Chapter 1
Chapter 1
“ M iss Hislop, I have received strict instructions from the lady of the house not to let you in.”
“Oh Bernard, it would only be for a moment,” she tried to side step him but he blocked her with his arms opened wide.
“Miss Hislop, your request is beyond me!”
She smiled sweetly at him and went under his arms to the other side.
“Miss Hislop, you cannot–”
“Thank you, Bernard; I shall make sure to repay this kindness.”
The distressed butler sighed, but there was not much he could do to stop Penelope. She was a friend of the family, after all, and he had seen her pass through those doors since she was a little girl.
“I will just have a word with Eleanor, and I will be out of your hair.” Ironically, the older man had no hair, but Penelope, or Penny, as her friends called her, had always made such jokes with him, and he secretly loved it, despite the glare he passed her.
Penny, true to her word, wanted to have a word —or lots of words— with her childhood friend, who had been kind enough not to invite her to the ball her family hosted the night before. It had come as a shock to Penny when she found out that she had been left out without an explanation, or maybe there was one, but she did not want to think that her friend was that frail-minded.
No, Eleanor would never.
She pushed the door open, and the sight before her felt like a direct blow to her face.
“What is going on here?” Penny demanded with a frown. She had earlier rehearsed her speech to Eleanor, but that was when she thought Eleanor would be alone. She should have suspected this much when Bernard told her Eleanor was in her drawing room and not her bedroom. Penny had merely thought Eleanor was overseeing the rearrangement of the room as she told her she would some weeks ago. But now, with the sight of all her friends, finely dressed and all sipping tea from the tiny teacups they all held, Penny knew that her lack of invitation to the ball was purposeful. Eleanor did not simply forget to send her an invitation.
All of her friends paused, but not one of them had the nerve to look her in the eye, even Eleanor, her supposed best friend. The room fell silent until Marina coughed. She might have thought that would help alleviate the awkwardness, but it only made it worse.
“Penny…” Eleanor dragged and dropped her teacup on the table with the saucer underneath. Penny watched her swallow and smoothed out her pastel pink dress.
“You called everyone for tea, and you did not think to invite me?” They were the first words at the tip of her tongue. The other four girls cleared their throats, still looking away.
“Penny, you must understand that—” Penny shook her head, disbelief flooding her sight.
“I was not invited to the ball last night. Is that something I must understand, too?” Eleanor raised her hand to her head, fixing the little tendrils of red hair behind her ears.
“Penny, this matter is far more—” Eleanor started but was once again cut off by Cordelia.
“It is best if you tell her the truth, Eleanor. She needs to know,” her words were without venom; her voice was cool, calm, and collected like Cordelia always was, but it stung just the same. The black-haired girl had no expression on her face, but her words had a hint of annoyance, not at Penny, but at the situation. Penny averted her gaze to her. Eleanor stepped aside.
“Given the situation shrouding your family, I am sure you understand that it has become difficult for us to be seen with you… especially out in public…”
Penny bit down on her lower lip as tears threatened to fall.
“You are a smart girl, Penny, smarter than most of us. You should know how these things work.” Feeling defensive, Penelope took a step toward the oak table the girl sat around.
“My family is innocent!” Her face burned. “The duke should be blamed for this. He framed my father, and you all know it,” she was close to tears now, but she could not cry, not in front of these women who now stared at her as though she was less of a lady than they were.
“If that were true, your brother would not have fled the country and you know it,” Marina shrugged, and Penny’s chest caved. She bit harder on her lower lip until she tasted blood.
“Even if it were so, my sister and I have no ties to the matter. It is between my father and that… cruel duke!”
Gasps arose at the insult.
“Penny! You will not speak of His Grace in that manner in my home!” Eleanor rebuked. Penny could not believe her ears. She had watched Eleanor say less than nice things about the duke in question multiple times. He was the Cruel Duke, after all. “We know you and Lydia are innocent, but it is just so unfortunate that you both have to suffer the burn of it.”
Penny had never felt such rage before. It held her by the neck, aching for release, but there was nothing she could do but suppress it. The ladies were right. Her family’s ruin was the talk of the town. Her brother had fled England, and her father was imprisoned. It was very bold of her to march into the Langley house as though she was not aware of the situation.
She was aware, very much so. It was the sole reason she came anyway.
“Very well then, enjoy your tea, do not let me spoil the mood any longer,” she mustered a smile, and with one last glance at them, she ran back home. She should have listened to her inner voice that warned her of what may happen if she went to the Langley house. Penny had been stubborn— foolish— to think that her friends would be any different from the rest of the Ton. It had only just dawned on her that she was alone now, save her sister and Aunt Augusta.
Penny wiped the tears from her face the closer she got to her family home. Lydia would be home, and she would hate for her to see her in such a state. With a hard smile, Penny walked in.
“Oh goodness, you are back,” Aunt Augusta smiled. Confusion struck Penny as she looked around the drawing room where old dresses lay on the bare floor.
“Lydia and I began putting together dresses for her debut,” Aunt Augusta patted Lydia’s head, and the young girl smiled warmly. Aunt Augusta had been a rock for them both, stepping up as their mother after Penelope’s mother died. She had been more than delighted to take the role since she had no children of her own as she never married.
“How was your outing?” Lydia inquired.
Penny did not have the answer Lydia wanted to hear, so instead of replying, she joined them on the floor, looking through the old modes, some even belonging to their Aunt Augusta. Penny instantly regretted selling off her dresses when she did, but she did not have much choice in the matter. Her father had just been imprisoned, and any little money he left behind, Patrick, the eldest, took it and fled, leaving them in utter penury. There had been heaps of bills to pay, and Penny could not handle them all on her slender shoulders. All their servants had left due to the lack of money, and it was a miracle they were able to cook and clean by themselves.
“What have you found?” Penny asked Lydia after a beat had passed. Lydia smiled and got up, showing off the lavender dress that belonged to their Mama. The color suited her, and she looked just like their mother. Even Aunt Augusta let out a soft gasp at the sight.
“You look magnificent, dear sister!”
Penny smiled, but deep down, she knew that Lydia would be scorned and overlooked all the same without a dowry.
Later that evening, Penny gathered her family at the table and served them dinner.
“This looks delicious,” Lydia beamed but Penny knew the taste would be far from the word. The sweet potatoes had been a gift from one of the sellers who Penny usually bought from. The kind man had noticed Penny did not have much money left on her to buy potatoes, so he called her and handed some to her. Little by little, Penny and her family had eaten them, sometimes with nothing in them but water. This time was no different. Even the parsley Penny had managed to sprinkle in it did not make it taste better than before.
“It does, does it not?” Penny smiled back; her eyes locked on the oak table. Perhaps she should sell the table and use it to buy some meat for the coming days?
“What are you thinking about, sister?” Penny lifted her eyes to find a happy Lydia staring at her.
“Nothing to worry your pretty head about, dear.”
“Perhaps you should tell her–” Aunt Augusta started but one look from Penny made her cease talking. Lydia did not have to know how bad their situation was, she should focus on her debut and nothing else.
Penny loved her family so dearly that she thought it impossible to feel anything other than deep love and affection for them, but Patrick had changed that.
What kind of brother just leaves and abandons his sisters like that?
She loathed her brother for letting them fend for themselves without a protector. Despite her faltering smile, she swore to kill Patrick if she ever set eyes on him again.
Or perhaps I should kill the Duke of Huxton for putting us in this mess in the first place.