Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
P enelope supposed she would never get used to the role of Duchess. For the first time in her life, she wished to turn back time, to when she was nothing more than a thoughtless child, watching Alicia step into the role herself. Perhaps if she was more kind then, more open-minded to Alicia’s hardships, she’d find herself better suited now, after being thrown into the role herself. The ball had yet to even happen, but Penelope was already overthrown by the growing responsibilities.
The ball was being held at Yeats Manor, which just finished being renovated. The work had been going on for over a year, according to George, and he hadn’t seen it yet in its new splendor. Everything needed for the party - expensive wine, exquisite delicacies, a well-known orchestra - already waited for them at Yeats Manor. All that was needed, now, were the hosts themselves, and that thought was the most frightening of them all.
The day before the ball, after breakfast, Mrs. Howard and Clarissa swept into Penelope’s room to pack up her things. A carriage already waited outside the townhouse, and judging by Mrs. Howard’s tight expression, they were already hours behind schedule. Astounded at the speed at which they moved, Penelope struggled to collect her animals, forgetting that Butternut preferred to hide within the nooks and crannies of George’s belongings. Halfway through, Mrs. Howard and her sour-pinched face told Penelope of the plans that did not include bringing the dogs.
“Ultimately,” Mrs. Howard was saying while servants came to retrieve her trunk, “The decision is yours, your Grace, but you might find the day to be smoother by leaving them here.”
“I…I have never truly been without them, Mrs. Howard,” Penelope murmured, taking a seat at the edge of her bed as the animals circled around her. Titus and Brutus, the wolfhounds, lept onto the bed, ignoring the huffs the housekeeper made. “Not for longer than a day. Overnight seems…well, it feels out of the question.”
Mrs. Howard pressed her lips together. “As I said, the choice is yours, your Grace.”
Penelope traileda finger along the mastiff’s snout, his warm brown eyes blinking lovingly as he looked up at her. The longer she ran her hand over his face, the more his short tail began to wag, causing the others to grow in excitement too. Brutus leaned over her shoulder, his tongue rolling out the side of his mouth. Sadness touched her heart. She could not imagine giving the animals the attention they needed throughout the day if her mind was clouded by the ball. She didn’t even know what was in store for her at Yeats Manor, or if there was something expected of her upon their arrival, and yet, something told her that there would be more than she could ever imagine.
If the pack remained at the townhouse, at least their day would not have to be altered according to the gathering. Penelope would not be burdened by guilt when she was forced to put her attention elsewhere. And the staff at the townhouse knew well enough by that point what the dogs needed, or how to find Butternut within her countless hiding spots. Though it all pained her, Penelope rose from the bed, clearing her throat to grab Mrs. Howard’s attention.
“The animals will remain here, at the townhouse,” she said, though there seemed to be no confidence behind her words. “As long as we can ensure the servants will know how to care for them. I know Clarissa is comfortable with them, but I’d prefer she traveled with me.”
Clarissa beamed from behind the housekeeper.
“Worry not, your Grace,” Mrs. Howard said with a pleased smile. “It will only be for two nights, nothing more. I’ll have a stableboy or a groom sent up to tend the beasts for you.”
Though the housekeeper had no intention of offending Penelope, she found herself bristling atthe woman’s words. The sensible part of her knew that the dogs would be quite unhappy in a Manor full of people they did not know. Despite them never truly knowing it, Penelope knew that this option would be easier for them all. Standing from the bed, she spared herself the time to say goodbye to each one of them. Mrs. Howard remained fixed at the door, holding Penelope’s traveling gloves and a wide-brimmed hat for the summer sun. Ignoring the housekeeper’s persistent and impatient presence, Penelope kissed each dog at the top of their head.
Breathing a sigh, Penelope took her leave, forcing herself to remain looking forward as the pack eagerly went to follow, only to be halted by the shut door.
“The ride to Yeats Manor will be an hour or two,” Mrs. Howard was explaining as she led the way through the townhouse. “Everything you need is in the trunk. Clarissa will organize your things once you arrive.”
“Mrs. Howard,” Penelope asked, taking a few long strides to keep up with her. “Might you warn - I mean, tell me of what duties will be required of me once I arrive?”
“Nothing more than the ordinary, your Grace,” she replied.
Penelope remained tight-lipped, embarrassed at her inability to even know the ‘ordinary’.
“Directing the final decorations,” Mrs. Howard suddenly began to explain, giving Penelope a small smile. “Approving the music the orchestra has prepared. Finalizing the menus, checking the wine, those sorts of things. Most of the work is finished, it only requires your approval.”
At the front door, the servants lined up. Penelope peered out the opened door, catching a glimpse of George beside the carriage, helping the rest of the staff load the trunks. He looked bright with excitement, Fred and Winnifred chattering on alongside him. Penelope wanted nothing more than to be in the same mindset as them, basking in the possibilities of it all rather than the responsibilities.
“I wouldn’t worry, your Grace,” Mrs. Howard said.
Penelope sighed. “Is it obvious?”
“It is your first ball as a Duchess. Hosting in your own home, your Grace, is new and, perhaps even frightening.” The housekeeper bowed down respectfully. “Try to enjoy it, if you can.”
Trying to repeat Mrs. Howard’s words in her head like a psalm, Penelope made her way out of the townhouse, donning a wide smile when the Millers noticed her. They climbed into the carriage one by one, and before she knew it, they were on the road to Yeats Manor.
Yeats Manor had a long path that led directly to its front doors. The path was divided into two halves, a long rectangular man-made stream slicing between them. Trees, tall and casting a canopy over the path, bordered the path on the outer edges. Statues made from marble, with an incredible attention to detail, were poised at the river’s corners, designed to look as though the figures poured the water into the rectangle from their basins. It was a lovelysight to see, something that looked as fantasticalas Vauxhall Gardens.
Around the river were places for torches to be lit. According to George, they would be lit up before the guests arrived, acting as a beacon to guide them towards the Manor. Penelope was entranced as the carriage followed the path, barely a bump in the road. Winnifred and Fred were too busy teasing George about the extravagant quarters to pay too much attention to everything outside the carriage’s windows. Penelope’s eyes clung to the Manor itself; it was multiple stories high, with architecture that reminded her of castles in the storybooks she used to fawn over.
As they exited the carriage, going up the stairs to the main entrance, Penelope was gobsmacked. More servants than she could imagine bustled through the foyer, carrying large vases full of blossomed tulips along with trays upon trays of cured meats and sliced fruits. Even the wine glasses, polished till they shone under firelight, looked priceless. She breathed a sigh at the relief she felt for not bringing the animals. Not only would the staff be thrust into a nightmare, but Penelope doubted the dogs would be at all comfortable with the hectic nature of preparing for a ball.
“George,” Penelope had asked a little ways into the afternoon, after she had already spent hours approving placements of chairs and sofas, “Was all of this truly necessary?”
He had shrugged. “You know what the Ton thinks of me. I am nothing more than the…how do they put it?”
“The American Duke,” she mused with a smirk.
George grinned. “Let us give them the most English ball they could ever imagine! They’ll be flocking to view and acquire my horses in no time.”
Penelope made herself a promise at that point, when the evening took hold and the ball loomed on the horizon. She would be the greatest she could be, for George. She might be his wife in name, but there was no telling how long she had left to be his partner. The the last thing she wanted was to disappoint him. This ball would push him forward in the Ton’s eyes, even if they didn’t know it yet. Somehow, some way, she’d make sure it did.
The next day, when the preparations came to a culmination, the guests began to arrive as the sun inched closer to the horizon. The servants went out to light the torches surrounding the river, and the guests were in awe. They filtered in one by one, each going on about how the ‘American Duke’ managed to bring sophistication to his home. Despite that, they never once wavered from their suspicions, not once letting up on the fact that George would remain an outsider for as long as they wished.
Penelope, alongside George, remained within the foyer at the beginning of the evening. The guests expected to be greeted by their hosts, though Penelope had a feeling that it was a duty that rested more upon her shoulders as the Duchess. At first, it was a simple task. The Ton knew her very well, and their interest was obviously leaning more towards George and his American friends. It wasn’t until a group of familiar faces passed through Yeats Manor’s threshold that Alicia allowed herself to drop the mask, and breathe a heavy sigh of relief.
“Mother,” Penelope said, reaching to embrace her.
Lady Caney, dressed in her best gown, streaks of grey now lingering in her locks, held Penelope had a distance to give her a once over. “Look at you,” she mused, a pleased smile on her face.
“What?”
“You look like the young lady from my dreams,” Lady Caney said. “The young lady I had always prayed you would be.”
Penelope smiled, though her mother’s belated praise struck an unpleasant feeling within her. Out the corner of her eye, she noticed George, who reached to shake Owen’s hand. The lady her mother had dreamt of still was nothing more than just that: a dream. Her heart pattered quickly against her chest, the long white gown she wore growing tighter at her breast.
“Penny,” Owen greeted, giving her a wide smile. “May I introduce Lady Diana, my betrothed?”
The young woman stepped forward into a deep curtsey. She was everything the daughter of a Duke was expected to be. Delicately handsome, blonde curls pinned against her head to look like swirled flowers, porcelain skin only made to look more pearly by the baby blue gown she wore.
“Your Grace,” Lady Diana cooed. “I have heard so much about you. I feel we are friends already!”
Penelope smiled as she gave Owen a quick glance. He winked, and she was sure that he never once mentioned her spinster past or affinity for stray animals. Breathing a sigh, she pulled the mask of a Duchess over her once more. “The pleasure is all mine,” she said. “I hope you enjoy the Manor. It is newly renovated.”
Alicia stepped out from behind their brother, the Duke of Garvey on her arm. “Dear Penny,” she called out to her, “You are radiant! Isn’t she radiant, Matthew?”
Matthew bowed his head at her. “Positively radiant,” he murmured. “I am looking forward to hearing more about the stud farm, George.”
George beamed from ear to ear. “Well, why don’t we take a walk? I’m sure there are plenty of gentlemen eager to know about the progress.”
Giving Alicia a gentle smile, Matthew left her embrace, following behind George. A part of Penelope cracked beneath the pressure, knowing that George was going to be well occupied for some time. When she looked back, only Alicia remained, and she watched her with a wary eye. Before Penelope could excuse herself, Alicia slipped an arm around her, keeping her tightly beside her.
“How perfect,” Alicia cooed. “I was eager for a moment alone with you, Penny. Let us take a turn ‘round the Manor.”
They began to slip around the growing crowds within Yeats Manor. The halls and rooms were already filled to the brim, Ladys and Lords of the Ton filling the air with their excited chatter. The orchestra prepared its first set within the ballroom, where the dancing would soon begin. Penelope had yet to know the halls of Yeats well enough to call it her home, and as they passed through a few parlors and drawing rooms, she grew overwhelmed with the idea of never having the chance. Bewildered with her own feelings, Penelope kept her head down as they walked.
“You feel so far from me, Penny.”
She glanced down at her sister, smirking at how much shorter she was than her, despite being the older one. “I am right here, Ali.”
“Then why can I not understand your sadness?”
“Sadness?”
“This is quite the accomplishment,” Alicia said. “To be a Duchess holding her own ball in a place as grand as this is not something to scoff at. You should be proud! You should bask in the admiration of the Ton! And yet, that success is clearly far from your mind.”
Penelope avoided meeting her sister’s piercinggaze. Ever since they were children, Alicia managed to read her like an open book. The feelings swarming within her chest were ones she had a hard time recognizing herself, though whenever she managed to catch a glimpse of George, they seemed to swell and overtake her.
“You wouldn’t understand,” she murmured. “And I don’t think I could explain.”
“Try.”
Penelope sighed. “Did you know you were meant to be a Duchess—or more specifically, Matthew’s wife—soon after your marriage?”
Alicia’s laugh was sudden, filling the air around them. “Heaven’s sake, no, Penny. It was never as easy as that. Is there…is there something troubling you about your position? About your marriage?”
“It’s just,” Penelope hesitated, trying to collect her thoughts, “Some ladies are meant to be mothers. Some ladies are meant to be lovers. Some, or perhaps only I, have lived all their lives without realizing what it is they are meant to be. Can you…can you understand that, Alicia?”
“I understand that you have much on your mind, Penny. What is it that you aren’t telling me?”
Penelope swallowed. “Nothing.”
“Shall I ask Mother?” Alicia asked in a playful voice, poking a finger into Penelope’s side. “Or better yet: Owen?”
“Go ahead,” she murmured. “I doubt they would know my truth when I cannot even find it myself.”
Alicia paused in their trek once they were in the ballroom. Countless other couples and mingling groups crowded all around them, waiting for the music to begin, but it all seemed to fade away. Alicia’s piercing green eyes were holding onto Penelope with a deep air of concern. “Dear me,” she whispered. “I can’t tease when you look as forlorn as that. Penelope, confide in me. Is…is it the Duke?”
Penelope felt herself stiffen, suddenly aware of where they were. Tears, hot and shameful, threatened to spill from her eyes. Clearing her throat, she pulled her arm from her sister’s tight hold. Giving her a smile, she said, “Do not pry, Ali.”
Snatching onto her hand, Alicia frowned. “Penelope, I -”
Before she could continue, George approached them, crossing the empty dance floor confidently. In that moment, Penelope watched him with wide eyes, her heart racing as his warm gaze held onto her. He was incredibly handsome, grabbing the attention of any and all ladies without barely batting an eye. Standing in front of them, George extended a hand to Penelope, the corner of his lip turning up in a grin.
“Come along, darling,” he said.
“W-What for?”
George laughed. “To open the floor, of course!” He grasped onto her hand, gently pulling her out the crowd and in front of the growing audience.
In the corner of the room, beside the orchestra, Winnifred and Fred were in the middle of a circle, boisterously telling some story to the curious Ton members. They were loud and spoke with their hands, not afraid of their voices carrying through the room. Penelope watched Winnie within the center of it all, the laughing faces all around her not bothering to deter her one bit.
“Perhaps we should go to our friend’s aid,” Penelope whispered to him at the center of the floor.
George followed her gaze over his shoulder. “No need,” he replied.
“But Winnie -”
“Is very much having the time of her life,” he said. Reaching, George tapped his finger beneath Penelope’s chin, raising her gaze towards him as a blush flooded across her cheeks. “Winnifred might look like a dainty flower, but believe me when I say, Penelope, that her stem is stronger than the oldest of trees. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”
Before Penelope could express any more concerns, George held her close to his side, gathering the attention of the onlooking crowd.
“Ladies and Lords,” he called, “We welcome you to Yeats Manor on this splendid evening. Please join the Duchess and mein a waltz!” George cast a look at the orchestra, and the conductor nodded before turning towards the musicians. Within an instant, there was a lovely tune filling the room, all eyes fixed upon them expectantly.
Penelope’s breath came out in short bursts. “George,” she murmured as he turned to face her, “I do not believe I can do this.”
His hand reached for her waist, grasping onto her and tugging her forward to close the space between them. As he held onto her other hand, his gaze fell down to take her in, a smile pulling up at the corner of his mouth. “You are utterly beautiful,” he said. “I fear I did not tell you sooner.”
The music began in a crescendo. Within a second, they were flying around the floor, Penelope’s feet moving without a single thought beneath her. Her eyes were caught on George, and she would not dare pull them away. The sincerity in his words, the unmistakable admiration that brightened his eyes, carried her forward. If there was a world around them, Penelope was ignorant to it. Everything beyond her husband faded away, becoming nothing more than a kaleidoscope of colors painted across an empty canvas.
George never once pulled his gaze away from her. If there were other dancers entering the floor around them, neither would ever realize it. They were utterly entranced, knowing where the other would step without even bothering to glance down at their feet. Penelope felt as though they shared the same mind, in that moment, and every worry she had before trickled out of her. How could she even imagine worrying when someone like George held her in the way he did? She could hardly remember worrying about anything in the first place.
Life beside George suddenly was easy to imagine. Waking up in the morning in the cottage to his breathing, to the pack bounding happily onto the bed, Butternut nestled between them like a babe. She could imagine it as though it were already true: taking walks around the fields, the summer breeze bringing them closer and closer. She’d tend to the gardens, he’d remain in the stables. Fresh bread baked in the ovens as they read their novels beside each other, mismatched tea cups in front of them. Penelope felt herself hold onto George tighter as they spun.
In no way did she see herself being without him, and that thought brought a deep fear into the pit of her stomach. Months ago, Penelope would’ve taken the chance to run away to a cottage hours away from the city with no one other than herself and her animals to keep her company. She’d be occupied by her books, by her growing garden, by her steed and nature herself. But suddenly, those ideas were tainted with loneliness, a gap she had never imagined to be there. And in its place, there was George.
In fact, perhaps…perhaps there was always George, and she had been too blind to see it. Not blind, but rather stubborn. So fixed in her ways that she ignored the change happening right in front of her. She held onto him in a different way, then, as the ballroom around them grew more and more focused. Penelope could feel it all ending, could feel him slipping from her fingertips before the music had even ended.
And then, as quickly as it began, the song was over.
George released his hold on her, an unreadable expression on his face as he faced the orchestra, giving them a polite clap as the rest of the audience did as well. Surrounding them were other dancing couples, turning then to clap and bow towards Penelope and George. The eyes clung to her in her most vulnerable state, as her deepest fears suddenly became clear to her, after all that time.
As the crowds pressed in on them, George already engrossed in a conversation, Penelope felt herself slipping away. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the walls of Yeats Manor seeming to press in on her. Penelope lowered her head as she crept out from the ballroom, one realization echoing in her mind as she searched for her room. Penelope would be leaving soon, and the fact almost brought her to her knees in despair.
Soon, she’d be without George, and that was the greatest sorrow she never realized she had.