Chapter 18
The carriage halted outside the Blackthorne Mansion.
Anne wriggled across the leather seat and the uniformed footman helped her descend from the carriage. A moment later she dived back in and hissed at Penelope.
“What is it?” Penelope asked, trying to peer out of the window.
Anne grabbed Penelope’s head and forced her to duck. “For years Dr Johnson has been badgering Grandfather to take some fresh air. Well, he has finally decided to take the good doctor’s advice. He is currently sitting in the garden, and you will have to walk past him to enter the house … You cannot walk past him, I will not have it. Stay in the carriage,” Anne ordered.
“But I am hot, Lady Anne. Besides, we don’t know how long Sir Henry is going to sit there. What if it is hours before he moves?”
“He won’t stay long,” Anne insisted.
“How can you possibly know that? The leather seats are already burning through my skirts and now my buttock—”
“Oh, alright then,” she huffed. “I will go engage Grandfather in conversation. Try and sneak by in five minutes. Oh, and remember to crouch really low and use the bushes to your advantage.”
Penelope waited for five minutes or at least what she hoped was five minutes and snuck out of the carriage. She tiptoed her way to the nearest bush and hid behind it. She parted the leaves and peeked out. Anne was standing right in front of Sir Henry and gesturing wildly.
If Penelope read Sir Henry’s expression correctly, then the old man seemed rather alarmed by his granddaughter’s enthusiasm. He was bending his entire form as far back as he possibly could from Lady Anne, and his eyes were darting around the garden anxiously.
Penelope felt a twinge of pity for Sir Henry. Lady Anne could be remarkably formidable, she thought, scampering away from the sweet briar and towards the rose bush.
The rose bush turned out to be sparse and thorny. It barely hid her from the view. She nervously glanced at Lady Anne, who was now putting on a fully-fledged one woman show for her grandfather. She seemed to be acting out a scene where she was a rider atop a horse wielding a whip. Sir Henry was gripping his chair, his eyes wide and a forgotten pipe hanging out of his mouth. Penelope dragged her eyes away from the spectacle and scanned the landscape. She found that the next decently sized bush was a good distance away from her. If Sir Henry had to spot her, then it would be now. She prepared herself for the dash when a hand clamped on her arm.
She found the duke smiling down at her. He was wearing a moustache.
“I am just trying to get to the house without being seen by Sir Henry.”
“Let me assist you, Miss Fairweather,” he replied, yanking her arm and pulling her away from the bushes and straight onto the path.
“Don’t, he is going to see me!”
“Exactly what I intend. Come along now,” he said cheerfully.
“But you promised your mother.”
“I had promised not to tell him about you. I am not telling him, I am showing him,” he said triumphantly.
“Miss Fairweather,” Sir Henry called across the garden.
Penelope pasted a smile on her face. She had wanted a reason to hate the duke and he had provided her with one. She walked across the lawn silently cursing him.
“You said that I will have a good motherin-law. How am I supposed to find one if you send me off to Finnshire?” Her breath hitched the moment the words came out of her mouth. What had happened right after he had said that hung heavy in the air.
He was quiet for a moment, his eyes avoiding her. When he spoke his tone was light, “I said you will have a good motherin-law and you will … in Finnshire.”
Penelope grumbled something rude under her breath making the duke chuckle.
The duke had left her with no choice. She would have to face Sir Henry. From the corner of her eye she noticed the dowager racing across the garden path. Penelope slowed down slightly to allow her time to reach them. Now all her hopes depended on the dowager’s ability to convince her father to let her stay on. Clenching her parasol in a deathly grip, she took a deep breath just before reaching the old man’s side.
“Sir Henry,” Penelope said curtsying.
“Miss Fairweather,” Sir Henry inclined his head.
Anne grabbed her brother’s arm and dug her nails in hard. “Grandfather informed me that you absolutely insisted that he sit out here at this very spot around this time because you had something special to show him. In a day you managed to do something that Dr Johnson could not do in fifteen years. What is so special about today, Charles?”
“So I did,” he replied pleased.
“Yes, what did you want to show him?” the dowager asked, joining the party.
“This,” the duke said, gesturing to Penelope.
Sir Henry, squinting his eyes, looked at the duke and then at Penelope. After a moment of contemplation, he beamed. “Something special is it, or should I say someone special? Congratulations, my boy. I think she is simply delightful. I remember how charming she looked at the dinner table that day. She wore the appropriate amount of underskirts, and after only one glass of wine she was foxed,” he chuckled. “What a wonderfully delicate constitution. True, her conversational skills are a bit lacking, but who needs a wife to speak to? At least she understands the importance of marriage. It is hard to find such a gem … If only I had been sixty years younger … When is the wedding?”
Aghast, the duke opened and closed his mouth like a fish.
Anne burst out laughing.
“I am not marrying her,” he roared.
“Then why is she special? You said she was special and you forced me to come and sit in this blasted heat because it was important. Your reasons better be worth it, boy. Now out with it. What is it you wanted to tell me?”
The duke stared at his grandfather in horror. He then turned a beseeching eye towards his mother. She shrugged her shoulders in response. He was prevented from answering when a coughing fit suddenly overtook Sir Henry.
They waited and waited and then waited some more for the fit to come to an end. And just when Penelope started becoming alarmed, all went quiet. It looked like Sir Henry had finally breathed his last. The duke gingerly stuck his finger under his grandfather’s nose to check.
Sir Henry snapped open his eyes and caught the duke’s finger between his teeth and bit down. Hard.
Sir Henry’s eyes waited for an answer. If the duke wanted his finger back, then he would have to come up with something good.
“Alright, alright, I am thinking about marrying her. I wanted your opinion but nothing is certain,” the duke babbled.
Sir Henry released his finger and smiled, “Well, then you have my blessings. The next time I leave Blackthorne Mansion it will be to attend your wedding to that girl.”
Thereafter, Sir Henry, flushed rosy from the sun and whistling a chipper tune, was carried back indoors.
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence the dowager spoke, “You are engaged to be married to Lady Lydia Snowly. Are you now also engaged to Miss Fairweather?”
“I am not. I couldn’t think of anything else to say to him. I thought he would never want to see her in Blackthorne again. How was I to know the daft man actually liked her? I am convinced Grandfather has gone over the edge, Mother.”
“No doubt of that, Charles. But now what will you do?” the dowager asked.
“Make Lydia wear a long opaque veil during the wedding. After the marriage Grandfather won’t be able to do much,” Anne suggested.
“I am sure Grandfather will forget about Miss Fairweather soon enough,” the duke replied confidently.
“I doubt that. After all, Miss Fairweather is going to be meeting him at dinner every day from now on,” Anne said gleefully.
“Fine, the veil it is,” he snapped, before storming off.
“Well, that’s that. At least you can join us for dinner now. It is a weight off my mind,” the dowager said pleased.
Penelope smiled and
nodded. Yet at the back of her mind was the knowledge that the duke would not give up. Every obstacle in his path was making him hate her presence in his home more and more. It was only a matter of time before the duke won. How could Miss Penelope Fairweather from a tiny village called Finnshire compete with Charles Radclyff, the Duke of Blackthorne?
***
Later that evening Penelope and Lady Anne stood outside Lady Virginia’s house staring at an ornate doorknob resembling a lion’s head.
“Do you remember everything Madame told you yesterday?” Lady Anne asked.
“Yes, Lady Anne,” Penelope replied, swallowing a lump of fear.
“Nothing will go wrong I hope?”
“I promise on my honour. No one will even notice my presence.”
“Good, then let us assume that this is your first social gathering and forget about whatever happened before.”
“Yes, Lady Anne,” she replied, bravely stepping forward towards the entrance.
“Miss Fairweather,” the formidable butler announced.
It was a small gathering with no more than forty people invited for the dinner party.
Lady Virginia hurried over to greet them.
“Miss Fairweather,” the duke introduced.
Penelope smiled and dipped in an elegant curtsey.
The hostess swiftly examined Penelope’s delicate and more importantly expensive silver gown and the genuine pearls woven through her hair. Her eyebrow rose in approval.
After a short but warm welcome, Lady Virginia departed.
“That was well done,” Anne praised.
“Thank you,” Penelope replied pleased. She had answered Lady Virginia’s questions in a demure and controlled manner. She was proud of herself and was feeling slightly more confident.
Fifteen minutes later, Penelope and Anne were back in the carriage being driven back to the Blackthorne Mansion.
“What happened?” the dowager asked when they reached home.
“Lady Virginia,” Anne said, “was wearing a beautiful gown. No doubt it was Madame’s creation.”
“It was a long wispy thing made of pink lace and chiffon that was gathered and pinned into place on one shoulder. The rest of the cloth was draped across the body ending in a long trail at the back that swept the floor,” Penelope added, her face bright red.
“Yes, but why are you back home so early?”
“Miss Fairweather was on her way to the refreshment table,” Anne said.
“Yes and …?” the dowager said impatiently.
“Lady Virginia was also on her way to the refreshment table,” Anne continued.
“Anne,” the dowager warned.
“Miss Fairweather stood on Lady Virginia’s trail. The cloth was delicately fastened by a single pearl brooch on the shoulder. It ripped, the cloth unravelled, and a passing gentleman quickly whipped out his coat and wrapped it around Lady Virginia. We could hardly stay after rendering the hostess almost naked.”
“Quite right,” the dowager muttered faintly.
The smelling salts and brandy were quickly called for.
Chapter 19
This was Penelope’s third social outing in London and they were at Lord Abbey’s home. She sighed in relief. Things up until now had gone smoothly. She had entered the drawing room, greeted the host, and then retired to the furthest corner of the room. She now stood next to a salmon pink marble pillar.
It was a good position from where she could discreetly watch all the new arrivals. Her eyes blazed in interest when Lady Lydia made a dramatic entrance wearing a sea green silk dress and a sapphire hued silk turban. Lady Lydia pinned her eyes on the duke and made her way towards him. A slight touch on Penelope’s arm distracted her from the sight.
“Lord Poyning is coming this way,” Anne whispered urgently.
“As is Lord Rivers,” Penelope replied, nervously watching the pair.
“Don’t worry, I won’t give you a chance to speak,” Anne said, patting her hair.
A moment later Lord Poyning and Lord Rivers arrived. Anne immediately engaged Lord Poyning in conversation.
Lord Rivers and Penelope were more than happy to let the two ramble on.
“What a wonderful coat,” Anne gushed.
Poyning preened.
Penelope sipped her wine and inwardly grimaced. The coat in question was velvet puce and it was positioned directly in front of her eyes. She looked away from the revolting garment and searched the room. She found who she was looking for— the duke. His superbly cut grey coat, she noted, was excellent and not at all offensive. He was absorbed in a conversation with a grey haired man.
She stared at him for some time until someone roughly shoved her from behind. She gasped, lurching on her feet. She quickly turned around, an automatic apology on her lips. But the woman who had pushed her was already making a speedy exit from the scene. All Penelope could see was the woman’s departing back.
Frowning thoughtfully, Penelope turned back around to find Lady Anne glaring at her. Bewildered, she glanced at Lord Poyning questioningly. Lord Poyning avoided her eyes, his hands busy scrubbing at a dark patch on his coat.
“You lurched and spilled wine on his beloved coat,” Lord Rivers remarked.
Penelope eyed her empty glass in horror. “I am so sorry, Lord Poyning. I will buy you a new coat. I am sure Madame Bellafraunde will assist me. Truly, I didn’t mean to …”
“Miss Fairweather, you have no need to apologise. I must find the hostess. She should have something for the stain,” Lord Poyning said, his eyes busy inspecting his coat.
“I think I spotted Lady Abbey near the gambling room. She was conversing with Miss Berkley,” Anne said. She then turned to Penelope and sent her a loaded look.
Penelope understood and meekly followed Anne towards the red satin curtains.
“How could you?” Anne asked furiously.
“But it wasn’t my fault. Not this time,” Penelope tried to explain.
“It is never your fault, is it, Miss Fairweather? No,” she said holding her hand up, “I don’t want to hear a single thing anymore. Please fetch my brother. I would like to go home. ”
“But …”
“We are leaving,” Anne said coldly.
The ride back home was conducted in silence with Anne inwardly raging and Penelope trying to come up with the right words to explain. The moment they entered the Blackthorne Mansion, Penelope barred Anne’s way.
“Lady Anne, I beg you, please listen to me,”
Anne tried to dodge Penelope by walking from the right to left and then back again. After pussyfooting for a few minutes and finding that Penelope was too quick for her, she finally gave up and said, “What do you have to tell me?”
Penelope eyed the duke standing next to them.
“So you have nothing to say in your defence? I thought as much,” Anne snapped, shaking off Penelope’s restraining arm.
Penelope ran after her and followed her into her bedroom.
“Lady Anne, I couldn’t tell you. Not in front of the duke. Lady Lydia pushed me and made me spill the wine.”
“Did she?”
“Yes, and she did it on purpose. My back was to the pillar and she came from behind and pushed me. It couldn’t have been an accident. It was a small gathering with plenty of room to walk without bumping into one another. I don’t understand why she did it, but she did. I am not lying ….”
“Do you swear it?”
“I do, I swear. Why would I do such a thing? Granted, I am clumsy, but this time it’s not my fault.”
Anne sat on the bed and moaned.
“Do you believe me?” Penelope asked worriedly.
“I do. I can believe that of Lady Lydia,” Anne said. At Penelope’s look, she further explained. “I am ashamed to admit that Lydia and I were friends once. I know her well and it is the sort of petty thing she would do. She enjoys embarrassing people she dislikes, either by word or deed. She doesn’t like you because my mother and I support you. And
a beautiful young unmarried woman living under the same roof as her fiancé is bound to make her nervous. She will do her best to scare you away. So yes, I do believe you.”
“Thank you,” Penelope said in relief.
Anne’s head shot up and she cried, “Why couldn’t you spill the wine on Lord Rivers? He was standing right next to Lord Poyning. This is the second time I have looked a fool in front of him and all because of you.”
“I am sorry. Don’t be angry, Lady Anne. Please give me a chance to make things alright.”
“And how will you do that?” came the sarcastic response.
“You like Lord Poyning, don’t you?” Penelope asked carefully.
Anne blushed and said, “We have been friends for two years.”
“Only friends? You were not so distraught when I tore Lady Virginia’s gown and that was a lot worse.”
Anne turned a darker shade of pink. She finally said, “Fine, I do like him, but I am not sure about his feelings.”
“Then leave it to me. I will make sure that Lord Edward Poyning falls madly in love with you.”
Anne eyed her sceptically.
“I have many faults, Lady Anne, but I am also creative. My schemes were the best in Finnshire. They always worked. I will have you married to him within three months.”
Anne thawed and she asked hopefully, “Truly?”
“I give you my word,” Penelope replied confidently.
Anne frowned mulling it over. “You will first inform me of your schemes?”
“Of course. Since you have to carry them out, you will have to know.”
“Hmm, I suppose I can always check any of your outlandish ideas. Two years of waiting and nothing. It is time for some desperate measures and you, Miss Fairweather, are a perfect accomplice. Since your arrival Mother has shown her hand more and more, refusing to let Charles have his way. She may allow us to go to Hyde Park and entertain suitors at home. Charles is too distracted with you around to notice what I am up to. You really annoy him, and I mean really, really annoy him. This may just work.”
“Now that we are agreed, I have a condition.”
“What?”
“You will call me Penelope.”
“Done, and you shall call me Anne.”
Love Regency Style Page 329
