by Rose Lerner
“He hates Mr. Macaulay.”
It was childish, but she smiled. “I know.”
It was a horrid, hot day. As Penelope walked home from a visit to the dressmaker’s, everything seemed malevolent and too bright. She went by a wheat field and saw workers standing in tight knots, talking in low voices. When she passed, they quieted and watched her, their faces blank and sullen. She thought of Sir Jasper and his fears of revolution. These men had rioted before. Penelope hugged her packages to her chest and walked faster.
In the entrance hall at the Grange, she found Nev by the silver salver of mail, staring at the newspaper. Her heart leapt into her throat without her quite knowing why. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“There’s been a massacre at Manchester.” Nev’s face twisted. “Listen to this: ‘The local troops, it is said, behaved with great alacrity. The consternation and dismay which spread among the immense crowd collected cannot be conceived. The multitude was composed of a large proportion of females. The prancing of cavalry, and the active use of the saber among them, created a dreadful sense of confusion, and we may add of carnage. By the accounts received through the mail, no less than eighty or a hundred persons are wounded, and eight killed-’ ” He broke off. “There’s hardly anything else. They hadn’t got their correspondent’s article yet when the paper went to press. God knows what really happened.”
Penelope skimmed the brief article. Edward had been right; the yeomanry had begun the bloodshed.
She tried not to think about it as she dressed for Sir Jasper’s party. She tried to think about her hair and her jewels; she had to be a credit to Nev. But as she clasped the jet around her neck, she saw only Agnes Cusher’s exhausted scowl and Sir Jasper’s frightened, furious face.
She came down the stairs still brooding. Nev and Edward were waiting, each looking preoccupied and uncomfortable. They both moved forward, and then Edward hesitated and fell back, letting Nev take her hand.
“What’s wrong, sweet? You look fagged to death.”
She tried to glare at him, but really she just wished Edward weren’t there and that they didn’t have to go to the party, so she could curl against his side and tell him everything. She opened her mouth to at least tell him about Sir Jasper’s strange behavior the day before.
“Don’t listen to him,” Edward said loyally. “You look perfectly elegant.”
She pulled herself together with an effort. “Thank you, Edward. I’m all right, Nev, truly. It’s just been a difficult week.”
Penelope was dreading seeing Louisa, and it was clear from Nev’s expression that he was too. What new histrionics would they be subjected to this time? But they were pleasantly surprised by the reality; when Louisa climbed into the carriage, she looked radiant. “Thank you so much for the new dress, Nate. I hadn’t realized how tired I was of black!”
Penelope wondered, blinking, if that could really be all. She had never seen Louisa in any color but black; the girl was striking even so, but there was no doubt mourning had subdued her, washing out her already pale complexion. Now, in white with gray ribbons, she glowed. At Penelope’s suggestion, Nev had hinted to his mother that perhaps Louisa needed some diversion, and that she could not dance with Sir Jasper if she were kept in full mourning.
“Mama says I can even dance two or three dances!” Louisa said. Penelope did not know what Nev would do if she danced them all with Mr. Garrett.
However, no one was dancing when they arrived. Instead they were talking in tight knots, looking worried and angry. Penelope was reminded of the laborers at Loweston.
Sir Jasper rushed over as soon as they entered, barely even looking at Louisa. “Bedlow, we’ve got to talk. The people in this district are on the verge of a riot, and we have no yeomanry here we can call out. The two of us must do something to maintain order. Perhaps if we were to shut down the tavern for a few weeks and-”
“Yes,” Louisa broke in, her voice rising, “it really is a shame we can’t have drunken louts with sabers ride down our tenants and kill them! How can you-”
“Louisa.” Nev put a hand on his sister’s arm. “I believe Sir Jasper was speaking to me. However, I must agree with my sister, Sir Jasper, that I hardly find it a matter for regret that we are in no danger of the sort of atrocity that occurred in Manchester. Perhaps if you were to consider granting bail for the men accused of poaching, our laborers would feel less wronged and-”
Sir Jasper was vibrating with anger. “I can be silent no longer. Lord Bedlow, you are allowing your judgment to be suborned by a woman. I understand that given her background, your wife may feel a natural sympathy for these lowly folk, but now is not the time to allow sentiment to-”
Penelope could not even feel very affronted; she was too amazed by Sir Jasper’s breach of good manners.
Nev blinked. “Sir Jasper,” he said amiably, “though I hardly like to draw such a strong conclusion on my own, I think you just insulted my wife.”
Penelope felt at once mortified and ridiculously grateful. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to, Nev,” she said-the party would be awful enough without out-and-out violence-but she couldn’t help favoring Sir Jasper with a triumphantly gracious smile.
Nev smiled too, a silly-ass smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, there you go. You know, Sir Jasper, I think you may have the right of it; my wife is far too softhearted. Revenge is so much more satisfying than mercy, don’t you know. But perhaps justice is somewhere in between.”
Sir Jasper nodded stiffly. “My apologies. I do not know what came over me.”
“Being a complete bastard?” Louisa whispered in her ear, and Penelope had to choke back a nervous giggle.
Sir Jasper strode away, and a few moments later the band struck up. Penelope remembered her earlier fears that Louisa would make a fool of herself with Mr. Garrett, but she was soon forced to admit that her suspicions had been unjust. Far from trying to talk alone with Mr. Garrett, Louisa danced attendance on Lady Bedlow, showing none of her usual impatience when Lady Bedlow sent her running back and forth to the refreshments table for lobster patties, and then a glass of punch when the patties turned out to be distressingly salty, and some tartlets, and another glass of punch because the tartlets were too dry. In between, the girl was very hot on the subject of the confrontation at St. Peter’s Fields, but Penelope could hardly blame her for that.
However, a party of young gentry could not be distracted by politics forever. Soon Penelope found herself sitting between Nev and Edward and watching couples turn about the floor.
Conversation lagged; she realized she was exhausted. “I don’t think I’ve eaten anything today,” she said, surprised.
Edward frowned, but it was Nev who burst out crossly, “No wonder you look so awful! For heaven’s sake, Penelope, you’ve got to take care of yourself.”
Her apologetic smile turned into an embarrassed grimace as her stomach rumbled. “I don’t know how it happened. But I don’t imagine I’ll starve from going without food for one day.”
“I don’t intend to find out,” he growled, and stalked off toward the buffet.
“But Nev, I don’t-” It was too late; he was gone. Penelope groaned inwardly. She hated eating from buffets, holding a plate in her lap and trying not to get crumbs everywhere. It was impossible to cut things into bite-sized pieces. At their first meeting, she had worried about how she would eat the hors d’oeuvres Nev gave her.
“He shouldn’t talk to you that way,” Edward said.
She sighed. “He’s just worried about me.”
“So am I, but you don’t catch me-” He stopped and drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Penelope, I oughtn’t to let my temper get the better of me.”
It was hard to believe she had once considered making a snappish remark “letting her temper get the better of her.” Now she spent half her time afraid she would start screaming and not know how to stop. She thought of those vicious Hogarth engravings and the cold little note that came with th
em. Edward might be happier if he did let his temper get the better of him once in a while. It would be like the relief valves on the great boiling tanks at the brewery that let out air and steam so the tanks didn’t explode. “It’s all right. I know you’re worried about me too.”
He took her hand, and she didn’t know how to take it back. He leaned closer. “What I said, two nights ago. You never gave me an answer. Penelope, I-”
“Here,” Nev’s voice said furiously, and a plate of food appeared in front of her. “Take it.” Edward let go of her hand, and she took the plate. Nev handed a glass to Edward. “Here’s her punch. Make sure she eats.” He turned on his heel and walked away.
Penelope’s heart sank. Then she looked at the plate and almost couldn’t bear it. He had cut everything into bite-sized pieces for her.
She wanted to get up and go after him-but everyone would stare, and she would have to abandon Edward, and there was already so much gossip. She picked up a fork and speared a tiny piece of pie, but when she brought it to her mouth she almost gagged. She loved nutmeg, but somehow today the smell repulsed her. She set the plate down and took the glass of punch from Edward.
Nev stood by the window, watching the sun go down and hating Edward Macaulay. How dare he hold Penelope’s hands and speak into Penelope’s ear that way? Penelope was Nev’s wife, and Macaulay had no right.
Nev snorted at his own self-righteousness. He forced himself to dwell on Penelope’s life if she had married Edward. She would be respected; her mother-in-law and neighbors would not be always turning up their noses at her behind her back. She would not be worrying about money. She would not be fretting herself into an early grave over poachers and blackmailers and riots and snobbish neighbors and indiscreet sisters-in-law.
She looked so tired. He looked over to see if she was eating. She was sitting alone, fanning her heated face. It really was very close in the room. He could see that her plate lay nearly untouched in her lap, and he almost went to her; but Macaulay appeared with another glass of punch, and Nev stayed by the window.
At least Louisa seemed to be trying to put her Cheltenham tragedy behind her. She was laughing and dancing with one of Sir Jasper’s friends, looking not at all as if the day before she had been on the verge of a hysterical scene at a picnic. She had been so good all evening. Nev felt something loosen in his chest; Louisa was the darling little sister he remembered again. She didn’t hate him. All that had been wrong with her was a touch of the blue devils. He could still fix this.
If Percy left the neighborhood, she would forget him quick enough. If only Sir Jasper had not clumsily tried to be generous and invited Thirkell.
Thirkell was talking to his cousin across the room, and it occurred to Nev that he could still appeal to Thirkell for help. Thirkell might be angry with him, but surely he would see reason for Louisa’s sake.
He made his way around the dance floor. “Thirkell, Miss Lovelace.” He bowed over Cousin Harriet’s hand. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
Thirkell became very preoccupied with his fob. “Evening, Nev.” Nev’s heart sank.
Harriet smiled at him. “Of course you’re not intruding. I was about to take myself off anyway. I’m engaged to Mr. Avery for the next dance and I want to get a glass of punch first.”
“Try the lemonade instead,” Thirkell told her.
“But I like punch.”
“It’s not very good punch.”
Nev wasn’t listening. He remembered, suddenly, the last time he had spoken to Harriet. The three of them had been supposed to lend Harriet countenance, and instead he had engaged her for two dances and then run off without dancing them. “Miss Lovelace, I-I just wanted to tell you that I’m very sorry for my shabby behavior, when we met. I am ashamed to remember it.”
She blushed and smiled at him. “I was very angry at the time, but I assure you I’d quite forgotten. That was the night you met Lady Bedlow, wasn’t it? I was glad just to be there. We all thought it was so romantic, how you picked her out of the crowd without knowing who she was and then married her so soon afterward.”
Nev was aware that this was the most charitable interpretation possible of his and Penelope’s abbreviated courtship. He wished even more that he had not been so thoughtless. “I wish I could dance, so that I might make it up to you tonight.”
She had a very sweet smile. “All my dances are taken.”
He nodded and watched her go. “She’s not a wallflower now.”
“No,” Thirkell said. “I knew she just needed a little boost.”
“Thirkell, the last time I saw you-”
“Didn’t think you’d mind if I was just staying in the neighborhood,” Thirkell said, an edge in his voice. “I wanted to see Percy.”
It hurt, though Nev knew he had no right to feel that way. “That wasn’t what I wanted to say. I’ve missed you. I-I was an ass. I’m sorry.” He could no longer remember what all the fuss had been. He had been afraid they would drag him into expensive dares and brandy and cards and horse races. When had he thought he would find the time? It was easy to be frugal. It would be beyond him, now, to spend a hundred pounds on a wager, knowing what it would buy. No, he had failed in other ways, bigger ways, ways he could not even have imagined then. His grand gesture seemed childish and small.
He wondered, if he had been less absolute-if he had not been so harsh to Percy-if Percy would have been more reluctant to carry on with Louisa.
To Nev’s surprise, his apology rendered Thirkell even more uncomfortable. “I-er-don’t give it another thought.” But it was several seconds before he raised his head and met Nev’s eyes. “I’ve missed you too, Nev. I wish it could be the three of us again, like it’s always been. I don’t see why it can’t be.”
“God, so do I. But-Thirkell, did Percy tell you why I dismissed him?”
“Percy’s been your best friend since you were eight,” Thirkell said, not answering, by which Nev assumed that he had. “You ought to patch it up with him.”
“I’d like to. But my sister has to come first. Come on, Thirkell, you know Louisa and her enthusiasms.”
“They generally seem to last. How long has she been mad for pirates, now?”
That was true, and yet…“Louisa could never bear an unkind word from anybody,” Nev said, low and intent. “How will she feel when she’s ostracized by everyone?”
Thirkell bit his lip. Nev was about to follow up his advantage when Macaulay appeared at his elbow, frowning. “I think Lady Bedlow may be ill. She’s acting feverish.”
Seventeen
“What?” Nev didn’t wait for an answer. He crossed the room and knelt beside Penelope. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”
She smiled mistily at him. “Nev. You came back.”
Definitely not typical Penelope. He drew in a deep breath and tried to think. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss on her forehead like his mother used to do when he was a child. Her skin didn’t feel hot. “Do you feel sick?”
“Not anymore. Please don’t be cross with me, Nev. I tried to eat, I just couldn’t. Thank you for cutting my food for me.” She smiled at him again and reached for his hand. It took her a couple of tries to grab it.
Nev was so relieved he almost laughed out loud. If it had been anyone but Penelope, he would have realized instantly. “How many glasses of punch did you have, Penny?”
She blinked several times. “Just two.”
Nev frowned. That shouldn’t have been enough to get her foxed, even on an empty stomach. Just then Louisa tapped his shoulder, looking worried. “Mama’s falling asleep on her feet, Nev. Do you think she’s coming down with something?”
Nev picked up Penelope’s near-empty glass and drained it. Sure enough, it tasted faintly of brandy. “Someone’s spiked the punch,” he said disgustedly, getting to his feet. “You know Mama always falls straight asleep if she has more than half a glass of wine.”
“Am I foxed, Nev?” Penelope asked.
“I think you are. W
ho on earth would-” Nev groaned; Thirkell had told Harriet to drink lemonade. Thirkell had followed him to the couch where Penelope was sitting; Nev turned to him. “Did the two of you really spike the punch?”
Thirkell tugged at his collar, an abject look of guilt on his face.
“Why?”
“Because we were bored,” Percy said easily, walking up. “Now I’m unemployed I have to think of some way to amuse myself. Time was you would have thought it a great joke too.”
“Mr. Garrett, I think I’m foxed,” Penelope said. “I’ve never been foxed before. I think I like it.”
Percy blinked. “Er. Sorry, Nev.”
“And my mother, Percy? For God’s sake, we’re not fifteen anymore.” Maybe he had been right about the pair of them all along.
“Please don’t be cross, Nev.” Penelope tugged at his waistcoat pocket.
He couldn’t help smiling at her. Her answering smile was blinding and uncomplicated and he wanted to kiss her. “I’m not cross at you, sweet.”
They had been standing in a knot for long enough to draw attention. Sir Jasper walked up. “Is everything all right?”
Nev didn’t have time to hold a grudge against Sir Jasper at the moment. “Someone spiked the punch. You should probably make an announcement before all the dowagers are three sheets to the wind.”
Sir Jasper looked rather amused. “Oh, dear. I suppose I’d better. I do apologize. I hope Lady Bedlow has not been too affected.” His gaze slid to Penelope, who still had a hand in Nev’s pocket.
“Yes, I’m drunk,” she told him. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me how vulgar I am. Ah, how this must remind me of my childhood at the brewery!”
There was a stunned silence, during which Nev realized that if he didn’t get Penelope out of there right away, she would never, ever forgive him.
He turned to Sir Jasper and was shocked by the intense dislike on their neighbor’s face as he looked at Penelope.
Feeling cold, Nev covered Penelope’s hand with his own and gave Sir Jasper his most charmingly apologetic smile. “Lady Bedlow forgot to eat dinner today, and I doubt she’s ever had brandy before. I’m sure she doesn’t have any idea what she’s saying. My mother is very susceptible as well-Louisa tells me she’s already falling asleep. We’d best be taking our leave.”
