Penelope (4 page)

“A
little
bad tempered?” Lady Radclyff smirked.

“I admit he
forgets his manners at times,” the dowager continued loudly, “and a
mother can go on lauding his virtues. What I am trying to say, my
dear, is that I apologise on his behalf.”

“You don’t have
to,” Penelope replied weakly.

In spite of the
dowager’s words, she could not forgive the duke. He may be
responsible for the livelihood of hundreds, if not thousands, but
that didn’t give him the right to be an ill-mannered brute.

He was, she
decided, thoroughly spoilt.

“As for you and
Lady Bathsheba, you will stay until the season is over. He may be
the duke, but I am his mother. You are here as my guest and on my
invitation. Please say you will stay.”

Penelope looked
at the dowager in dismay. She noticed the dowager had the same dark
blue eyes as her son. They were not as bright or intense, nor were
they harsh in expression. They were faded with age and gentle. Her
features were sweet and delicate, and in spite of the grey in her
hair, it was easy to see that the dowager had once been a very
beautiful woman.

The duke must
have inherited his harsh face and manners from his father, she
concluded.

As for staying
on, she was torn. True, she could not go back…Yet this was, after
all, the duke’s house, whatever his mother may say. To stay after
being so rudely dismissed was against her pride.

“The duke?” she
asked finally.

“We have a way
of convincing him. It is infallible, and we only use it when
circumstances are dire,” the dowager said smiling.

“If he agrees,
will you stay?” Lady Radclyff asked, anxiously.

“Will he
apologise?” Penelope asked, still undecided.

“Err … he never
apologises, but he will ask you to stay. Please take that as his
apology, I beg you,” Lady Radclyff said, pressing her hand.

“How will you
manage it?” Penelope asked, buying time.

The dowager
smiled and looked at Lady Radclyff meaningfully. Penelope, in turn,
looked at Lady Radclyff in confusion.

“Anne here is
our secret weapon.”

Penelope stared
at Lady Radclyff.

Anne Radclyff,
the duke’s sister, had inherited neither her mother’s sweet and
gentle disposition nor her good looks. Her eyes were a lighter blue
and her nose was a little too sharp. But like most accomplished
English ladies, she managed to disguise her faults under a garb of
elegance, powders and yards of flattering silk.

She looked back
at Penelope with a resolute expression.

“Secret
weapon?” Penelope asked in bewilderment.

“Yes, you see,
Anne here is Charles’ big weakness. He loves his sister more than
anything in the world. He is protective and over possessive, but if
Anne sheds a single tear, he does all he can to make her smile
again. I admit we use this to our advantage at times.”

“I will shed
bucket loads of tears for you, Miss Fairweather,” Lady Radclyff
said happily.

Penelope stared
at Lady Radclyff in wonder. She hadn’t thought the duke could love
someone so dearly.

“You can’t let
her tears go to waste, Miss Fairweather. Will you stay?”

Penelope took a
deep breath and let it out slowly. She finally smiled and nodded
uncertainly. She still didn’t think the duke would agree.

Lady Radclyff
clapped her hands in pleasure and hugged Penelope, “Oh, we will
have such fun.”

The dowager
smiled, “Now that’s settled, I want to know what happened to the
Falcon. Did he drop you all the way to our doorstep?”

“Yes, I invited
him to tea,” Penelope replied.

“To tea? Here?”
the dowager asked panicking. Having the duke overlook the presence
of a goat was one thing, but a highwayman?

“He declined,”
Penelope said sadly.

“How … how
unfortunate,” the dowager replied faintly.

“It is, isn’t
it?” Penelope said, and then frowned, “I have a question. What did
the duke mean when he said that he needs a fake moustache to meet
his grandfather?”

“Ah well, Miss
Fairweather, why don’t I show you to your rooms? I will tell you
all about my grandfather and instruct you in our household rules
and ways while you get ready for dinner. I am confident that you
will stay. Therefore, it is best that you know all our quirks as
soon as possible,” Lady Radclyff replied.

“Rules …
quirks?” Penelope asked nervously.

“Come, Miss
Fairweather, Lady Bathsheba. The instruction will take some time,”
Lady Radclyff said, getting up and fluffing her skirts.

Penelope stood
up and hastily curtsied to the dowager. She then raced after Lady
Radclyff, who was already at the door.

“Wait, I want
to know what rules. Why fake moustaches? Lady Radclyff … I may
change my mind about staying … Lady Radclyff!”

“Do you like
your room?” Lady Radclyff asked.

“I have a
canopy bed all to myself,” Penelope replied in awe.

“The bathing
chamber is through here,” Lady Radclyff said, opening a beautifully
painted French screen door.

Penelope poked
her head in to stare wide-eyed at the claw-footed ivory tub.

“There are
flowers in the bathroom too … fresh flowers.”

“I am fond of
flowers, so my brother makes sure that the house is always full of
blooms. He gets the housekeeper, Mrs Reed, to place them everywhere
I may chance to look.”

Penelope didn’t
want to remember the duke, so she quickly went towards the walnut
wardrobe and opened it. Someone had unpacked her travelling case,
and the few dresses she owned had been neatly folded and placed on
the shelves. They looked pathetic amongst all the luxury. The
curtains in the room would have made prettier dresses than the ones
she had brought.

“Now, tell me,
Lady Radclyff, what did the duke mean about the moustache?”

Lady Radclyff
joined her and started inspecting the dresses as she spoke, “Sir
Henry Woodville is my mother’s father. He joins us for dinner every
evening. Other than that, he stays in his rooms on account of his
delicate constitution and ailing health. He … he is a little
traditional in his mindset. What I mean is that he holds peculiar
notions about how a person should be.”

“I see,” said
Penelope, not seeing at all.

Lady Radclyff
pulled out a pink dress and eyed it critically as she continued,
“Grandfather thinks that one should judge a man by his moustache.
If a man has a respectable and by that he means a full, very large,
well groomed moustache, then that man is of some consequence. He
simply refuses to entertain anyone who does not have a
moustache.”

Tilting her
head to one side Penelope searched Lady Radclyff’s face … She found
her deadly serious.

Lady Radclyff
flung the dress on a chair, and then went and sat on the bed. She
patted the place next to her and Penelope joined her.

“Let me
explain. Grandfather holds very old fashioned notions. He believes
that women and children should be seen and not heard. Women should
not be educated. An ignorant woman is a good woman. We should
basically behave like imbeciles, fluttering our lashes and
following a man’s every wish. Men, on the other hand, should be
manly. They should conduct themselves as such and wear appropriate
clothing to reflect the same. Therefore, a man without a moustache
is no man at all. A man, he says, should wear his moustache with
pride, and the more glorious the moustache, the more powerful the
man.”

“He sounds
ghastly.”

Lady Radclyff
sighed and said, “Yes, it is difficult, but you see he is so old
that out of respect we try and keep him happy. We think he is going
to die soon, but then I have been hearing about his impending
demise since I was in frocks.”

“How old is
he?”

“We guess
around a hundred, though his exact age is difficult to determine.
They didn’t keep records of birth in those days like we do now. Or
if they did, then Grandfather’s mother wasn’t informed of the
fact.”

“What happens
when you have guests and they don’t have moustaches?”

“We keep a
supply of fake moustaches. The butler, Perkins, comes along with
the tray and everyone chooses one and sticks it on. We keep all
varieties— grey, brown, black and auburn. Of which some are wispy,
some are full and some are droopy, while some curl. The duke allows
the guests to choose their own and they see it as a hearty joke.
They don’t mind, and even if they did, no one would say so to the
duke.”

“Hmm,” Penelope
said, digesting this odd fact.

“Will you wear
this pink for dinner tonight? It is perfect and Grandfather will
approve of it. We can attend to your wardrobe and visit the modiste
tomorrow. The first ball is in a little over a week, and I am sure
Mademoiselle Bellafraunde will have something suitable for you in
time.”

Penelope eyed
the frothy dress in distaste. It had layers and layers of
underskirts, and it was a tad long on her. The bodice was low but
not embarrassingly so. Artificial pearls were scattered all over
it.

It had been a
present from her well intentioned neighbour, Mrs Biddy, and she had
packed it out of sentiment and not with any intention of wearing
it. But she didn’t want to offend Lady Radclyff, so she nodded
reluctantly.

“Wonderful. Now
that’s decided, I can get on with the rules.”

“Rules?”

“House rules
that everyone must follow including guests. No exceptions.”

“I see.”

“Now, rule
number one. Everyone must be on time for meals. Dinner is at seven,
breakfast at nine, nuncheon at twelve and tea is at four. If you
are late by even a second, then you will have to miss your meal.
You may not start eating before the allotted time either. Not a
second earlier or you will be asked to leave the table. Wait for
one of us to pick up the fork so you don’t make a mistake,” Lady
Radclyff rattled off the well-rehearsed speech.

“But how do you
know if we are a second early or late?”

“Grandfather
keeps his eye trained on his pocket watch and gives us the signal
to start. At other times, the duke tells us the time. The only
respite we have from this schedule is when the duke and Grandfather
are not present. Then we can eat when we like.”

“What else?”
Penelope asked, disliking the duke even more. No one had been so
strict in her household. This sounded dreadful.

“You cannot eat
anything in your room. Not even a biscuit, although you are allowed
to have an occasional hot drink brought to you. Mother and I have
our tea in our rooms every morning. I also recommend leaving for
each meal a little earlier then you would normally, since the house
is large and you may lose your way.”

Penelope
scrambled to look for a pen and paper to write it all down.

“I have it all
written up. I keep one for all guests. It should be in your
dressing table drawer.”

Penelope nodded
faintly and went to fetch it.

“Now, this bit
here means that you cannot go anywhere without a chaperone. You may
not entertain anyone in the house without the duke’s prior
permission. You cannot go certain parts of the house like the
servants’ quarters, kitchens and the back garden.”

“Why can’t I
invite anyone?”

“The duke takes
his responsibilities very seriously. He is very particular about
our safety.”

“I am hardly
going to invite a ruffian to dine,” Penelope said offended,
forgetting the fact that just a few hours earlier she had issued an
invitation to an infamous highwayman, robber and deer stealer.

“Yes, well, now
the next rule,” said Lady Radclyff hurriedly. “You must on no
account enter his study.”

Penelope
wouldn’t have a problem following that rule. She would avoid the
man like the plague.

“The rest are
simple enough, outlining consequences if you are unwed and visit a
gentleman in his chambers while living under this roof. No roaming
the hallways at night in your dressing gown and a few more. Read it
tonight when you have time. Other than that, you may do as you
please.”

“Huh,” said
Penelope, turning the page. Twenty one rules to be adhered to or
you would be asked to leave. She wondered how long she would
last.

“Well, I think
I will leave you to rest and get ready for dinner. I will come and
fetch you myself just so you know the way. Now, I need to see my
brother in his study and shed those tears. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,”
Penelope muttered absently, her eyes feverishly scanning
The
Standard Decree on the Principles of Behaviour within the
Blackthorne Household
and trying to memorise it at the same
time. She didn’t hear the door click shut as Lady Radclyff
left.

***

Mary jammed a
comb in Penelope’s hair and attempted to run it through. It stuck
fast.

“Your hair,
Miss Pea, is like a curly tailed chimpanzee’s.”

“Have you ever
seen a chimpanzee, Mary?”

“No, but the
stablehand was telling me all about it. He saw one in a
circus.”

“Flirting
already? I take it the stablehand is a strapping young man.”

“Lor, Miss Pea,
go on with you and your teasing.”

Penelope smiled
at her maid and Mary grinned back.

“It is good to
see you happy, Miss. I was worried after what Madam Gertrude said
to you this morning. You looked dreadfully unhappy.”

“You
heard?”

“I was putting
out the washing, Miss. I heard enough.”

“I am sure she
did not mean it,” Penelope replied, avoiding Mary’s eye.

“Will you find
a man, Miss?”

“The dowager
will help me, I am sure. If nothing happens, then you can always go
back to the village. Or stay on here.” She quickly changed the
subject. “Is your accommodation alright, and how are you handling
things downstairs?”