Loving Tales of Lords and Ladies

by Abigail Agar

  “Ah, there is my mother now. Looks like she is lining up someone for me to be introduced to as always,” Penelope said not minding that to do so was not done and bordering on rude.

  The merchant looked like a fish out of water as Penelope gave him a smile. “Take care,” Penelope said as she turned to leave, her smile still firmly in place.

  Penelope walked towards her mother who was smiling at a man that Lady Winchester clearly thought was a good match for her daughter. Penelope took her turn at judging the man and found him entirely too preoccupied with smoothing his hair down, what of it there was. Worse still, if his straining coat buttons were any indication, the man was completely oblivious to the girth of his own waistline.

  Lady Winchester waved her hand ever so daintily at Penelope when Penelope neared and introduced her. “This is my daughter, Lady Penelope Withersfield. Penelope, this lovely young man is the Earl of Chesterton.” Lady Winchester eyed Penelope with meaning, and Penelope knew all too well that her mother was wanting her to make a good impression on the man.

  Penelope forced a smile on her face and extended her hand towards the man. It was a bit bold of her, but he seemed to appreciate the gesture as he took her hand gently. “Sir Chesterton—”

  Her mother cleared her throat softly and laughed as if to soften Penelope’s mistake. The woman said in a low voice, “Lord Chesterton.”

  “Oh, I do apologise, Your Lordship. You must think awfully of me now,” Penelope said with fervent sorrow to the man.

  The Earl waved off her concern. “All is forgiven,” he assured her. His hand ran over his wavy, yet thinning strands again as his smile crinkled his face along well-creased lines. “Easy enough mistake, is it not?”

  “Yes,” Lady Winchester said, but her eyes slanted towards her daughter.

  Penelope kept her eyes on the plump man and thanked the Earl for his kindness. “That is very benevolent of you,” Penelope said. The man could have been angry for the slight, but at least he had the decency to understand that mistakes happen. It probably was not worth ruining his relationship with the Marquis at least.

  “Her Ladyship was telling me that you paint. Was she telling me true?” the Earl said with the feigned interest that one gave a child for a hobby that was absurd.

  Penelope nodded. “Oh, yes, I do love to paint very much.”

  “She is quite the artist,” Lady Winchester said with what Penelope almost took for pride.

  The Earl smiled. “What a lovely hobby for a young lady to have,” he said.

  There was something about the way he said it that made Penelope bristle. “Is it a hobby that the women in your household participate in, Your Lordship?” Penelope asked as she folded her hands in front of her primly and smiled ever so sweetly at the man.

  “My sister had some training in the arts, as young noblewomen often do, but my mother never approved of it going too far,” the Earl said with a look to Penelope’s mother. “You will understand, I am sure,” the Earl said to Lady Winchester.

  Penelope’s mother dipped her head as if conceding a point. “My very own mother condemned it as a disservice to the young feminine mind as it can put all manner of ideas into their heads.”

  Penelope’s eyebrows rose. “Was it not you, Mother, who put it forth as a noble pursuit for me to undertake?”

  “I did,” Lady Winchester said with a smile. “Times change, and now it is quite a fanciful way for young ladies to present themselves to the world. I think my daughter’s art embodies her quite well actually. Have you seen the pieces that are on display at the local museum?”

  The Earl looked as if he did not quite know what to say. “No,” the man admitted. “I fear that I have not as of yet had that pleasure.”

  Lady Winchester gave the Earl a smile. “You are probably like my husband, so busy. Men have all the weight of the world on their shoulders.” Her mother leaned in as if in conspiracy and said to the Earl, “Penelope has also studied dance as part of her education.”

  Penelope felt very much like she was some horse at a showing, on display and having her attributes touted to potential buyers. The Earl’s face brightened upon hearing of Penelope’s skill in dancing. “Such a wonderful thing to be instructed in. It shall come in handy with all the engagements of a fine lady,” the Earl exclaimed with pleasure.

  Lady Winchester seemed very pleased as well and gave Penelope a smile. Penelope sighed and acknowledged, “Yes. It will come in quite handy.” Penelope added in her mind that her whole value did not lie in how graceful she looked while dancing at parties for her husband’s friends. No, that would be quite rude to say out loud. Penelope forced a smile onto her face.

  The Earl said, “I am now quite curious as to how you dance, Lady Withersfield. Would you accompany me on the floor for a song?”

  Penelope saw no way of getting out of the dance and assented with a dip of her head. She lifted her skirts with one hand and placed her free hand in the hand that the Earl stretched out to her. The song was one that she loved, and Penelope just focused on it.

  The Earl nodded to several others as they swept around the dance floor in the easy steps of a waltz. Penelope found it rather boring, but the Earl seemed suitably impressed. Truth be told, the man was not a wonderful dancer. His feet were heavy and dragged along the floor, causing Penelope to have to compensate.

  It was far more tiring a dance than any waltz had a right to be. She was fuming inwardly that this man thought himself such a catch. Her family was of a higher status than the Earl, and yet the man treated her as if she should be honoured by every glance that he bestowed upon her.

  She was more than grateful when the song came to an end and the Earl escorted her off the floor. Penelope noted the pink to the man’s cheeks. His breath came in short puffs. Penelope wagered the only time the man did anything strenuous was these dances.

  Lady Winchester greeted them with a pleased expression that made Penelope feel slightly ill. If she did not somehow stamp out the Earl of Chesterton’s interest in her, then Penelope feared she would be betrothed before the morning. She glanced around and looked for something that might give her an escape route out of the acquaintance without causing her mother to go into a fit of rage.

  Penelope cleared her throat causing the Earl to look back to her. She gave the man a smile. “Is that your sister?” Penelope asked as she jutted her chin to a lady across the way.

  The Earl chuckled. “No. That is the Duchess of Trenton.”

  “Oh,” Penelope said as she pursed her lips. “I thought you two were so intimate earlier that you had to be family.”

  The Earl’s cheeks tinted with a pink that made Penelope smile, which she hid behind her gloved hand. Her mother interceded, “My daughter means no harm.”

  “No,” the Earl said with a nod. “It was an honest mistake. The Duke of Trenton and I grew up together, so our families are quite close.”

  There was something about the way the man looked at Penelope that assured her that the chances of him choosing her as a bride were all but demolished. Penelope gave the man a pleasant smile.

  The Earl said, “Well, I must be off to talk to more of the guests. I do hope to talk to you ladies again.” He gave them both a deep bow before he swept away to the next knot of ladies.

  Penelope regarded the man’s retreat with amusement, but her amusement faded when she looked upon her mother’s dire face. Penelope swallowed and clasped her hands together in front of her. The Marchioness was eying her daughter as if deliberating some awful punishment to be delivered even in these brightly decorated halls.

  “What do you think you are doing?” Lady Winchester hissed in a low voice as she put her fan up in front of her face to hide her lips from those nearby.

  Penelope shifted uncomfortably, her blonde hair brushing the bare skin at her neck. “I do not know what you mean, Mother,” Penelope said as she often had as a young girl.

  Lady Winchester’s eyes narrowed at her only daughter. “You have been beh
aving most horribly,” the woman whispered.

  “I have not,” Penelope disputed as she smoothed her dress. It would not do to make a scene, and she certainly had no intention of drawing attention to them.

  Lady Winchester’s free hand clenched. “So you suddenly forgot everything you know in a single evening? You address the gentlemen improperly. You are too forward, or too shy. You bring up inappropriate things.” As Lady Winchester spoke, she seemed to be ticking off a list in her mind.

  Penelope sighed, “It is just nerves. I get all boggle-minded when someone asks me something, you know that.”

  “No,” Lady Winchester said with a shake of her head. “I believed that the first time, but I no longer hold that delusion. You are simply trying to make yourself unfit for marriage, and I cannot fathom as to why that would be.”

  Penelope unfurled her fan and brought it up to her face. “What is so wrong with not wanting to marry anyway?”

  “It simply is not done,” Lady Winchester insisted.

  Penelope blew air out her lips in a huff. “That is not true. Women have been made Baronesses in their own right. Why can I not also?”

  “Well, you are certainly strong-willed enough,” Lady Winchester said with distaste. “Do you forget that you are at a great disadvantage already?”

  Penelope grew silent. She knew that her mother was referring to the fact that Penelope had not been granted a voucher for Almack’s. Without it, she would not be eligible to attend the balls there, and that was where the most sought-after men and women would be.

  After a time, Penelope said, “That is not a blame to be laid at my feet. You act as if I went over and slapped the patronesses of the establishment personally.”

  “Of course I do not mean the fault lies with you, but it is still there,” Lady Winchester said as if to amend and soften her words.

  Penelope eyed her mother. The woman looked quite uncomfortable. Penelope had suspected that her family’s reputation or her father’s reputation perhaps had soured her chances of obtaining a voucher. It truly had not bothered Penelope, but she could see now how much it troubled her mother.

  “I am sorry to make you so sullen,” Penelope said in honesty. She reached over and touched her mother’s free hand with her own. The woman’s fingers folded around Penelope’s hand, and Penelope felt a tug on her heart. “I shall try to do better.”

  Lady Winchester gave her daughter a restrained smile. “I would be pleased if I believed that.”

  “You do not believe that I shall try and not make you sour at me?” Penelope asked, her hand still in her mother’s grasp.

  Lady Winchester eyed her daughter astutely. “This is not the first time you have set yourself forward in such a way, and I must assume that since you are doing so on purpose that it will continue. I do not, however, know why you would be doing such a thing.”

  “I told you,” Penelope reminded her mother.

  Lady Winchester sighed at her daughter. “You have to marry, Penelope. You have a duty to not only the family but to yourself.”

  “I will forgive myself,” Penelope assured her mother.

  Lady Winchester shook her head at her daughter. “You might. I doubt your father will indulge your whim in this instance.”

  “Must we talk about him,” Penelope said as she withdrew her hand from her mother’s grip.

  Lady Winchester sighed. “Why, of course, we shall talk about your father. What has gotten into you lately?”

  “Mother, are you truly happy with all of this?” Penelope asked as she turned her head back towards the woman.

  The Marchioness of Winchester was a beautiful woman, and many had told Penelope that she looked so much like her mother. Penelope did not see the resemblance between herself and her exquisite mother when she looked into the mirror.

  Lady Winchester said in a discreet tone, “Why would I not be happy to be presenting my lovely daughter to the world? Penelope, you can do so well for yourself.”

  There was an ache in her heart with her mother’s words. “Cannot I do well by myself? Why must I marry?”

  “Someone has to inherit the land and look after things once your father is gone,” Lady Winchester reminded her daughter.

  Penelope sighed. “And I as a woman cannot do those things.” Penelope finished the old sentiment. She had heard it enough to know it by heart.

  “And yet you persist in this childish game of yours,” Lady Winchester said in tones of disapproval. The woman lowered her voice as a tall man walked near them.

  Penelope’s eyes went to the man’s tailcoat and the dark ponytail of his hair that hung down the sombre blue of the coat’s material. Penelope shook her head “Other women have made their own path in this world. I can as well.”

  “And what of the lands and inheritance of the family?” Lady Winchester asked as she fanned herself lightly.

  Penelope noted the colour under her mother’s make-up. The woman was becoming quite vexed. Penelope said soothingly, “Perhaps we should take our leave before our sullen moods offend the host of this event.”

  Lady Winchester slapped her fan closed against the palm of her hand. “Very well,” Lady Winchester consented. She pressed her lips together and gave Penelope a stern look. “If I press you into staying, you might just offend someone beyond what I can repair.”

  “I would never,” Penelope said, but she could tell her mother was not listening. Penelope had chosen what she said carefully, despite what her mother might think. She knew well enough how to talk to these people, after all. It was one of the things her mother had impressed upon her so heavily.

  The murmur of voices around them made Penelope look around the room. The candles flickering gave the scene a surreality. There were knots of people here and there doing their best to entertain and bewitch each other. Beautiful ladies hid smiles behind fans as gentlemen hooked their thumbs in their overcoats and chuckled at the lovely picture the ladies before them made.

  How must it be to know that you can have whichever lady strikes your fancy? Penelope watched a tall man a few feet away who seemed to be sizing a potential group of ladies up in that way that men did. Penelope turned her face towards her mother again.

  Lady Winchester took in a breath as Penelope watched the woman calm herself. “Indeed, we should go before others catch wind of our disagreement and it just makes your social situation worse.”

  “I truly am sorry, Mother,” Penelope said. The very exasperation in the woman’s voice made Penelope feel as if she were once again six and failing to meet her exalted expectations.

  Lady Winchester waved off her daughter’s words with a subtle gesture of her wrist. “Let us not speak of this further. I shall go and find our host and explain our departure.”

  “What shall you say?” Penelope asked in curiosity.

  Lady Winchester said, “I will say simply that you are not feeling yourself. That should be suitably true.”

  ***

  Penelope shifted in her blue dress as she waited in the foyer of the home where the ball was taking place. The ruffles were not Penelope’s favourite, but her mother had insisted that Penelope looked quite enchanting in the ruffled fabric. Penelope’s fingers brushed over the ruffles that covered the lower half of her dress, and she sighed internally.

  Lady Winchester’s elegant form emerged from the ballroom and headed with purpose towards Penelope. Penelope drew herself up to her full height, which was still dwarfed by her mother’s 5’6” frame.

  A man intercepted Lady Winchester, and Penelope never saw a bit of frustration in her mother’s features. Lady Winchester dipped her head gracefully to the man whom she clearly knew.