Penelope (28 page)

“That’s not
true!”

He flicked his
cigar away and sighed. “I am sorry, my dear, but I have to go. We
can discuss this another time. Until then, remember my house is
open to you when you need it.”

“If I need it,”
Penelope said, turning around. She wanted to escape to mull over
all she had witnessed.

“You are in
love with the duke. You will need it, my dear.”

Penelope
stilled and slowly turned to face him.

Darkness and
flickering lamplights greeted her ashen face.

Lord Adair had
disappeared.

***

Later that
night…

“Miss Pea, Lady
Radclyff sent this note for you.”

“Thank you,
Mary,” Penelope said, tearing the envelope.

Mary attacked
Penelope’s hair while she was distracted with the note.

Penelope
quickly scanned the contents,

I have asked
fifteen different maids to wake me up tomorrow morning. The time
has been confirmed. Come up with a new plan. Every other plan of
yours has been horrid. Love Anne.

Penelope
crumpled the paper, wincing as Mary yanked her hair with an ivory
comb. She was pleased to have something to think about other than
Madame’s true identity and her parting words.

Mary blew out
the candle and Lady Bathsheba took her place on Penelope’s foot.
Penelope sighed softly at the familiar weight on her legs and spent
some time thinking up schemes for Anne. When the clock chimed four,
her hand crept under the pillow to clutch the piece of paper lying
there. She finally closed her eyes and slept.

 It was
not Anne’s note that she squeezed in her fist, but the duke’s that
said:

‘
Thank you
for staying’

“Wake up.”

“I will take
you to piddle in a moment … a few minutes,” Penelope murmured
sleepily.

“What? I don’t
need you take me to piddle. I want you to wake up.”

“Lady Bahhh …
thsheba … a moment.”

“Your goat
talks now, does she? I am warning you, wake up.”

Penelope
snuggled deeper into the quilt and pulled a pillow on top of her
head.

The pillow was
plucked off and a big pitcher of water emptied over her head.

“What, what,
what… what.” Penelope spluttered wide awake and sprang out of
bed.

Anne stood
grinning, holding an empty pitcher.

Penelope glared
at her. Quick as lighting she crossed over to the basin by her
washstand and emptied the contents over Anne’s head.

The two stood
soaking wet eyeing each other in disgust.

A loud snore
distracted them.

 Anne
glancing at the lump at the end of the bed asked, “I didn’t think
goats snored?”

“No one told
Lady Bathsheba that,” Penelope growled.

“Alright, I am
sorry. You would not wake up and I had no choice … They will be
here soon, Penelope.”

“I could have
caught my death,” Penelope replied refusing to thaw.

“It is the end
of May, and this room is like a monstrous roaring fireplace. If
anything, I did you a favour by cooling you down. You were sweating
in your sleep. Please, Penny,” Anne said, batting her lashes.

“You will never
drown me in my sleep again?” Penelope asked softening a little.

“I promise. I
brought you a cup of tea and biscuits.”

“What hour is
it?” Penelope asked, picking up the cup and inspecting the contents
on the plate.

Anne smiled.
Her peace offering had been accepted and she was forgiven.

“The clock had
struck five when Bessie woke me up. It must be half past now.”

“I have only
had an hour of sleep,” Penelope groaned.

“You can sleep
in the afternoon. I will send a note to Madame and ask her not to
come.”

At Madame’s
name the two girls became silent.

Penelope sat on
a chair by the desk, and Anne nudged the sleeping goat until she
had space to sit on the dry part of the bed.

“Do you think
Madame lied about her bonnet jiggling for only men?” Anne
asked.

“Can it jiggle
for men and women?” Penelope countered.

Anne shrugged,
“She is mysterious and her knack of knowing everything around her
is uncanny. I think she is a witch…”

Penelope did
not laugh, “She might as well be. I think her choices are hers to
make. She has been kind to me and kept all my secrets. I intend to
keep hers. Although I am surprised that such a juicy piece of
gossip has escaped the ton. How in the world did Madame manage
that?”

“The reason
Madame is so choosey when it comes to her clients is because of her
true identity, and only a handful of women know her secret. Mind
you, if she wasn’t the best modiste in town with an invaluable
expertise and a knack of ferreting out the dark secrets of her
clients, she would have been unmasked years ago. Mother and I found
out a long time ago, and we decided to respect her wishes because
somehow we couldn’t help trusting her. Even now, I still trust her.
She had to have good reason …”

The girls fell
silent. Penelope finished her tea and set the cup aside.

“Was the river
cold?” Anne suddenly blurted out.

Penelope
scowled. She had been avoiding discussing this for the last two
days and she had hoped that Anne had got the message by now.

“How did you
end up nearly drowning in the Thames? I thought I was the intended
victim,” Anne persisted.

“As per our
plan,” Penelope said through clenched teeth, “you were meant to
jump into the Thames and pretend that you were drowning. Lord
Poyning was to come and save you. I was keeping watch to give you
the signal when the two men arrived. Lady Bathsheba had other
ideas. A horse whined in the distance startling her. She escaped my
hold and raced across the wooden plank that jutted out into the
river. I followed and I slipped and fell.”

“Lord Rivers
did fish you out,” Anne consoled.

“It was not
romantic. It was a rotten smelling fish that he caught. The whole
blasted idea had been terrible from the beginning. Lord Rivers was
repelled rather than attracted by the sight I made.”

“It was your
idea,” Anne said under her breath.

Penelope glared
at her, “Madame said that men love damsels in distress. She failed
to point out that damsels in distress look wretched, miserable and
downright horrid.”

“Men do love
damsels in distress. We simply need to look lovely while fighting
mortal peril.”

Penelope stuck
her head under the bed in search of her slippers. After a moment,
her muffled voice hesitantly asked, “Are you sure … about Lord
Poyning, Anne?”

“What do you
mean?” Anne asked sharply.

“Do you love
him?” she asked carefully, emerging with the slippers in her
hand.

“Of course. How
can you even ask me that?”

“I suppose … If
you truly love him then … Well….”

“I do love him
with all my heart.”

Penelope
searched Anne’s face, and then satisfied with what she saw in her
eyes she nodded. “I have a plan, but this time we will need to
practice to make sure it all goes smoothly.”

“I knew I could
depend on you,” Anne said, clapping her hands.

“How long do we
have before Lord Poyning and Lord Rivers call on us?”

“A few hours.
They will be here by noon.”

“You are
certain?”

“Yes, I was
right behind Lord Martin when I heard Lord Poyning mention it to
Lord Rivers.”

“You mean that
you were hiding behind the porcine Lord Martin and
eavesdropping.”

Anne did not
deny it, but she did have the grace to blush.

Penelope eyed
her for a moment in mock anger, and then grinned and said, “Well
done.”

Anne grinned
back.

“Get dressed
and meet me in the apple orchard in ten minutes. We need to get to
work,” Penelope ordered.

“Yes, sir,”
Anne said, saluting smartly.

***

“Now, this is
what I suggest. Instead of going to Hyde Park, we will stay right
here on the Blackthorne Estate. We will have a picnic in the lovely
oriental garden, and then I will mention how I would love to have
fresh, crisp apples ….”

“Apples are not
in season,” Anne interrupted.

Penelope stared
up at the fruitless trees in the orchard. Her heart sank.

“Curly lettuce
is in season,” Anne said.

“Lettuce is not
romantic.”

“Artichokes?”

“Anne, I need a
tree bearing fruit!”

“Oranges? We
have a few Spanish varieties growing in the orangery.”

“Spanish
oranges … that will do. After the picnic, we will head to orangery.
You will climb a ladder and Lord Poyning will stand at the bottom
to catch the fruit. I will take Lord Rivers away from the scene.
Once I am gone, you will slip and fall into Lord Poyning’s arms.
You will be in shock and pretend to swoon and then blink your eyes
open and moan delicately.”

“Sounds
wonderful,” Anne said, her eyes glazed.

“Yes, well, now
we need to practice falling.”

“Why?”

Penelope took a
deep breath and let it out slowly, “Anne, you have to look
enchanting while falling. Only so much of your ankle must show. And
you have to fall from the right spot. If he doesn’t catch you, then
you may break your neck. I don’t want you dead.”

“Why won’t he
catch me?” Anne asked.

“He might be
distracted by a green spotted butterfly. I don’t know, anything may
happen. I am not leaving anything to chance.”

“You are
awfully moody today.”

“I have not
slept,” Penelope growled.

“No, I agree.
We must practice. After the Thames disaster, you had planned to
lock Lord Poyning and I in the barn … so romantic ... Anyhow, as
soon as you did lock us in, that fool of a Lord Rivers promptly let
us out. Your plans are dreadfully holey.”

Penelope took
no notice of her friend’s pathos. She set a ladder against a tree
and climbed up to the third rung.

“Let me try
this first to get a feel of it,” she called down to Anne.

She let her
foot slip, and she tumbled to the ground rather more forcibly than
was pleasant.

“You,” she
said, through gritted teeth, “were meant to catch me.”

“You didn’t
tell me,” Anne replied.

Penelope heaved
herself off the ground, ignoring Anne’s outstretched hand.

“You will do
the climbing and falling from now on,” Penelope snapped.

Anne nodded
meekly.

***

The duke paused
outside the orangery, his eye caught by the curious spectacle. Anne
was climbing a ladder and then she was falling. He was about to run
to help her when Penelope caught his sister neatly.

He heaved a
sigh of relief and turned to leave when Penelope’s voice stopped
him.

“Anne, your
arms were waving and legs flying. We cannot have your petticoats on
display. Do not forget your face. Keep it calm and serene.”

Penelope was by
now on the fourth rung, and then she was in the air falling towards
the ground.

Anne caught her
and said, “You looked like a baby sparrow being tossed out of the
nest by her mother for the first time. You were flapping.”

“Yes, well that
is why I suggested that we practice,” Penelope muttered.

The duke
watched the two climb and fall, over and over again. He scratched
his head, and then decided to keep an eye on them for the rest of
the day. They were up to something and he had a feeling it was not
something virtuous.

Penelope smiled
at Lord Rivers.

Everything had
gone according to plan. Anne was currently climbing a ladder with
Lord Poyning in attendance.

Penelope was
strolling far away from the scene of the crime dragging a reluctant
Lord Rivers along. She halted in her tracks when she came upon a
second ladder. Her mouth pursed in thought. She had, after all,
practiced falling just as much as Anne.

“Perhaps we
should pluck some oranges as well, Lord Rivers,” she said, trying
not to bat her lashes. Fluttering women alarmed the man.

“Do we have
to?” Lord Rivers asked feebly.

“Please, you
can hold the ladder while I climb up,” Penelope coaxed.

“Yes, of
course,” he replied reluctantly.

Penelope
smoothed her skirts, ran a hand through her hair, and then
delicately stepped onto the first rung. Her face was a mask of
serenity.

It was on the
fourth step that a vision of the duke touching her lips arrested
her. Her eyes squeezed shut and her stomach clenched.

“Not again,”
she whispered in distress. Lately her brain had got into a nasty
habit of conjuring up thoughts of the duke at the most inopportune
times. It was like having some sort of a spasm that constricted her
heart and wrenched her away from the world around her. The whole
thing was dashed inconvenient, especially at times like this.

She braced
herself as the familiar bittersweet feeling of part fright and part
pleasure washed over her. She recalled for the thousandth time the
chaste, brief kiss he had given her that day in the carriage, the
warmth of his hands when they had danced, and the elation that his
laugh always ignited within her.

She waited for
the spell to pass. It always did unless ….

She swayed, her
heart thundering. She knew he was close by. Somehow she always knew
when he was watching her.

The ladder
jerked under her and her eyes snapped open. The orangery, tree and
ladder came into focus. She glanced down and stifled a squeal. She
had climbed higher than she had intended.

Once again the
ladder wobbled alarmingly, and Penelope floundered on the fourth
step, her sweaty hands clenched tightly in an effort to stay put.
But the third enthusiastic nudge did her in and her foot slipped,
her skirts flew, her arms flapped, and she toppled to the
ground.