Penelope (33 page)

“Pull that rope
by my bed. It will ring in Hopkins’ room.”

She did as he
asked and finally felt brave enough to look at him.

He was
furiously scribbling something on a sheet lying on his desk.

“How soon can
we leave?” she asked.

“You are not
coming.”

“But Anne may
not listen to you. I may be able to help. She will need a woman
around …”

“I can’t waste
time waiting for you to get dressed.”

“I will only be
a moment.”

“You have two
and a half minutes,” he said, knowing full well that it was
impossible for her to dress so quickly.

He strode out
of the room, pausing long enough to ask a sleepy Hopkins to get the
carriage ready.

“Wait, I am
coming,” Penelope called.

The duke turned
angrily, “I told you I don’t have time …” his words died away.

Penelope was
shuffling towards him. She had pulled off the giant quilt from his
bed and wrapped it around herself. The ends of the vibrant purple
quilt were sweeping the floor. Her small head poked out, and her
hair was still a mess. The curls sprang out as if terrified of her
scalp and waved in all sorts of directions.

“Why are you
waddling?” the duke asked, blinking at the odd vision.

Her foot poked
out to show him his woollen slippers.

“You won’t be
able to walk in those. They are too large for you. I don’t have
time to waste …”

Before he had
finished speaking, she was clutching the end of the quilt and his
giant grey slippers to her chest.

“I can walk
faster barefooted. I will put them on once I am in the carriage,”
she pleaded, looking ridiculously tiny engulfed in yards of
cloth.

It was her big,
brown hopeful eyes that made him blurt out, “Fine!”

At the entrance
the duke gathered her up in his arms. “The stones will cut your
feet, and the slippers are too big for you to walk quickly
enough.”

He deposited
her in the carriage, rapped the walls to signal the driver, and
then they were off.

***

Penelope,
bundled in the corner of the carriage, did not dare make the
slightest sound. The duke was looking grim, and he was likely to
lash out at her if he remembered her existence. She watched him
from the corner of her eye. The single lamp hanging from the roof
illuminated his face. She had been amazed at how rapidly and calmly
he had organised everything. He was so … wonderfully wonderful. Her
eyes glazed over and a foolish love sick smile graced her lips.

He spoke,
surprising her out of her daydreams, “I assume they are heading to
Gretna Green.”

Penelope
nodded, “Won’t the dowager worry when she finds you both gone?”

“I have
instructed Hopkins and left a note for her. She will be
alright.”

“I hope so,”
her voice quavered.

“Don’t worry,
Penelope, we will find her.”

Penelope bit
her lip. She knew that he was the one overwrought with worry. He
loved his sister more than anything in the world, and yet he had
remembered to soothe her fears.

“I know you
will,” she said confidently. Until then she had not realised how
absolute her faith was in him. She was certain he would find Anne,
and in time to stop the wedding. The moment she had told him about
the elopement, her biggest worry had fled.

A brief silence
descended on the carriage, and she almost didn’t catch his
whispered ‘thank you’.

She leaned back
in her seat and peered at the window. “Can we open the
shutters?”

“No, the dust
and stones may fly in and scratch you eye.”

“What hour do
you think it is?”

“The milk maids
are yodelling and the traders already screaming their wares. It
must be around four in the morning.”

“Does London
ever sleep? In Finnshire …”

“Farmers wake
up early as well, Penelope. Close your eyes.”

Penelope closed
her eyes. The rolling motion of the carriage, the rhythmic
pitter-patter of rain on the roof, and the warm blanket soon lulled
her to sleep.

The sun was
peeking over the horizon when the carriage jerked to a stop.
Penelope awoke to loud voices and commotion. The duke pushed her
back onto the seat when she tried to get up.

“Stay,” he
whispered, and then gracefully stepped out of the carriage.

Penelope sat
twiddling her thumbs, and her leg tapped the floor impatiently.
Another shout had her bounding across to where the duke had sat.
The shutter was open on his side and she poked her head out.

A highwayman
wearing a long, red silk cape and a black mask with an ostrich
feather sticking out above his ear had a gun pointing straight at
the duke.

Penelope did
not pause to think. She wrapped the purple quilt around herself,
and then flung the carriage door open and jumped down.

She ignored the
other men standing around, her eyes on the duke. She went and stood
in front of him protectively.

“You will have
to shoot me before you get to the duke,” she announced bravely.

The gun in the
highwayman’s hand dipped slightly.

“Let me inform
you that I know a member of your fraternity extremely well. If he
found out who you were threatening, then your little employment
would be over in an instant.”

The duke
gripped Penelope’s arm and tried to push her aside.

“Stop it,” he
hissed in her ear.

Her hand
sneaked out from under the quilt and she flicked his ear.

“Did you just
flick me?” the duke asked annoyed.

“Keep quiet or
I will do it again. I know how to deal with these people. I have
experience,” she hissed back.

“Experience in
handling highwaymen? Do you ever think? You could get us both
killed. I was handling the situation …”

“I saw how you
were handling the situation. He has a gun pointed straight at you,
and you are—”

A throat
cleared and Penelope snapped her attention back to the
highwayman.

“Penelope, step
aside,” the highwayman said.

“Jimmy? … Oh, I
am so glad it is you. I thought it was …”

“Penelope, I
said step aside. I want to have a word with this man.”

“But … but he
is the duke … Jimmy?” Penelope said, her voice quivering in
confusion.

“Do as he says,
or once I am through here, you will be very, very sorry,” the duke
growled, pushing her away.

Penelope
stumbled and righted herself. She tried to take her place in front
of him again, but his iron arm kept shoving her back.

“Now, the Duke
of Blackthorne, I assume?” Jimmy asked.

The duke
nodded.

“What are you
doing with her at this hour?”

“I am on my way
to save my sister. She has eloped with the wrong man. Penelope here
is helping me.”

“Is he telling
the truth?” Jimmy asked Penelope.

She nodded.

Jimmy
paused.

“What are your
intentions towards her?” he said, turning back to the duke and
waving a gun in Penelope’s direction.

“Honourable.”

“Will you
swear?”

“Yes.”

Jimmy lowered
his gun, “Well, then it’s alright.”

“I am not
done,” the duke said, scowling at Jimmy.

Jimmy grinned,
“I did not think so.”

“What are
your
intentions towards Penelope?” the duke snapped.

Jimmy pocketed
the gun. “She is the sister of my soul… soul sister.”

“You have a
soul?” the duke asked incredulous.

“How poetic,
Jimmy. He does so love poetry,” Penelope exclaimed proudly. He had
let her precious duke go. All was forgiven.

“A poetic
highwayman?” the duke asked.

“Well-read
too,” Penelope said, stepping up to Jimmy and giving him a hug.

The duke
grabbed her arm and yanked her back. His face was thunderous.

“Oh, I am
sorry, your grace. I know why you are angry. I can exchange
pleasantries later,” Turning to Jimmy, she said urgently, “We are
in a hurry.”

“I understand.
I will accompany you to a nearby inn. You can change your horses
and refresh yourselves there, and I will ensure that at least part
of your journey is safe.”

Jimmy shouted
orders and a few men on horseback took their positions behind their
carriage.

They were off
once more with a retinue of robbers and thieves protecting them on
all sides.

“How is your
wife?” Penelope asked once they were comfortably seated inside the
carriage.

Jimmy’s bottom
lip trembled.

“Jimmy? Jimmy,
what is it?” Penelope asked concerned.

“Pudding ran
away,” he wailed.

“Pudding?”
Penelope asked, glancing at the duke. He shrugged his
shoulders.

“Yes, Pudding,”
Jimmy blubbered. “Pudding left her Boobookins.”

“Pudding is
your wife?” Penelope asked carefully.

Jimmy
nodded.

“The Cobra,” he
sniffed, “whenever he successfully robs a man, he waits for his
victim to depart, and he then lies down on the ground and does the
Cobra dance—”

“Cobra dance?”
Penelope interrupted, her eyes round as saucers.

“Yes, well, it
is like this,” Jimmy said, mopping his face with a bright green
handkerchief. He then stretched out on the floor of the carriage,
nudged the duke and Penelope’s feet aside, and started twisting and
moaning and shaking in an odd sort of way.

The duke and
Penelope watched fascinated.

Jimmy got up
after a minute of convulsions and brushed off the dust from his
beautifully cut red velvet pants.

“My apple
dumpling …”

“Who?” both the
duke and Penelope chorused.

“Pudding, apple
dumpling … my wife,” he clarified. “She watched him do the dance.
She was so enamoured by it that she left me and all our
children.”

The duke
awkwardly patted the shoulder of the gloomy thief.

“You should do
the Falcon dance,” Penelope said after thinking for a while.

“Eh? What’s
that?” Jimmy asked, perking up.

“I don’t know …
Make it up …Something like this.”

 Penelope
started flapping like a bird, her neck bobbing like an owl.

Jimmy
faithfully copied her.

“Bob once or
bob twice?” Jimmy asked.

“Three is a
good number. Bob, bob, bob, and flap. Bob, bob, bob, and flap,” she
replied.

Thereafter,
they spent some time deciding on the intricate details and the
rhythm of the Falcon dance.

The duke closed
his eyes, his lips pressing together to keep his laughter from
bubbling over.

 The
carriage rolled to a stop. They had arrived at the inn.

“The Golden
Pass,” Penelope read, and then turning to the duke said, “Your
grace, do not eat the chicken here … I think, instead of chickens,
they feed their customer crows. I dined here once.”

The duke
couldn’t help it. He laughed.

As soon as the
duke stepped out of the carriage and into the blazing afternoon
sun, Jimmy launched into activity.

“I have stopped
robbing ladies ever since my apple dumpling left me, but I should
have something …” Jimmy said, patting his cloak.

“What are you
looking for?” Penelope asked, watching him shake out his red silk
cloak and search all his fifty two pockets.

“I don’t have
one with me …Wait, my men are guarding …” Jimmy muttered to
himself, and leaped out of the carriage.

A moment later,
he leaped back in and settled a large, intricately carved wooden
box on the seat.

“What is it?”
Penelope asked in a hushed voice. The box was beautiful.

“Apart from
books, I have a penchant for collecting these,” Jimmy said,
caressing the box lovingly. “I carry them with me everywhere I go.
It hurts to part with a single one, but I think my soul would cry
forever if I did not share it with you.”

“But what is
it? And if it is stolen, then I am not taking it.”

“It is stolen,”
Jimmy said, opening the box. “But I think you will agree that your
need is greater than mine at the moment. Even your morals cannot
quibble. You will take it.”

Penelope was
quiet for a long time. She stared at the contents of the box and
finally nodded.

“Thank you,”
she said reverently.

Jimmy smiled in
triumph and sorted through the contents; the contents being
hundreds of combs and brushes of all shapes, sizes and colours.

“I would love
to give you this beautiful ivory piece, but this would suit you
better,” he said, taking out the sturdiest and ugliest wooden comb
from the box. “It is not because I don’t want you to have a
lovelier one …”

“I understand.
Anything else will get stuck in my hair and break.”

“Precisely. Now
turn around.”

“Do you know
how to dress a woman’s hair?”

“You forget, I
have daughters and they no longer have a mother. I had to learn how
to braid. We had a nanny for the children. She stole my silver
lampshade and ran away. I haven’t had time to find a replacement
…”

“How could
someone steal from you? You are a sophisticated thief,” Penelope
said, turning around and letting Jimmy attack her hair.

Jimmy reddened,
“I am pretty good at my job, but even sophisticated thieves like us
can be duped. I had partaken of a little too much wine that night.
Numnums had run away and I was feeling maudlin …”

“Numnums?”

“My apple
dumpling, my pudding, my berry pie, blossom butt—”

“Your wife,”
she hastily interrupted.

“Yes,” Jimmy
sighed.

 He
manipulated her hair for a little longer and then said, “Here, I am
done.”

“You are
extraordinarily talented. Even Mary has never been able to make my
hair behave so quickly,” Penelope said, inspecting her hair in a
small mirror that Jimmy produced.

“It is a simple
braid. The duke may return any moment. I had to work fast. At least
you will no longer frighten the inn’s customers.”