Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
W ithin the week of seeing the first cottage, George arranged for them to see another rather quickly. Penelope tried her best not to read into it, since it was something she had proposed when they made their deal. She should only be pleased that he moved with such a fast pace, eager to get all her affairs in order before the end-date rolled along. Though, as she sat in the carriage, this time with the pair of wolfhounds, Penelope watched the side of his face and tried to peer into his mind like a book.
Perhaps he was through with her, and was ready to put her away somewhere. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least. It wasn’t like there were any other suitors who dared to show any interest in her.
“This one feels further from London,” Penelope said within the quiet.
George lifted his head as though he had dozed off. Blinking, he reached to pat Brutus on the head. “Only by a mile or two. Is that too far?”
“Goodness, no,” she quickly replied, pulling her stare away. “Couldn’t be far enough!”
He raised a brow and shrugged before turning away, resting his head against the back of the seat once more.
Chewing on her lip, Penelope wished to turn back time. Ever since their dinner together a few nights ago, the air between them felt calmer than she ever expected it to be. George would still tease, and she would do it right back, but there was a different air to it, something more playful and engaging. Not that she would even dare to complain - somehow, it had become the highlight of her day.
Now, as they went towards another cottage, Penelope’s thoughts circled around on themselves. What was it that she truly wanted? The independence of living within a small cottage still drew her in, with more animals than humans to keep her company. But at the same time, she imagined a future with George, going horseback riding and hiking through the woods.
Her heartbeat rose, chest rising and falling. Placing a hand over her chest, she lightly fanned herself.
“Warm?”
She looked over at George, who watched her quite closely all of a sudden. “Aren’t you?”
“Well,” he smirked, looking down at the pair of dogs, “I don’t have two very large and hairy wolfhounds lying across my lap.”
Penelope chuckled nervously. “I suppose you’re right.”
“What’s a matter with you?”
She glared at him. “Did you forget your manners at home?”
“I didn’t realize the spinster cared for them.”
“George -”
“Devils, Penelope, won’t you relax?” he chuckled, leaning forward to gently tug Brutus off from her lap till he rested along his own. “I only meant to have a little fun. Is there something bothering you?”
“N-No,” she fibbed, feeling rather embarrassed for lashing out at him. “It is only like you said. The carriage is warm, and the hounds.”
George narrowed his eyes. “You’re worried about the cottage, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” he replied. “Is that it? The first one was missing the stable and barn, so now you’re worried this one will be missing something too.”
Penelope watched him. He didn’t seem to be giving up anytime soon. With a sigh, she smiled. “Yes, that’s it. I worry about the cottage.”
“Well, I wouldn’t fret too much. From what I heard, it should be up to your standards.”
“Who exactly do you get these houses from?”
George shrugged, pulling back the curtain to peer out the window. “You know, here and there.”
She raised a brow. “I don’t know, actually. Who’s ‘here and there’?”
“Do you really want to ruin the mystery of it all?”
Penelope rolled her eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me.”
The carriage ride quickly became bumpy as they went off the road, going down a path that led up to the cottage.
Penelope looked over at him. “Where did you live in the New World?”
“Hm?” he said, eyebrows raised, obviously surprised that she asked. “Many places, I suppose.”
“Name one.”
“I arrived in New York,” he began. “And stayed there for a while. There were a few gentlemen I had known in London that went off to find fortune there, so we found each other within the city.”
“I thought you went out west.”
“Well, once we settled our business in New York, we went separate ways,” he explained with a shrug. “I sought exploration and hard work with expansion into the west.”
Penelope smiled eagerly, wanting to hear more. “And where’d you stay out there?”
“Darling, there wasn’t much of anything out there.”
“You lived in the wilderness, didn’t you?”
George smirked, raising a brow at her. “Why’re you so interested?”
“Is it not exciting to you?”
“Of course it is,” he said. “Why do you think I did it?”
Penelope sighed. “It is like what I seek,” she said. “ That is why I’m interested. While it isn’t America, it is my own New World, living the life I saw myself living. To hear it from you makes it feel all the more possible.”
George smiled as the carriage rolled to a stop. “I hope you never stop believing in your own future.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t say that too fast, now,” George teased as he opened the carriage door, letting the wolfhounds eagerly jump out, “I find myself a hard temptation to ignore.”
“You flatter yourself.”
“Indeed I do,” George said while stepping out the carriage.
Unlike last time, when he held his hand out to her, Penelope gladly took it, feeling the warm of his large, calloused hand engulf her own. She stepped into the cloudy, humid afternoon, the tall overgrown blades of grass reaching as high as her waist.
“Oh, devils,” George muttered as he waded through the sea of grass and weeds.
Penelope followed his stare to the cottage. The small building was run down and on the brink of collapsing, patches of the roof already caving in. A stream ran behind the cottage, one that came from runoff from a recent rain. The wolfhounds drank from it, setting their warm feet in the cool water for a moment or two before running off and disappearing within the grass. Penelope ran her hands over their wispy tops, goosebumps appearing up and down her bare arms.
She watched George ducked through the front door, the entire building creaking the moment he took one step inside. Penelope approached with a deflated heart, stepping onto the raised porch only to hear it moan and bend beneath her weight.
“This won’t do,” she quietly said as she walked within the cottage’s parlor.
George appeared from a bedroom door. “Don’t be so disheartened,” he said, waving her over. “It is quite cozy, when you ignore everything falling apart.”
Penelope laughed, taking slow and cautious steps to enter the bedroom behind him. It was a small room, half the size of the bedroom she lived in now. There was plenty of space for the dogs, and a bed for her to sleep in. A wardrobe painted green sat in the corner, ornate flowers drawn across it in different shades. Penelope waded across the room, dragging her fingertips along the lines and curves.
“What do you see when you imagine your cottage?” George asked.
She shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“Don’t lie,” he quickly said. “Or act like you haven’t been imagining it for years. Go on, tell me.”
Penelope kept her back facing him out of embarrassment. She had thought about it, perhaps for all her life, and that was something he didn’t need to know. “There would be a fireplace,” she whispered. “For the winter months. A kitchen, large enough for me to bake my own breads and collect a season’s harvest.”
“A garden?”
“Oh, yes,” she mused. “A vegetable garden. Chickens, perhaps.”
George appeared at her right, leaning forward as if he tried to see her face. “Of course,” he murmured. “Can’t forget the chickens.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Heavens, no,” he said, straightening up. “I’m only curious. What else?”
Penelope eyed him, but only saw sincerity in his face. Not only that, but she realized that she had never shared these things with another person before. Sure, she’d whisper it in the dogs’ ears, even if she wished for them to nod and talk back, but never before had she revealed it to another person. It was more freeing than she realized it would be.
“I wouldn’t have a need for a study or a drawing room,” she said, “But space for books, and bookcases would be necessary. And a singledesk, with not a piece of embroidery in sight.”
George laughed. “Then what would the desk be for?”
“Writing letters, I suppose. Imagine it being below a window, and if I picked up artistry, I might paint the view from my desk.”
“Ah,” George mused, “Of course, there would be that to consider.”
Penelope glanced over at him. He stood only a few feet away, hands within his pockets as he watched her. There was so much within his face, emotions she couldn’t recognize, that suddenly, she lacked air, and every window within the cottage was tightly shut.
“Excuse me,” she mumbled, one hand pressed over her stomach.
“Wait, what’s -”
Penelope curved out the bedroom, no longer hearing him. Going out the back door, she ignored the way the cottage creaked again beneath her, as if it would fall apart at any given moment. Coming out the back door, Penelope left the raised porch, taking a few long strides further into the sea of tall grass. In the distance, she watched the dogs run so fast through the fields that the grass was bent in half at some spots, creating a rambunctious trail through the sea of weeds.
Out from behind her, she heard the sounds of George leaving the cottage, coming up behind her.
“Does the cottage disappoint you that much?”
Penelope couldn’t turn to face him. “Of course not,” she said. “I felt rather like those decaying walls would collapse at any moment. Didn’t you?.”
“I suppose ,” he murmured, giving her an odd look. “I believe a storm is coming.”
Penelope raised her head to the sky. He was right: when she breathed in deeply through her nose, the smell of distant rain came to her. It was nostalgic and comforting, and suddenly, she was eager for it. The skies in the distance began to take on a darker grey, that faded into a heavy blue.
Looking out over the fields, Penelope kept her gaze on the hounds. They rested within the tall grass, Brutus’s head sticking out over the weeds to sniff the air. They both panted, tongue lolling out the sides of their mouths happily.
“You know what I want most of all out of a cottage?”
“What?”
Penelope smiled. “That,” she whispered, nodding towards the dogs. “Seeing them breathless and happy. Exhausted from running over all their land. Exhausted from playing. To think,” she paused, voice almost going so quiet she thought it barely carried over the breeze, “They were once strays, living on the streets of London.”
George’s presence came closer to her side. “It is a good life you wish to give them.”
“It’s the only life they deserve.”
“But,” he said, quietly, “I wonder if it is the life that you seek as well.”
Penelope glanced over at him, suddenly aware of how close he was. “What could you possibly mean by that?”
“Not that I doubt your yearning for independence, that would be hypocritical of me,” George quickly said, holding his hand out to her, “But aren’t there other pleasures you believe…you might…miss?”
Her eyes narrowed. It was odd to see him grasping at words, unsure of what it is he wanted to say. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
He sighed. “Wouldn’t you miss having acquaintances at racetracks?”
Penelope blinked, lips slightly parted.
“There are things you wouldn’t be able to do, you know,” he muttered. “If you were out here, in the middle of nowhere.”
“It’s only a carriage ride away.”
“I’m well aware.”
“No, George,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm. “I mean, it is only a carriage ride away.”
Glancing at her hand over his arm and back up to her face, George’s eyes narrowed. “I’m still not following.”
“Eventually, when we do come across the right place,” Penelope began, speaking slowly as she thoughtfully chose her words, “I would like to think that our…friendship has grown to the point where you’d feel more than welcome to…you know.” She sighed. “Since it’s only a carriage ride.”
George blinked a few times.
“Or if you’d rather not,” she drawled, eyes growing wide with embarrassment, any confidence she had before slipping right out of her, “Just tell me now.”
“Darling,” George suddenly said, his voice cool, “If you wanted me to visit, you should’ve just asked.”
Penelope felt the heat rush to her face as she looked away, crossing her arms angrily over her chest. “You’re such a -”
“What?” George called out with a laugh. “I’d love to hear it!”
Rolling her eyes, Penelope clapped her hands before pulling her fingers up to her lips, and releasing a high-pitched whistle. It rang through the air shrilly, immediately grabbing the wolfhounds attentions. Brutus came first, pausing half way to take a look over his shoulder and make sure his brother, Titus, followed along. Eventually, the tired pair made their way to Penelope’s feet.
Crouching down, Penelope planted kisses on their snouts, pulling them in close for a hug. “My two oldest boys,” she cooed in their ears. “Time to head home before the storm hits.”
As she stood back up, Brutus and Titus trotted over to the carriage, where the driver opened the door up for them.
“You act as if they can understand you,” George said with an amused look.
“What did that look like to you?”
He shrugged. “Commands. Years of training.” He thrusted an accusatory finger at her. “Sorcery?”
“You’re ridiculous!” Penelope huffed. “What sort of fiction have you been reading recently?”
“Keep hiding your secret from me. Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”
Penelope let out a loud laugh, the noise echoing across the empty fields and woody forests. When she looked back over at George, he watched her with a raised brow, the smallest of smiles peeking out at the corner of his lip. Looking away, she quickly tried to bury the rising feeling of emotion that threatened to burst out of her. She couldn’t understand what any of their discussions meant, or what it is that she wanted out of them.
All she knew, was that her time with him was nowhere near finished, and there was still so much she needed to hurdle over before the cottage came.
“Shall we?” George asked, extending an arm to her.
Penelope nodded, hooking her arm around his. He led the way through the tall grass to the carriage, where the two wolfhounds waited for them, sleepily laying their heads against the seats. The driver extended a hand for Penelope on one side while George did upon the other. As she grasped both their hands, stepping up onto the carriage, a shock of electricity ran up her arm. Shooting her head over to George, he watched her with a similar expression. Wide eyes, lips slightly parted with only short exhales coming out.
Quickly turning away, Penelope entered the carriage scooting close to Brutus, who immediately draped his long snout across her lap. George entered after her, keeping his distance across the small compartment. Titus followed his brother’s suit, laying himself beside George, and falling asleep almost immediately. As the carriage began to move, rumbling and grumbling over the rocky path, Penelope kept her attention on the window, and the storm that steadilyapproached.