by Renee Duke
“No,” Jack snapped, stepping back from her outstretched hand.
“I only—” Penelope began, but just then, Adrian came by, trailed by several young cousins and village children.
“Any of you kids fancy a kickabout outside?” he asked. “I’ve a football in the car.”
“Oh, yes, I will come,” said Zacharias.
“I also,” said Alina.
“And me,” said Jack. Though sports were usually anathema to him, he was eager to get away from Penelope.
Colby, Amy, Neeta, and Ravi accepted the invitation too.
“Are you all going to go off on me?” Penelope demanded before Paige and Dane could do the same. “That’s very rude.”
“You can come as well,” Adrian told her, not sounding enthusiastic.
Penelope looked horrified. “Well-bred young ladies do not do ‘kickabouts’. And having been raised properly, they are not so unmannerly as to leave in the middle of a conversation, either.”
Paige gritted her teeth. She had no desire to go on talking to Penelope, but felt inexplicably compelled to show her she had been raised properly. “I’ll stay.”
“Me too,” said Dane. He thought he would probably regret it, but didn’t want Paige to have to endure Penelope on her own.
The others had no such compunctions.
“I believe Adrian once wanted to play that ridiculous game professionally,” Penelope said after they’d gone. “His parents must have been very relieved when he came to his senses and went to university.”
“He got a couple of bad injuries and had to give up the idea,” Dane informed her. “But if he hadn’t, I’m sure Uncle Trevor and Auntie Maxine wouldn’t have minded.”
“Of course they would. The Hollingsworth name is practically synonymous with scholarly pursuits.”
“You have a real thing about names, don’t you,” Paige rejoined. “What’s with that?”
“Well, it might not matter to the lower classes, but for people holding respected positions in society, family aims and reputations must come before personal aspirations. They must uphold standards and try to add even greater distinction to an illustrious name.”
“And greater wealth too,” said Paige. “Way I heard it, your great-great-grandfather only took on the Wolverton name so his kid could try and lay claim to some of the Wolverton fortune.”
“Why shouldn’t he? He is Grantie’s nephew.”
“And our great-grandmother is her niece. Maybe you could improve your odds by marrying one of Great-Gran’s descendants. Chris, for instance. He’s her oldest son’s oldest grandson.”
Penelope smiled. “My father suggested that when I was born.” Then she scowled. “Christopher’s parents and grandparents were not receptive to the idea.”
I’ll bet they weren’t, thought Paige, mentally envisioning the scene.
“He’s too old for you anyway,” said Dane.
“A nine-year difference isn’t so much once people are grown. Actually, I think he might be a bit interested in me already.”
“You’re delusional,” said Paige, who had heard Chris call Penelope ‘that ghastly child’ only the day before. “He’s not interested, and Grantie will leave her fortune to whomsoever she pleases. It’s not like anyone in the family is destitute, least of all your bunch. Her heir could be anyone from Great-Gran down to Cousin Rupert’s twins.”
“Yes, I suppose it could.” Penelope looked thoughtful. “She seems quite fond of you, Dane,” she added after a moment.
Paige didn’t care for the speculative look in Penelope’s eye. “Everyone likes Dane. It doesn’t mean a thing. So don’t bother trying to get your claws into him. He isn’t interested either. And even if he was, trust me, no amount of money would be worth having me as a sister-in-law.”
Dane grinned. “That’s right. Of course, Grantie Etta likes Jack, too. And he doesn’t have any sisters.”
Penelope’s lip curled. “Jack is not of the Wolverton line. Everyone knows he’s adopted.”
“So what?” Paige’s face darkened. “He’s as much a Wolverton as any of us. Adopted means, ‘as born to’. Look it up.”
“His blood line is still that of people with no connection to us,” said Penelope, tossing her head. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s just—Oohhh!” The squeal was the result of having the contents of a can of pop spilled over her head by Mr. Marchand, who had just come up behind them.
“Oops,” said Mr. Marchand. “Sorry, Penny. Didn’t notice you there. Good thing it’s a warm day. If you go and run around outside, you should dry off in no time.”
Instead, Penelope stomped off and went to join her great-grandparents.
“Dad,” Paige said, “she—”
“I know, I know. Good thing Jack wasn’t around. That is one unpleasant little … Never mind. I’m not supposed to use that kind of language in front of you kids.”
“If you’re referring to the word that refers to a female dog, several people have already called her that in front of us,” said Dane.
“I don’t doubt it. Not really her fault, though. She’s grown up hearing that kind of stuff from her parents. I guess they don’t know that true blood lines flow through hearts, not veins.”
“That sounds like something Cousin Ophelia would say,” Paige commented.
“Uh, yeah. I guess it does. I’ve obviously spent too much time in her company lately. She sometimes gets things right, though.”
His daughter agreed. “That’s for sure. Jack’s a whole lot closer to my heart than Penelope will ever be.”
At that very moment, Jack himself burst into the hall.
“Grantie’s coming!” he shouted.
Chapter Ten
The fanfare for the guest of honour’s entrance was provided by Christopher Hollingsworth, who had been standing by the door, trumpet in hand, for the last ten minutes. As a classical music student, he favoured the cello, but played several instruments well.
Grantie Etta acknowledged him with a gracious nod. As she did Uncle Ewan, who then took over and, with bagpipes skirling, led her to her seat. Walking as regally as leaning on a cane would allow, she inclined her head again and again in response to her family and friends’ cheers and applause.
The children who had been playing outside slipped in behind her. Most went to join their parents, but Colby and Amy reclaimed their positions beside Paige and Dane.
As soon as Grantie Etta got to her elaborately bedecked throne-chair, Uncle Ewan stopped playing, and Uncle Trevor handed her a microphone.
“Speech, Grantie, speech.”
Grantie Etta smiled. “Really? Well, I do have one prepared. Oh, dear, I’ve left it in the car.”
“I’ll fetch it for you,” said Jack.
“Thank you, dear. It’s on the back seat.”
He hurried out. In a response to a nod from Cousin Percy, Penelope followed him.
“How come she’s going too?” Amy asked Paige.
“I don’t know.” Paige frowned. “I don’t like it. Come on, Dane.”
Outside, Grantie Etta’s Rolls Royce was parked directly in front of the hall. Emerging from the back seat, speech in hand, Jack suddenly found himself pinned against the car by a surprisingly strong Penelope, who began tugging at the medallion.
“Get off,” he cried, dropping the speech, and taking hold of the medallion’s chain with both hands. “You’re not having it.”
“Stay still,” she hissed. “I just want to take a look.”
When he continued to struggle, she punched him hard enough to make him let go of the medallion and double over, clutching his stomach.
“Hah!” she said triumphantly.
She twisted the medallion free and headed for the hall, but changed direction when she saw Paige and Dane hurtle out of it, with Colby and Amy close behind them.
Seeing the medallion in Penelope’s hand, Dane raced forward and managed to get ahead of her as she made for a side entrance. Hampered by a reluctance to get into
a physical tussle with a girl, he threw out his arms to block her path instead of trying to grab hold of her.
She veered away, only to find Colby ahead of her. Like Dane, he stopped and threw out his arms. Her face filled with fury, Penelope whirled round and tried to strike away from the hall, but by then Paige had reached her. Not being bound by the boys-don’t-hit-girls edict, she twisted Penelope’s arm in such a way that the medallion fell from her grasp and was scooped up by Amy.
Penelope emitted a long, piercing, scream containing far more rage than pain.
“Give it back to me!” she screeched at Amy. “We have as much right to that medallion as they do.”
“No way,” said Amy, putting it behind her back.
Penelope tried to lunge at her, but found she was unable to break Paige’s hold. She screamed again, which was unnecessary, since people were now pouring out of the hall.
“You there, let go of my daughter,” Cousin Bentley shouted.
Paige did so.
“How dare you accost her in such a fashion,” Cousin Zenobia raged as Penelope threw herself into her arms, and began to wail for the benefit of the two dozen or so adults now clustered around the children, with more looking on curiously from the hall entrance.
“She accosted Jack first,” said Paige, pointing to him. Though still a bit winded, he was making his way toward them, accompanied by his parents. Ignoring the other scene in play, they had gone straight to him.
“And she took something from him,” said Dane. “We were just trying to get it back.”
“Oh, were you? Simply asking didn’t occur to you, I suppose.” Cousin Zenobia turned to Mr. and Mrs. Marchand. “You heard your children admit to hurting my Penelope. Aren’t you going to do anything about it?”
“Depends,” said Mr. Marchand. “At least she and Paige are an even match. From the looks of it, Penelope hurt my nephew, who is considerably smaller than her. You planning to do anything about that?”
“I didn’t touch him,” Penelope sobbed. “He…he’s faking.”
“Why would he do that?” Uncle Gareth inquired coldly.
“To get me in trouble. They…they were being mean to me. All of them.”
“We were not,” Dane said indignantly.
“We’d only just got out here when she grabbed that medal thing off Jack and made a run for it,” Colby told the group at large.
“I just wanted have a look at it. They…they wouldn’t let me,” Penelope gulped, tears streaming down her face. “Jack took it off and… and started taunting me with it. He said that Amy could hold it, but I couldn’t. They were all dancing around me, and laughing. I got upset and ran away…and…and they chased me. When they caught me, Paige twisted my arm. I’m…I’m sorry to be such a cry-baby, but, ooh, it did hurt, Mater.”
“She’s lying!” Paige cried.
“Darn right she is,” Colby declared.
“Penelope never lies,” said Cousin Zenobia. “She’s been too well brought up for that. These others obviously haven’t.”
“Whoa, now, no one calls my son a liar,” said Cousin Mitch, putting his hands on Colby’s shoulders. “None of them were out here long enough for all that to have gone down.”
“No, they weren’t,” Mrs. Marchand agreed. “So if anyone’s telling lies, it’s this little miss.”
Paige nodded vigorously. “She is. She hurt Jack and took off with the medallion.”
“Pshaw,” said Cousin Zenobia. “What would she want with some other child’s cheap trinket?”
“Cheap? Hardly,” said an unfamiliar middle-aged man to whom Amy was showing it. “It’s extremely valuable. It’s a Keeper Piece. I should know. I’ve just had two stolen from me.” Fingering it gently, he regarded Penelope through narrowed eyes.
“Are you insinuating she had something to do with that, Pickering?” Cousin Willoughby demanded. “She’s only twelve years old.”
“Yes, well, I’m sure we’ve all heard of juveniles being trained to perform such deeds, and then place the loot into more experienced hands,” said the man now identified as Sir Magnus Pickering. “Just because all she had to do to get this one was hit a little boy doesn’t mean she isn’t capable of burglary as well. Perhaps this is the lead the police have been looking for.”
“Why you—”
“What’s all this, then?” said an authoritative voice behind them. “Assault and attempted robbery?”
Everyone turned to see a stern-faced Constable Watson, his wife and child beside him.
“Of course not,” growled Cousin Percy, hobbling up. “Nothing for you to become involved with, Constable. Children’s squabble. Nothing more.”
“But Pater—,” Cousin Willoughby began.
“It’s nothing, Willoughby. Drop it. You, too, Zenobia,” he added, seeing her about to speak.
The ugly look he gave them caused them to subside.
“Is that the way of it?” asked Constable Watson, addressing the children. “Bit of a quarrel that got out of hand?”
Penelope glanced apprehensively at her great-grandfather. “Yes,” she mumbled.
Paige, Dane, and Jack all looked at Grantie Etta, who had also just arrived on the scene, supported by both Uncle Edmond and her stick. The old lady gave a barely perceptible nod.
“I guess so,” said Paige.
“There, what did I tell you?” barked Cousin Percy. “Tempest in a teacup.”
“To us, maybe, but such disagreements can be very upsetting for children,” Cousin Ophelia said earnestly. “Their emotional distress should not be dismissed as a triviality. Negative vibes stemming from even a minor altercation can cause physical distress as well, especially in the more sensitive ones. Penelope there looks very pale. I think that might be happening with her. Do you feel like throwing up, honey?”
Penelope looked like she did, but shook her head.
“No? Well, you should still probably go lie down for a while.”
Cousin Zenobia agreed. “Yes, she should. She is very sensitive.”
“There’s nowhere for her to lie down around here,” said Grantie Etta. “I would suggest taking her back to your hotel. Or home.”
Cousin Percy scowled. “I doubt that will be necessary.”
“Oh, I think it is. I do appreciate your taking the time to come to my party, Percy, but I wouldn’t want Penelope to suffer because of some misplaced sense of duty. As her mother said, she’s sensitive. It will take her a while to get over this, and being around the other children won’t help. There might even be another…childish misunderstanding. I’m sure none of us would want that.” She fixed him with an intimidating stare.
“No. We wouldn’t,” Cousin Percy said evenly. “Get the car, Bentley.”
“Get the car? But we came to—” Bentley received the same look the others had and trailed off. “Yes, Grand-Pater.”
“Are we going back to the party now?” Rosie Watson inquired, as Bentley went to get his car and people started moving toward the hall.
“I think so, love.” Her father nodded approvingly as Amy returned the medallion to Jack. “Everything seems to be sorted.
“Good. It’s my birthday too,” she announced proudly. “But I’m having my party tomorrow because I’m only five, and Auntie Rosie is one hundred and five, and that’s really, really special. She’s my godmother and I was named for her. Her whole name is Rosetta Sarra Wolverton, and mine is Rosetta Samara Watson. She says that means our initials are the same and I can have all her monoragranamed things one day.”
“Monogrammed,” her embarrassed mother corrected.
Grantie Etta laughed. “And so you shall, my dear. After all, what use would trifles like silk handkerchiefs, an antique music box, and a solid silver dressing table set emblazoned with RSW be to anyone else?”
As she turned to go back into the hall, it gave her considerable pleasure to note that the little girl’s innocent statement, and her own response, had caused the Wolverton-Hernes to look even more sour-faced tha
n they already were.
Sir Magnus went with her, matching his stride to her slower one. “How can you possibly let that boy walk around wearing your Keeper Piece, Rosetta? Height of folly. Especially in view of what’s been going on with them. The next incident might be more than a nursery spat. If that’s all this was. Personally, I have my doubts. I find that girl’s actions highly suspicious.”
“So do I,” Granddad responded fervently. “I’d have someone follow up on it, if I were you.”
After Jack had retrieved Grantie’s speech, the children headed for the hall too.
“Thanks for your help,” Paige said to Colby and Amy. “You backed us up without even knowing what was going on.”
Colby shrugged, “Dad’s always told us, when someone’s in trouble, you don’t ask questions, you just get in there and help. That Penelope’s a real piece of work, isn’t she?”
“Do you think anyone believed her?” asked Amy.
“No one who knows her, dear,” said Cousin Anna. She had only come out as far as the door and was still standing at it, looking their way. “And don’t worry about her getting away with it. Her great-grandfather is berating her quite severely.” She frowned. “But more because she bungled something than because she hit Jack.”
She nodded toward the parking lot entrance, where Penelope and her great-grandparents had just got into the back seat of Cousin Bentley’s car. There, Cousin Percy did appear to be rebuking Penelope, whose tears were now probably quite genuine.
“He does seem awful mad,” Colby agreed as they drove off. “But how could you tell what he was saying once he was in the car?”
“By reading his lips, right Cousin Anna?” said Jack. “Jolly useful skill at times I should think. I must get you to teach me. What was he saying?”
“Nothing pleasant. He told her she’d made a mess of things. Said she was only supposed to confirm you had the medallion, not draw attention to their interest in it. What she did was stupid, and irresponsible, and could make things difficult for them. Whatever that means. Doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense, but angry people don’t always make sense. Shall we go in?”
