Penelope (32 page)

“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 book 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.

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
having 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.”