Penelope (26 page)

“I did not try
and trap you.”

“Your actions
say otherwise.”

“I don’t want
to argue over that again. What is the other reason?”

“My mother and
sister always heed my advice. No one has ever denied me anything.
True, Anne gets her way sometimes, but her desires are material.
She has never before gone against my wishes when it comes to
associating with the wrong sort. Since your arrival, the two of
them have turned against me. Anne has started arguing with me and
Mother doesn’t listen to anything I have to say anymore. You are
the reason for the change. Everything was going well until you
stormed into our lives.”

“So your
monstrous ego was squished and you decided to murder me?”

“Don’t be
ridiculous. I didn’t know the Desmond house was in such a bad
state. I only knew that it was stinking.”

“Don’t you dare
deny it. You did try and murder me!”

“I did
not.”

“You did.”

“Think
logically. Why would I save you if my intent was to murder you? I
did pull aside that beam and free you.”

“When you get
beef from the butcher, you don’t feel bad for the cow that has been
killed. But if someone asked you to wield a knife and kill the cow
yourself, you wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“Are you saying
that you are a cow?”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“You found me
alive and couldn’t bring yourself to kill me. It would have been
alright if the storm had finished me off. I am like that cow and
the storm is the butcher. Do you see now?”

“Yes, I see.
You absolutely insist that you are a cow. I am not arguing.”

“I didn’t mean
… Oh, what does it matter? Go away,” she snapped, picking up the
dresses and shoving them in the travelling case.

“You are a
simply using me as an excuse, Penelope. The truth is that you don’t
have the courage to face the season, for you know as well as I do
that no one will marry you. You are afraid of disappointing a lot
of people. That is why you have decided to run away.”

“That’s not
true.”

“Then stay and
prove it,” he said, walking towards the door.

“You wanted me
to leave.”

“Now I want you
to stay.”

“Is that
because you have changed your opinion of me? Do you still think
that I am a doxie?”

After a short
silence, the duke spoke really fast, “isupposeso.”

“What?”

“I said, I
suppose so.”

“You suppose
so? What sort of an answer is that? Do you or do you not?”

“I think
so.”

“Oh, that’s a
lot better. You suppose or think that I am no longer a doxie. That
makes it all very clear.”

“So, will you
stay?” he asked again, his hand now on the door knob.

“Leave,” she
muttered, pulling out her slippers from the wardrobe.

He opened the
door and walked out.

A moment later
his head popped back in.

“Penelope?” he
said.

“Now what?” she
asked, getting ready to aim a slipper at the door.

“I am sorry,”
he said softly and then closed the door.

“Damn the
rotten man,” she whispered, starting to unpack her bag. “Why did he
have to go and apologise?”

***

Exhausted after
the morning’s adventure and the fight with the duke, Penelope had
fallen asleep. She woke just in time to change for dinner.

Her stomach
growled when she walked into the dining room. She had eaten nothing
all day.

At Sir Henry’s
signal she dipped her spoon into the creamy tomato soup and took a
bite. It was delicious.

“Where are you
going tonight?” Sir Henry asked.

“We are staying
in. Penelope was caught in the storm, Grandfather, and I think she
is too tired to go anywhere,” Anne replied.

Penelope froze
at the mention of the storm. The soup suddenly tasted sickly sweet
in her mouth, and she placed the spoon back in the bowl. Her hands
were trembling.

The rational
part of her brain told her that she was going into shock. She shook
herself trying to focus on the candlelit table laden with wine
glasses, meats, fruits and cheeses. She firmly reminded herself
that she was surrounded by people and that she was safe. She forced
herself to focus on Sir Henry’s words.

“She is looking
a little peculiar. I thought it was a lover’s quarrel because
Charles has also been ogling his soup instead of eating it.”

The duke looked
up, his eyes silencing Sir Henry’s line of enquiry.

Sir Henry
glanced at the two white faces and frowned.

“Well, Annie,
any exciting balls coming up?” Sir Henry said, prudently changing
the subject.

“Lady Plasket
has invited us to dine tomorrow night.”

“Miss
Fairweather, Lady Plasket looks like an elongated mongoose. Her
head is ridiculously small as compared to her never-ending torso.
Be careful of her, my dear. She has been gossiping since she shot
out screaming into this world. I knew her a long time ago. I doubt
she has changed.”

Sir Henry
failed in his attempt to make Penelope smile.

She nodded
soberly, her eyes vacant. Perkins placed a glass in front of her,
and she absently picked it up and took a sip. Her eyes shot to the
duke as the taste of cherry brandy hit her tongue.

He avoided her
eyes.

 She
carefully placed the glass on the table and stood up. In a voice
that shook slightly, she excused herself.

No one stopped
her.

***

Penelope rushed
to her room and found Mary putting out her nightdress. Lady
Bathsheba was sitting on the carpet.

“Mary?”

“The duke
instructed, Miss. Lady Bathsheba is to stay with you at all
times.”

Penelope hugged
her pet, and for the first time that day the tears fell. She buried
her face in Lady Bathsheba’s white coat and stayed like that until
Mary left the room.

Once alone, her
tears fell in earnest. She set her mother’s portrait up on the
desk, but not one word escaped her lips. She cried silently, her
mind once again trapped in the dilapidated house with the storm
roaring over her head.

It was sometime
before she calmed down. Blowing her nose she climbed into bed
dragging Lady Bathsheba along. The goat nuzzled her cheek trying to
comfort her.

After eating
the entire tin of biscuits that Walrus had given her, she rested
her head on the pillow. But she couldn’t sleep a wink. Her head
felt heavy and her body ached. Restless, she stuck her hand under
the pillow trying to get comfortable and found a piece of paper.
She pulled out the sheet and holding it closer to the dying candle
read the words:

Thank you for
staying

She stared at
the dark blue fluid line, her heart racing. Her fingertip traced
the words and her eyes squeezed shut. She crumpled the paper and
threw it on the floor. Before she slept, her feelings were no
longer of fear but of anger.

“To lure a man,
a woman should go out into the woods on a full moon night stark
naked and dance around a roaring fire. If a lion with a swishy tail
comes to investigate, then that woman has succeeded in luring the
man … The danger is that you may become the lion’s supper. Still,
these are desperate times … Miss Fairweather, I have been spewing
nonsense for the past ten minutes and you have barely blinked …
Miss Fairweather?” Madame sighed. Her student was daydreaming
again. She tried again, “The duke has buttocks as glorious as a red
bottomed baboon. Ah, that got your attention.”

“I am sorry,
what did you say, Madame?” Penelope asked shaking her head. Surely
she had heard wrong … about baboons and buttocks.

“What is
worrying you, my dear?”

Penelope
squirmed.

“Miss
Fairweather, you can hardly confide in Anne and the dowager if it
is about the duke. I am good at keeping secrets.”

“How did you
know it concerned the duke?”

“I have been
trying to get your attention for some time, and the moment I
mentioned the duke and his glorious bottom, you snapped to
attention. Are you in love with him?”

“In love? The
man tried to kill me!”

Madame rolled
her eyes, “Did he now?”

Penelope
bristled at Madame’s tone. Annoyed, she told Madame all that had
occurred since her arrival at the Blackthorne Mansion. Anger forced
her tongue to say a little more than she would have liked.

Madame heard
her out in silence, her face turning grave.

“Penelope, I
think I can call you by your name after all that you have told me?
Now, if the duke truly wanted to kill you, then why did he save you
from that man in the alley? Why did he lift the beam away when you
were trapped? Why did he tell you his secret and beg you to
stay?”

“I am not sure
…”

“You never
really believed that he meant to harm you, did you? What is
worrying you is the fact that in anger you accused him unjustly.
You are frightened—”

“Frightened?
Yes, I suppose I am. I still get nightmares of being trapped
….”

“Oh, I don’t
mean that. You are frightened of the intensity … the intensity that
the duke brings with him every time he encounters you.”

“I am
frightened because of … peanuts.”

“Peanuts?”
Madame asked faintly.

“Yes, peanuts.
Beth, one of my stepsisters, is allergic to peanuts. Whenever she
eats a peanut her face flushes, her tongue feels swollen, her heart
starts racing, and she feels queer. I feel the same when the duke
is around, so you see the only conclusion is that I am allergic to
the duke. I know he does not truly want to kill me but he might do
just that by simply being around me.”

Madame started
laughing until tears streamed down her eyes. “This is why I think
girls should be educated in the matters of love. You really should
know what happens before and after … especially after,” Madame
sobered and continued, “Penelope, you are not allergic to the duke,
and I think you know that as well as I do. You are an intelligent
girl and yet you are trying to grasp at silly excuses to explain
away your feelings.”

Madame let her
words sink in. She then changed the topic, “You are coming along
fairly well in your lessons, but even after the season is over, I
want you to remember that I will be here for you.”

“Madame, what
should I do about him? “

“The word
‘duke’ freezes on your tongue,” Madame said, smiling kindly. “I
suggest that you focus on your season and stay true to your goal.
You have to marry, my love. As for the duke, deep down you trust
him with all your heart and soul. You always have from the moment
you pinched his exquisite ear. Don’t lie to yourself or him.”

Penelope traced
the grooves in the wooden desk, her eyes refusing to meet
Madame’s.

“That is all
for today. I will see you again tomorrow. And, Penelope, my final
advice on the matter is to never forget the existence of Lady Lydia
Snowly.”

Penelope’s hand
stilled. Her eyes met Madame’s, and the look she got in return was
full of pain and pity.

***

“Mother, stop
keeping Penelope all to yourself. Why does she have to read to you
every single day? I have something really important to discuss with
her.”

“Penelope has
to practice her music, Anne, as per Madame’s instructions. Your
gossiping can wait,” the dowager replied firmly.

Anne scowled
but consented. Accordingly, they trooped to the music room,
dragging a reluctant Penelope along.

 The late
afternoon sun streamed in through the tall windows, and Penelope
stared at the various musical instruments placed around the room.
She gulped.

“Anne, I think
we need to discuss something urgently. I can play for you some
other day.”

“No. You will
play right now, Penelope. It is only Annie and I in this room. Come
now, choose an instrument,” the dowager coaxed.

“You cannot be
worse than me,” Anne said and added in a whisper. “We will talk
about that issue later. I will come to your room early tomorrow
morning.”

“Will we have
time to plan?” Penelope whispered back.

“I will be in
your room before the sun rises,” Anne replied with a militant look
in her eye.

“Girls, stop
whispering like imbeciles,” the dowager scolded.

Penelope,
looking sheepish, shuffled towards the piano and sat down. She
pressed a key and the note rang true. The piano was tuned perfectly
and ready for use.

Penelope
squeezed her eyes shut in dismay. She had run out of excuses. She
had to play.

She struck the
first note just as the duke walked in.

Her fingers
paused, her eyes darting to the dowager in panic.

The duke
greeted his mother and sister with a kiss on the forehead, and then
did the oddest thing. He came and stood by her side and held out
his hand to her.

She stared at
his hand in confusion.

He raised his
eyebrow and smiled, “Give me your hand, Miss Fairweather.”

She gave it
without thinking.

He clasped it
gently and turned it over. He then bent his head and kissed the
back of her hand.

“Good
afternoon,” he said softly.

The dowager and
Anne gasped in shock. The duke had never before treated Penelope
like a human being, and here he was treating her like a lady no
less.

Penelope sat
staring at the point where his lips had touched her skin.

The duke’s
voice broke her trance, “What’s the matter, Miss Fairweather? Is
the instrument not good enough for you?” He stopped and frowned.
After taking a deep breath, he spoke again in a politer tone. “I
would like to hear you play.”

Penelope
frowned in annoyance, “I have never before handled such a fine
instrument. I... I am not very good. I am afraid you will be
disappointed.”