Penelope

by Beaton, M. C.

  He set his mind to extracting himself from the magistrate’s company. Then there was a tedious period of time to be endured trying to escape from his hosts. Finally he managed to corner Mr. Jennings and ask that very surprised gentleman permission to pay his addresses to Penelope.

  “I’m not really sure,” said Mr. Jennings in his maddeningly slow and precise way. “Let us examine the case …”

  And the Earl answered his questions patiently while inside his angry soul screamed and consigned the whole of the legal profession to hell.

  “I think it would be best,” said Mr. Jennings finally, “if you called on Miss Vesey in the morning. I will tell her that your intentions are honorable and that I have given you my permission—for what it is worth—to pay your addresses.” He looked up at the Earl’s hard face and gave a little sigh. “However, my lord, if you will take the advice of an older man, I would suggest you look less angry when you go a-courting.”

  “I am not angry,” said the Earl between his teeth. “Only frustrated.”

  “Dear me!” exclaimed Mr. Jennings, quite shocked. “In your suit, I trust, and not in your passions.”

  “In both,” said the Earl grimly.

  “Dear me,” said Mr. Jennings again. “How free-spoken is the youth of today! Not that you are by any means a youth, my lord. In fat I would say you were considerably older than Miss Vesey. In fact…”

  “I am not in my dotage,” snapped the Earl.

  “Well, well, I did not say that. What a bad-tempered man you are, to be sure. Don’t look so toplofty, my lord. I realise my remarks might be construed as impertinent, but I assure you, I and my wife have come to love Miss Vesey very much and look on her as a daughter.”

  His lordship gave a faint sigh and then set himself to please. Nothing could come of antagonising Penelope’s employer. The Deltons observed the conversation from afar, wondering what on earth the Earl could find to amuse himself in such undistinguished company! And why had he said that he wished to speak to the Jenningses’ governess?

  The Earl duly presented himself at the Jenningses house at nine o’clock the following morning to be met by Mrs. Jennings, still wearing her nightcap and quite shocked that any gentlemen should call at such an early hour. He must wait until Penelope was dressed and prepared to see him.

  Mrs. Jennings knew that Penelope had finally fallen asleep at dawn after a restless night of worry. Mr. Jennings had decided not to tell Penelope of the Earl’s honorable intentions. She must make up her own mind when she saw him without anyone else influencing her, he had said. And Mrs. Jennings was determined that Penelope should have her beauty sleep before she faced the ordeal ahead of her for, in her heart, Mrs. Jennings was sure Penelope would refuse the haughty Earl.

  The Earl waited patiently for two hours in the sitting room, stretched out in an armchair in front of the fire. He finally closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  And that was how Penelope found him when she timidly opened the door.

  She crossed quietly to the armchair and stood looking down at him. He looked much younger asleep and somehow vulnerable. She stretched out her hand slowly and gently stroked the copper curls. His eyes flew open and he imprisoned her hand in a strong grasp.

  A strong current of attraction ran from one hand to the other until both were trembling. All the hates and doubts seemed to disappear like magic. He forgot about all the long speeches of love and desire he had so carefully rehearsed and got to his feet and pulled her urgently into his arms, kissing her until she was breathless.

  “We’ve been mad,” he murmured huskily. “Absolutely mad. I want you more than anything in the world, Penelope. Will you marry me?” He gave her a little shake. “You must marry me.”

  “But I am related to a murderess,” whispered Penelope. “You must think of your name.”

  “A pox on my name,” said the Earl. “Concern for the Hestleton name started all this mess. I am not asking you to marry me, Penelope. I am telling you that you are going to marry me. No other man is ever going to touch you. I’m jealous of everybody who even looks at you.”

  He drew her down on to a hard horsehair sofa covered in shiny leather. “What do you say?” he whispered intensely.

  “Oh, yes, Roger,” said Penelope thankfully, sinking into his arms. She gave a sudden giggle. “How do you know I am not a murderess too? I might put rat poison in your port.” Her hand flew to her mouth and her face blenched. “How can I joke about such things! Did I tell you of Aunt Augusta’s poor footman! She—she poisoned him. How shall I ever forget?”

  “Like this,” he whispered into her hair. He turned her mouth up to his and covered her lips in a long, long kiss which sent both their senses reeling.

  Penelope recovered enough to feel herself slipping from the shiny sofa onto the uncarpeted floor. She clutched wildly at the Earl’s shoulders and both of them landed on the floor with an undignified bump.

  “Now,” said the Earl, smiling wickedly into her eyes, “I have you just where I want you.”

  The frenzy of their lovemaking rose to fever pitch. “Why do women have these damned little buttons on their dresses?” murmured the Earl at one point, his voice sounding in his ears strangely unlike his own.

  Penelope smiled tantalisingly up into his eyes. “To stop making things too easy for the gentlemen, I suppose,” she giggled.

  “I shall persevere,” said the Earl, reaching his long fingers to the little buttons at the throat of her Kerseymere gown. “There is one, there is another … and another … and …”

  “MY LORD!”

  The Jenningses’ husband and wife stood in the doorway, rigid with shock.

  The guilty couple rose hurriedly to their feet.

  The Earl took Penelope’s hand in his own.

  “We are to be married in a month’s time,” he said to the horrified Jenningses. “I am taking Miss Vesey to Wyndham Court today. We shall be married from there.”

  “Such goings-on!” said Mrs. Jennings severely. “Miss Vesey is not going anywhere without being chaperoned and so I tell you. Mr. Jennings and I will be there to see Miss Vesey married as she should be, especially after your abandoned behavior, my lord.”

  “My Aunt Matilda is in residence and will be chaperone enough,” said the Earl coldly.

  “So you say,” replied Mrs. Jennings, equally coldly. “Mr. Jennings, tell the servants to make ready. You are having us as houseguests, my lord, whether you like it or not!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE EARL BEGAN to feel as if he had never been so closely guarded in his life. Everywhere he turned, there seemed to be a watchful eye.

  Aunt Matilda had confided to the Jenningses that she considered her nephew flighty. First the engagement was on, then it was off, then it was on again. For Penelope’s sake, the proprieties must be observed.

  Everywhere the Earl and Penelope went at Wyndham Court, a Jennings went too. Aunt Matilda had developed the unnerving habit of popping into Penelope’s bedroom at all hours of the night and running her fingers over the pillows to make sure that the bed only contained one body.

  Jane and Alice considered it great sport, a new exciting sort of game, and took turns to dog Penelope’s footsteps whenever she strayed from the house.

  But the guardians arose one morning to find the couple had fled and the Earl would not have been at all flattered to hear the discussion on his manners and morals which went on throughout the day.

  “I think it is quite shocking,” said Aunt Matilda, oblivious to warning looks from Mrs. Jennings who was afraid her daughters were becoming overtitillated by all this racy conversation. “I mean,” went on Aunt Matilda, “they are shortly to be married after all. But Roger was always very dangerous with regard to the female … er … sex. Now, I remember that little opera dancer he had in keeping …” She broke off and bit her lip.

  “Oh, do tell,” cried Jane and Alice, their eyes shining.

  “Yes, do tell,” remarked a mocking voice from the
doorway.

  All stared in amazement. The Earl was standing there with a radiant Penelope on his arm.

  He drew a piece of paper out of his pocket and threw it on the table.

  “Allow me to present you all with our marriage lines. We were married today by special license.

  “And now, if you will excuse me, my wife and I are very tired and would like to go to …”

  “Bed,” said Aunt Matilda in a shocked whisper while Penelope blushed red and stared at the floor in pretty confusion.

  “Exactly,” smiled the Earl. “And as we are very, very, very tired, we do not wish to be disturbed for days and days and days. Come, my dear!” He led the still blushing Penelope from the room, and there was a long silence after the doors had closed behind the happy couple.

  Mr. Jennings gave a self-conscious laugh. “They are married after all,” he said.

  “Why, so they are,” said Mrs. Jennings with a sudden smile, “and here we all are sitting round like a church meeting.”

  “It does change things,” said Aunt Matilda seriously. “It makes it all less … well, you know … embarrassing.

  “After all, one’s poor imagination does not follow them into the bedroom when they are married, don’t you think?”

  Jane and Alice giggled wildly.

  “Girls! Go to your rooms,” said Mrs. Jennings severely. Penelope was not setting a very good example for her impressionable daughters. Not one little bit!