for a creative man like me.”

  “Did he say he was letting you go because you meant something to me … What’s that?” Penelope asked, tilting her head to the side.

  “What?”

  “That. It sounds like … No, it can’t be … Is it?”

  Jimmy sighed, and rapped the carriage walls. One of his assistances arrived at the door wearing a mask and a cape.

  “Sorry, the baaing alerted her,” Jimmy turned to Penelope. “My new student … err … recently contracted. I think you know him. Shall we call him Chick Chudderly for the moment? Chick because he is a novice Falcon and Chudderly because I feel like it.”

  The novice Falcon, dressed in red velvet trousers a size too small and a black satin cape, glared at Jimmy.

  “I am going, I am going. Penny, if you need to be saved, just screech,” Jimmy said grinning. He lifted his top hat with a flourish and waving it in the air exited the carriage.

  Chick Chudderly turned towards Penelope and offered her a hesitant smile.

  “You look ridiculous,” Penelope whispered, her heart thundering.

  He reached over and pinched her bottom.

  “Ouch, what was that for?”

  “To prove to you that I am really here.”

  “You always read my mind, your grace.”

  The duke pulled off the mask and smiled ruefully, “If I had been able to read your mind, then we would have been married by now.”

  “I won’t marry you.”

  “And if I promise to dress up as a baby falcon on our wedding day?”

  “Your grace, please,” she whispered miserably.

  He made a frustrated sound. “I am sorry. I am going about this all wrong, and I had it all planned. Let me start again,” he said taking her hand and pulling her up.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked, trying to extricate her hand.

  He didn’t reply, and he did not let go. When they were outside in the bright late morning sunshine, he turned to her to say, “This sort of thing should be done properly.”

  “What sort of thing?” she asked, avoiding his eyes. Instead, she looked around at the fifteen burglars, thieves and deer stealers of all shapes and sizes standing around them in a semi-circle. Jimmy stood at the centre leaning against a tree, his arms around a round, plump woman, who no doubt was his apple dumpling. In the other hand he held Lady Bathsheba’s leash. Penelope’s heart skipped at the sight of her beloved pet all dressed up for some grand occasion. She was wearing a yellow flowery bonnet on her head, and a pink ribbon was tied to her tail. She bleated at the sight of Penelope

  “Your grace,” Penelope said, trying to wrench her hand free to race to the goat.

  “Hush, you can kiss your goat in a few moments, I promise. I have taken lessons from Madame and—”

  “When?” she interrupted stunned.

  “The day I discovered that Madame was sheltering you. I was at Lockwood for two hours. She refused to let me see you.”

  “What sort of lessons?”

  “This sort of thing has to be done right. It needs an audience.”

  “What sort of thing? What needs an audience? What lessons? Your grace!”

  “This,” he said, kneeling down on the ground.

  Only the wind rustling through the leaves could now be heard. Penelope’s hand trembled in his grip.

  “I don’t know when it happened,” he began softly. “You were holding my ear in a painful grip the first time I met you. I don’t think it happened then. Nor when you tumbled down the stairs, became pickled at dinner, tugged my underthing from the goat’s mouth at midnight in my bedroom … Where was I? Oh, it didn’t happen any of those times. Not even when you went chasing ruffians down Mayfair Street, ripped the gown off a lady in a ball, had a cheetah chasing us out of a dinner party—”

  “I wish I had been there,” Jimmy commented impressed. “And you are not doing a very good job, Chudderly, reminding her of her misadventures. Bob and flap, my man, bob and flap,” he added, smiling down at his wife.

  Penelope and fourteen other robbers shushed him.

  “Go on,” Penelope said breathlessly turning to the duke.

  The duke glared at Jimmy and then caught sight of Penelope’s face. He softened and continued, “It could have been the kiss. But you are a terrible kisser. Untutored, raw… Pe
rhaps it was that, or maybe it was when you made me laugh … or when we kissed again … that was glorious. You learn quickly …”

  “Your grace, I don’t understand. When what happened?”

  “You won the hearts of highwaymen, my mother, my sister, Perkins, Hopkins and the entire household staff. I have never had so many people glaring at me before. The maids that had once quaked in terror in front of me now eye me reproachfully, for they believe that I sent you away.” He tightened his grip on her hand, “When you have won so many hearts, how could you think that you had not won mine as well? And all this time I have spent wondering when it happened. When did I fall in love with you and … honestly, I don’t know.”

  Penelope and the robbers sighed in unison.

  “But why didn’t you tell me? I asked you and you said Lady Plasket ….”

  “People in love are gooses. They fail to see what is right under their nose. They cannot believe that they are worthy of the one they love. You were filled with self-doubt and so was I. I had treated you so badly that I did not think you could love me. I knew you were attracted to me, but attraction does not equal love. I tried to give you a practical answer hoping that time would turn that attraction into love.”

  “Hear, hear,” Jimmy cheered weakly, dabbing his eyes.

  “And why take Jimmy’s help?” Penelope asked, frowning at the interrupting highwayman.

  “I begged Jimmy to ask you why you had left and he agreed. I was outside listening to everything you had to say. When Jimmy said you were willing to take the bullet for me, I smacked my head. I was such a fool. How could I have overlooked such an important fact? You love me and my blasted knee is killing me, so hurry up and tell me if you will marry me?” he finished softly.

  “You are certain that this time it is love?” she asked. She wanted to believe him with all her heart, but the niggling doubt at the back of her mind refused to go away.

  He sighed and stood up, “Remember Madame had told me that the thought of losing my love would make me tremble in dread? Penelope, I trembled when you were missing. I was out of my mind with worry. I had half of the Bow Street Runners searching for you. I was a terrible sight to behold. I drank myself into oblivion that night. I scared poor Theodore into hiding. Perkins gave me my breakfast in bed and I absently made the tea in a sugar pot and drank it. The next day I finally tracked Madame down and she confessed that she had you safe at Lockwood. She refused to tell me why you had left, but she did give me lessons on how to woo you back.”