Penelope Page 3

  “Your sister, she believed you?” Lady Radclyff interrupted, receiving a glare from the duke for her efforts.

  “Yes, you see Janet was only five. Now she is six. She doesn’t believe so anymore …,” Penelope replied trailing off.

  The duke looked baffled for a moment, and then he scowled and said, “I will not agree to waste good coin on introducing this … this pastoral nuisance into polite society. The goat goes back home with the girl today, and I don’t care how late it is. She may travel all night. I will send armed guards if necessary.”

  He then addressed his butler, who had mysteriously appeared at his side, “Perkins, ask Hopkins to fetch the fake moustache from my room. I need to visit my grandfather.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And, Anne, come see me in my study before dinner.”

  “Yes, of course,” Lady Radclyff replied.

  He gave a short nod and then with a last glare at the goat strode out of the room.

  The door banged shut behind him making Penelope jump. She picked a spot on the carpet and tried to look every bit engrossed. She had been unceremoniously dismissed within a day of her arrival in London. She was utterly mortified and felt about as big as an ant.

  She cringed, squeezing her eyes shut. She no longer knew how to face the two women she had been entertaining a few moments ago. She forced one eye open when she felt a touch on her arm.

  The dowager had come up to her and Penelope braced herself for the apologetic speech that she felt sure was coming. The dowager would no doubt tell her how sorry she was and that she would arrange for a suitable carriage to drive her back to Finnshire.

  “Open your other eye as well, Miss Fairweather, and please come and sit down. We have a great deal to discuss,” the dowager said.

  Penelope wrenched her other eye open and allowed herself to be led to her place on the chair.

  “I am so sorry,” Lady Radclyff said the moment Penelope sat.

  Penelope winced, having no idea what she could say in such a situation.

  The dowager took her hand once more. “My son is a little …” The dowager paused searching for words.

  “Churlish?” Penelope supplied without thinking.

  “Proud and—” the dowager started to say.

  “Domineering?” Penelope interrupted again, trying desperately to keep her mouth shut. It didn’t do to insult the duke, especially to his mother.

  “Wilful,” the dowager retorted.

  “Rude?” Penelope gasped out.

  “Responsible,” Lady Radclyff joined in.

  “Patronising, hateful and a crusty fellow,” Penelope shot back.

  The dowager’s mouth twitched as she answered, “Hardworking, disciplined and kind.”

  “Kind?” Penelope asked doubtfully.

  “Yes, kind. Now if you are done with the word games, may I please explain?” the dowager asked.

  At Penelope’s sheepish nod, the dowager’s eyes glazed over and she said reminiscently, “Charles was a wonderful child, a little mischievous and always laughing…”

  Both Penelope and Lady Radclyff snorted in disbelief.

  The dowager ignored them and continued, “His father died when he was seventeen and ever since then he has been responsible for a large duchy. He is a good duke and provides well for his tenants. Unfortunately, his numerous duties cause him to have little patience with anything out of the ordinary. His life runs like clockwork with everything having a designated time. You must forgive him if he is a little bad tempered …”

  “A little bad tempered?” Lady Radclyff smirked.

  “I admit he forgets his manners at times,” the dowager continued loudly, “and a mother can go on lauding his virtues. What I am trying to say, my dear, is that I apologise on his behalf.”

  “You don’t have to,” Penelope replied weakly.

  In spite of the dowager’s words, she could not forgive the duke. He may be responsible for the livelihood of hundreds, if not thousands, but that didn’t give him the right to be an ill-mannered brute.

  He was, she decided, thoroughly spoilt.

  “As for you and Lady Bathsheba, you will stay until the season is over. He may be the duke, but I am his mother. You are here as my guest and on my invitation. Please say you will stay.”

  Penelope looked at the dowager in dismay. She noticed the dowager had the same dark blue eyes as her son. They were not as bright or intense, nor were they harsh in expression. They were faded with age and gentle. Her features were sweet and delicate, and in spite of the grey in her hair, it was easy to see that the dowager had once been a very beautiful woman.

  The duke must have inherited his harsh face and manners from his father, she concluded.

  As for staying on, she was torn. True, she could not go back…Yet this was, after all, the duke’s house, whatever his mother may say. To stay after being so rudely dismissed was against her pride.

  “The duke?” she asked finally.

  “We have a way of convincing him. It is infallible, and we only use it when circumstances are dire,” the dowager said smiling.

  “If he agrees, will you stay?” Lady Radclyff asked, anxiously.

  “Will he apologise?” Penelope asked, still undecided.

  “Err … he never apologises, but he will ask you to stay. Please take that as his apology, I beg you,” Lady Radclyff said, pressing her hand.

  “How will you manage it?” Penelope asked, buying time.

  The dowager smiled and looked at Lady Radclyff meaningfully. Penelope, in turn, looked at Lady Radclyff in confusion.

  “Anne here is our secret weapon.”

  Penelope stared at Lady Radclyff.

  Anne Radclyff, the duke’s sister, had inherited neither her mother’s sweet and gentle disposition nor her good looks. Her eyes were a lighter blue and her nose was a little too sharp. But like most accomplished English ladies, she managed to disguise her faults under a garb of elegance, powders and yards of flattering silk.

  She looked back at Penelope with a resolute expression.

  “Secret weapon?” Penelope asked in bewilderment.

  “Yes, you see, Anne here is Charles’ big weakness. He loves his sister more than anything in the world. He is protective and over possessive, but if Anne sheds a single tear, he does all he can to make her smile again. I admit we use this to our advantage at times.”

  “I will shed bucket loads of tears for you, Miss Fairweather,” Lady Radclyff said happily.

  Penelope stared at Lady Radclyff in wonder. She hadn’t thought the duke could love someone so dearly.

  “You can’t let her tears go to waste, Miss Fairweather. Will you stay?”

  Penelope took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She finally smiled and nodded uncertainly. She still didn’t think the duke would agree.

  Lady Radclyff clapped her hands in pleasure and hugged Penelope, “Oh, we will have such fun.”

  The dowager smiled, “Now that’s settled, I want to know what happened to the Falcon. Did he drop you all the way to our doorstep?”

  “Yes, I invited him to tea,” Penelope replied.

  “To tea? Here?” the dowager asked panicking. Having the duke overlook the presence of a goat was one thing, but a highwayman?

  “He declined,” Penelope said sadly.

  “How … how unfortunate,” the dowager replied faintly.

  “It is, isn’t it?” Penelope said, and then frowned, “I have a question. What did the duke mean when he said that he needs a fake moustache to meet his grandfather?”

  “Ah well, Miss Fairweather, why don’t I show you to your rooms? I will tell you all about my grandfather and instruct you in our household rules and ways while you get ready for dinner. I am confident that you will stay. Therefore, it is best that you know all our quirks as soon as possible,” Lady Radclyff replied.

  “Rules … quirks?” Penelope asked nervously.

  “Come, Miss Fairweather, Lady Bathsheba. The instruction will take some
time,” Lady Radclyff said, getting up and fluffing her skirts.

  Penelope stood up and hastily curtsied to the dowager. She then raced after Lady Radclyff, who was already at the door.

  “Wait, I want to know what rules. Why fake moustaches? Lady Radclyff … I may change my mind about staying … Lady Radclyff!”

  Chapter 4

  “Do you like your room?” Lady Radclyff asked.

  “I have a canopy bed all to myself,” Penelope replied in awe.

  “The bathing chamber is through here,” Lady Radclyff said, opening a beautifully painted French screen door.

  Penelope poked her head in to stare wide-eyed at the claw-footed ivory tub.

  “There are flowers in the bathroom too … fresh flowers.”

  “I am fond of flowers, so my brother makes sure that the house is always full of blooms. He gets the housekeeper, Mrs Reed, to place them everywhere I may chance to look.”

  Penelope didn’t want to remember the duke, so she quickly went towards the walnut wardrobe and opened it. Someone had unpacked her travelling case, and the few dresses she owned had been neatly folded and placed on the shelves. They looked pathetic amongst all the luxury. The curtains in the room would have made prettier dresses than the ones she had brought.

  “Now, tell me, Lady Radclyff, what did the duke mean about the moustache?”

  Lady Radclyff joined her and started inspecting the dresses as she spoke, “Sir Henry Woodville is my mother’s father. He joins us for dinner every evening. Other than that, he stays in his rooms on account of his delicate constitution and ailing health. He … he is a little traditional in his mindset. What I mean is that he holds peculiar notions about how a person should be.”

  “I see,” said Penelope, not seeing at all.

  Lady Radclyff pulled out a pink dress and eyed it critically as she continued, “Grandfather thinks that one should judge a man by his moustache. If a man has a respectable and by that he means a full, very large, well groomed moustache, then that man is of some consequence. He simply refuses to entertain anyone who does not have a moustache.”

  Tilting her head to one side Penelope searched Lady Radclyff’s face … She found her deadly serious.

  Lady Radclyff flung the dress on a chair, and then went and sat on the bed. She patted the place next to her and Penelope joined her.

  “Let me explain. Grandfather holds very old fashioned notions. He believes that women and children should be seen and not heard. Women should not be educated. An ignorant woman is a good woman. We should basically behave like imbeciles, fluttering our lashes and following a man’s every wish. Men, on the other hand, should be manly. They should conduct themselves as such and wear appropriate clothing to reflect the same. Therefore, a man without a moustache is no man at all. A man, he says, should wear his moustache with pride, and the more glorious the moustache, the more powerful the man.”

  “He sounds ghastly.”

  Lady Radclyff sighed and said, “Yes, it is difficult, but you see he is so old that out of respect we try and keep him happy. We think he is going to die soon, but then I have been hearing about his impending demise since I was in frocks.”

  “How old is he?”

  “We guess around a hundred, though his exact age is difficult to determine. They didn’t keep records of birth in those days like we do now. Or if they did, then Grandfather’s mother wasn’t informed of the fact.”

  “What happens when you have guests and they don’t have moustaches?”

  “We keep a supply of fake moustaches. The butler, Perkins, comes along with the tray and everyone chooses one and sticks it on. We keep all varieties— grey, brown, black and auburn. Of which some are wispy, some are full and some are droopy, while some curl. The duke allows the guests to choose their own and they see it as a hearty joke. They don’t mind, and even if they did, no one would say so to the duke.”

  “Hmm,” Penelope said, digesting this odd fact.

  “Will you wear this pink for dinner tonight? It is perfect and Grandfather will approve of it. We can attend to your wardrobe and visit the modiste tomorrow. The first ball is in a little over a week, and I am sure Mademoiselle Bellafraunde will have something suitable for you in time.”

  Penelope eyed the frothy dress in distaste. It had layers and layers of underskirts, and it was a tad long on her. The bodice was low but not embarrassingly so. Artificial pearls were scattered all over it.

  It had been a present from her well intentioned neighbour, Mrs Biddy, and she had packed it out of sentiment and not with any intention of wearing it. But she didn’t want to offend Lady Radclyff, so she nodded reluctantly.

  “Wonderful. Now that’s decided, I can get on with the rules.”

  “Rules?”

  “House rules that everyone must follow including guests. No exceptions.”

  “I see.”

  “Now, rule number one. Everyone must be on time for meals. Dinner is at seven, breakfast at nine, nuncheon at twelve and tea is at four. If you are late by even a second, then you will have to miss your meal. You may not start eating before the allotted time either. Not a second earlier or you will be asked to leave the table. Wait for one of us to pick up the fork so you don’t make a mistake,” Lady Radclyff rattled off the well-rehearsed speech.

  “But how do you know if we are a second early or late?”

  “Grandfather keeps his eye trained on his pocket watch and gives us the signal to start. At other times, the duke tells us the time. The only respite we have from this schedule is when the duke and Grandfather are not present. Then we can eat when we like.”

  “What else?” Penelope asked, disliking the duke even more. No one had been so strict in her household. This sounded dreadful.

  “You cannot eat anything in your room. Not even a biscuit, although you are allowed to have an occasional hot drink brought to you. Mother and I have our tea in our rooms every morning. I also recommend leaving for each meal a little earlier then you would normally, since the house is large and you may lose your way.”

  Penelope scrambled to look for a pen and paper to write it all down.

  “I have it all written up. I keep one for all guests. It should be in your dressing table drawer.”

  Penelope nodded faintly and went to fetch it.

  “Now, this bit here means that you cannot go anywhere without a chaperone. You may not entertain anyone in the house without the duke’s prior permission. You cannot go certain parts of the house like the servants’ quarters, kitchens and the back garden.”

  “Why can’t I invite anyone?”

  “The duke takes his responsibilities very seriously. He is very particular about our safety.”

  “I am hardly going to invite a ruffian to dine,” Penelope said offended, forgetting the fact that just a few hours earlier she had issued an invitation to an infamous highwayman, robber and deer stealer.

  “Yes, well, now the next rule,” said Lady Radclyff hurriedly. “You must on no account enter his study.”

  Penelope wouldn’t have a problem following that rule. She would avoid the man like the plague.

  “The rest are simple enough, outlining consequences if you are unwed and visit a gentleman in his chambers while living under this roof. No roaming the hallways at night in your dressing gown and a few more. Read it tonight when you have time. Other than that, you may do as you please.”

  “Huh,” said Penelope, turning the page. Twenty one rules to be adhered to or you would be asked to leave. She wondered how long she would last.

  “Well, I think I will leave you to rest and get ready for dinner. I will come and fetch you myself just so you know the way. Now, I need to see my brother in his study and shed those tears. Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck,” Penelope muttered absently, her eyes feverishly scanning The Standard Decree on the Principles of Behaviour within the Blackthorne Household and trying to memorise it at the same time. She didn’t hear the door click shut as Lady Radclyff left.<
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  ***

  Mary jammed a comb in Penelope’s hair and attempted to run it through. It stuck fast.

  “Your hair, Miss Pea, is like a curly tailed chimpanzee’s.”

  “Have you ever seen a chimpanzee, Mary?”

  “No, but the stablehand was telling me all about it. He saw one in a circus.”

  “Flirting already? I take it the stablehand is a strapping young man.”

  “Lor, Miss Pea, go on with you and your teasing.”

  Penelope smiled at her maid and Mary grinned back.

  “It is good to see you happy, Miss. I was worried after what Madam Gertrude said to you this morning. You looked dreadfully unhappy.”

  “You heard?”

  “I was putting out the washing, Miss. I heard enough.”

  “I am sure she did not mean it,” Penelope replied, avoiding Mary’s eye.

  “Will you find a man, Miss?”

  “The dowager will help me, I am sure. If nothing happens, then you can always go back to the village. Or stay on here.” She quickly changed the subject. “Is your accommodation alright, and how are you handling things downstairs?”

  “I am alright. It is you I am worried about, Miss. As for the servants’ quarters, we actually have windows. I can see right into the back garden and can toss Lady Bathsheba down for her business from the window.”

  “So the duke provides well for his servants?”

  “Lady Radclyff is in charge of the kitchens and the servants. We are not begrudged some extra tea money now and then, and we can eat all we like. Even the scullery maid is a plump thing. It seems too good to be true for the likes of us.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Penelope said quietly. After a moment she added, “That will be all, Mary, thank you.”

  Mary hesitated, but a silent appeal from Penelope had her bobbing a curtsy and leaving the room, albeit reluctantly.

  Mary had always wanted a room with a window, Penelope thought fondly. The servants’ rooms in Finnshire had been dark and damp with barely a glimmer of light. She glanced at the soft, inviting bed and smiled ruefully. She, too, had been given a room fit for a princess, a far cry from her small but comfortable room at her father’s house.