Penelope (22 page)

Penelope
blinked.

The pianist
crashed his hands down on the instrument.

The dance was
now over.

***

“You look a
little red. Did Charles upset you?” Anne whispered to Penelope as
soon as she joined them.

“He has
promoted me from a fruit fly to a blood sucking mosquito. So to
answer your question— yes, the ostrich feathers adorning my hair
are a little ruffled.”

Anne giggled
and Penelope scowled.

“Any luck?”
Penelope asked, taking the lemonade cup from Anne.

“He hasn’t
asked me to dance,” Anne replied, her face falling.

“He will. Just
leave it to me,” Penelope said in her ear. She then turned her
attention to Lord Anthony Rivers.

“Do you dance
Lord Rivers?”

“Rarely”

“I do,” Lord
Poyning piped up.

“Anne loves
dancing,” Penelope hinted.

“Do you?” Lord
Poyning countered.

“I do, but I
can never be as graceful as Anne,” Penelope replied irritably.

“Let me be the
judge of that. May I have the next dance, Miss Fairweather?” Lord
Poyning asked.

Penelope took a
long sip before replying, “I am a little tired after my dance with
the duke. I would rather watch you dance for the moment. Perhaps
the next?”

“Women are so
delicate,” Lord Poyning said, his eyes running over Penelope’s
figure.

Penelope
squirmed under the gaze, her face turning hot. She felt a little
disturbed by the look in Lord Poyning’s eyes and she itched to get
away.

“Charles is
leading Lydia to the dance floor,” Anne announced.

Penelope
whipped her head around to look at the couple. She watched the duke
lead Lady Snowly around the floor. Lady Snowly was smiling, her
teeth shinning white in the candlelight.

When Penelope
turned back, it was to find Lord Poyning finally asking Anne to
dance. Pleased, she smiled at Lord Rivers.

“Would you?”
Lord Rivers asked unhappily.

Penelope
stopped him short, “No, I am happy to watch for the moment.”

“Good, good,”
he said looking relieved.

She smiled
again widely. This was it— time to put her plan into action.

“Have you known
Anne long?” she asked, fluttering her lashes

“Yes. Did you
get something in your eye?”

Penelope
stilled her lids.

“I think it was
dust. I am fine now. Would you like to take a turn around the
room?”

“No, it is too
crowded.”

Deuced man,
Penelope thought getting annoyed. She tried again, “Lord Rivers, I
would like to speak plainly. I come from a small village and I
cannot flirt and hint at things. I am aware that we barely know
each other, but your friendship with Lord Poyning and mine with
Anne compels me to ask you for your help. You and only you can help
me in this noble endeavour. Yes, Lord Rivers, you and me can bring
happiness to our cherished friends.”

Penelope was
pleased at how easily the words had flown from her. The shy and
quiet man facing her was comforting. It was hard to be nervous
around someone who looked even more out of place in a ballroom than
she did.

“How?” he
asked. His eyes were suddenly awake and he was looking at her for
the first time with unglazed eyes.

Penelope
faltered at the intense expression on his face. She realised that
she had made a mistake in thinking that this man could be easily
led. The slight interest she had ignited in him transformed his
features. His eyes were intelligent; the subtle change in
expression marking him as an almost handsome man. She glanced
towards the dancing couples trying to buy time. She watched the
duke pull his fiancée closer.

She wrenched
her gaze away from the scene and said, “Lord Poyning is your friend
and Anne is mine. I think the two should marry and you are in the
best position to help bring them together.”

Lord River’s
expression turned cold, “I apologise, but I don’t think the two
would make a good match. I don’t think Lord Poyning is interested
in Lady Radclyff, and you are wasting your time on such a fruitless
venture.”

“How can you be
sure? Has he said so to you?”

“No, but he did
not need to spell it out. I know him well.”

“Lord Rivers, I
understand your hesitation but what harm can there be in at least
trying?”

“No.”

“No? Just no?
You don’t think ….”

“Miss
Fairweather, please don’t involve me in this. I am a good deal
older than you and I know how ugly things can become if you meddle
in matters of love, especially when it concerns people close to
you. I suggest you let Lady Radclyff handle her own affairs.”

Penelope was
not offended. Lord Rivers’ tone had been kind and his words well
meaning. She was a little irritated though. She had been so
optimistic that tonight Anne and Poyning’s love story would have a
happy ending. She had hoped that secretly Poyning loved Anne just
like Anne loved Poyning. Lord Rivers was meant to confess that fact
or at least help bring the two together. Nothing of the sort had
happened. The first part of the plan had completely flopped. She
sulked in silence until Anne returned from her dance with Lord
Poyning.

The rest of the
evening went well. Penelope did not utter a single word out of
turn. She had drunk sixteen cups of lemonade, spent most of the
night in the lady’s powder room, and danced five times with
different partners. No man had caught her fancy and only one
wealthy man had shown any genuine interest in her. Unfortunately,
he was as old as Sir Henry.

Back in the
duke’s carriage, a gloomy Penelope sat bouncing her way back to the
Blackthorne Mansion. Anne’s love pickle was turning out to be
harder than she had originally thought. She spent the entire ride
tugging at her uncomfortably tight gloves and planning the next
step on how to bring the two love birds together.

The moment she
entered Blackthorne Mansion, the dowager caught her arm.

“Penelope,” she
said, “three Grande dames came up to me tonight. They had something
to say about your conduct tonight.”

Penelope turned
white. How could she have forgotten? Today had been a test and if
she had failed it, then tomorrow morning she would be on her way
back to Finnshire. She had spent the entire night plotting to bring
Anne and Lord Poyning together, but if she was no longer in London,
then how was she meant to help them?

Anne, Madame,
the dowager and even Lady Bathsheba were counting on her. She
doubted her new employers would allow her to bring along a goat.
Her own dreams of marrying and having a home would be shattered.
She remembered her tipsy state earlier that evening. In a moment
from now she would become a haggard, defeated lonely spinster. With
the dowager’s next words, she knew that she was about to lose
everything.

“Mother?” Anne
prompted, gripping Penelope’s hand.

“They
congratulated me on sponsoring such a promising young lady. My
dear, henceforth, you are no long a social hazard.”

“I didn’t make
a mistake?” Penelope asked stunned.

“No, you
didn’t,” the dowager replied smiling.

“Penelope
didn’t make a mistake?” Anne echoed in disbelief. She gripped
Penelope’s shoulders and slightly shook her out of her daze.
“Penelope, you succeeded. Penelope, did you hear that? You did not
make a mistake.”

“I can stay,”
Penelope whispered.

“She can stay,”
Anne squealed, and grabbing Penelope she started waltzing around
the room. Her voice rang out as she burst into an impromptu
song,

Oh, my dear,
hear me pray

didn’t you hear
Mother say?

Miss Penelope
Fairweather

you can stay,
you can stay!

Penelope
laughed.

 An
overcome dowager grabbed the closest person standing next to her.
It turned out to be Hopkins, the valet. She joined the two girls in
her own version of a more demure Waltz and said, “We will see her
now at Miss Henleys, Miss Masters and Miss Attaways. Yes, Miss
Fairweather can certainly stay.”

Anne twirled
Penelope around her twice and then dropped her into a dip, “She can
go riding in Hyde park, St James and Ranelagh.”

“Or Tattersalls
and Vauxhalls,” the dowager sang.

“And to balls
and dinner parties,” Penelope cried.

“Attend morning
calls and funny plays. All day, every day,” Anne roared.

Hopkins,
getting carried away by the festive mood, added sombrely, “Miss
Fairweather, Miss Fairweather, at Blackthorne you can stay.”

The maids,
hiding behind the bannisters, started doing a celebratory jig and
joyfully sang their own background chorus,

The mops and
brooms are amazed,

The cups and
saucers are a tad dazed

As we stand on
our heads and shout in glee

The goat can
stay and so can Miss Pea!

An emotional
Penelope sniffed and blubbered,

Bring the
glasses

Bring the
bottle

Open up the
bubbles

For I am no
longer any trouble

I can stay, I
can stay

The dowager
says I can stay!

Perkins and
Hopkins (in a dignified way that befitted their status) bobbed
their heads in time with the imaginary music while Anne belted out
another tune,

A loony lass
and empty pockets

Country airs
and borrowed lockets

Can now prowl
and hunt on London streets

For wealthy men
and sugary treats

Soon she will
be clad in white and walk down the perfumed aisle,

In her hand she
will hold the flowers while sporting a shy becoming smile

And we will cry
and bawl and weep and weep

When alas she
marries the chimney sweep!

“Altogether
now,” the dowager shouted.

Perkins,
Hopkins and the maids behind the bannisters joined the dowager,
Penelope and Anne in enthusiastically singing the final chorus,

She can stay,
she can stay, she can stay

And no one
would dare say nay

For Penelope
Fairweather will be here at Blackthorne evvvv- errry single
daaaaaaaaay!

As the last
notes died down, the group dropped into a courtly bow aimed at the
lone spectator.

The spectator
happened to be the duke, who naturally scowled through it all. He
shook his head in disgust as he made his way to bed. That, he
concluded, had been bloody awful.

Penelope opened
her wardrobe and found a shrivelled rose lying on her shawls. She
picked it up and carefully placed it in the bottom drawer of her
dressing table. In the last two weeks she had found a handkerchief
with ‘Pinilowpea’ embroidered on it, an old pair of gloves tucked
under her pillow, a button carefully wrapped in brown paper , a box
of biscuits and two candle stubs.

Mary informed
her that the presents were from the maids downstairs and Bagley the
footman, fondly referred to as Walrus. Bagley had left the rose and
a box of biscuits because he had fallen in love with Penelope. As
for the maids, they had left the presents for Penelope as form of
encouragement.

When people
sing and dance together at four in the morning for someone’s
success, then that someone becomes special. The forty two servants
inside Blackthorne Mansion now felt a bond with Penelope. The
hundred and twenty servants outside the mansion had been informed
of the night’s events, and as a matter of solidarity they too felt
an attachment towards Penelope.

The maids were
often caught singing ‘she can stay, she can stay’ as they went
about their daily work. All at once, Penelope’s success and her
catching a man during the season became a matter of great
importance for the servants of the Blackthorne estate. They tried
in their own way to support the cause of the ‘bonnie lass from
Finnshire’ as she was now dubbed.

Penelope
appreciated the gestures, but she also felt that these small
reminders worked as an added pressure. She would now have to catch
a man this season. Otherwise she would be disappointing a whole lot
of people and a goat.

It wasn’t as if
she wasn’t trying. She was and she had a few men call for her.
Still, two things were greatly troubling her. The first was the
fact that only very old and very poor men had shown any interest in
her. Anne had suggested that Penelope keep her oldest suitor as a
reliable option. After all, the eighty year old Lord Autenberry
would die soon and leave her a rich widow. Besides, she wouldn’t
have to warm his bed.

The second
thing that was bothering her was the fact that duke had stopped
trying to send her home. It wasn’t as if he had suddenly softened
towards her. On the contrary, he was eyeing her more and more
grimly with every passing day. She sighed and pinned a sapphire
brooch onto her dress. She had to leave for Miss Martin’s soiree
and she had no more time to ponder any longer. For now she could do
nothing else but keep her eyes open and stay alert for the duke’s
next devious plan.

***

Lord Poyning
descended upon Penelope the moment she entered Miss Martin’s
soiree. He led her to the dance floor and holding her closer than
propriety deemed correct whispered in her ear, “You look like a
blooming, scented water lily, my dear.”

Penelope
wrinkled her nose. And he, she thought, was like a bowl of steaming
onion and garlic soup. He smelled.

As they circled
the dance floor, Penelope wondered how she had ever considered Lord
Poyning handsome. His charm had worn off quickly enough for her,
but Anne and several other young ladies continued to eye him in
lust.

She tried to
look at him dispassionately and find something attractive in him.
His face was nice enough, though his smile was a touch leery. His
eyes were big, blue and heavily lashed. They could have been
considered becoming if they did not hold a constant furtive
expression. His arms were spindly like thin, tapered candles
sticking out of a broad candle holder. It was an odd sight, but
what was odder still was his style of dancing. The man did not
glide. He hopped. He hopped like a bunny, and Penelope was forced
to hop along with him. She huffed and she puffed and she bounced as
she tried to match steps with him. In conclusion, she decided that
Lord Edward Poyning was an unattractive grasshopper.