Chapter One #2
“Good news, miss?” Sally asked, worry coloring her tone.
“Yes and no,” Penelope sighed, folding the letter in half.
“It seems I must remain here for a bit longer. Lady Wyldewood will arrange for me to stay at the earl’s country estate in a week or two.
I must confess that I fear being caught by Lord Camden…
each time he visits with his architect, my stomach is tied in knots for hours after he departs. ”
Sally gathered up the tea tray. “The entire staff shares your worry, but they will never betray the fact that you sought shelter within these walls. We are most fortunate that His Lordship has only visited during the daytime hours and never stays overnight.”
“Yes…that is fortunate,” Penelope murmured. “Although I do not like scurrying around like a mouse whenever he appears. It is not very dignified.”
Resting the tray on her hip, Sally smiled at her mistress. “Undignified, yes, but better to exhaust yourself evading the cat than to be trapped by him.”
*
The hour had grown late by the time Penelope retired for the night.
A storm rolled in while she prepared herself for bed, and as she twisted her hair into a long, thick braid, the sky outside her room flashed with lightning.
Thunder rumbled ominously, and Penelope shuddered as she pulled the drapes closed.
She had always hated thunderstorms. The reason for those feelings was unknown, but the general unease she’d experienced since early childhood had never failed to annoy her mother.
Thankfully, as a child, her nanny comforted her instead of the woman who had birthed her and still treated her as little more than an inconvenience.
Turning the lamp down until it left a small, glowing pool of light, Penelope slid between the sheets and plumped the pillows behind her head.
Usually, she read a bit before drifting off to sleep, but tonight, she felt as though she were wound far too tight to concentrate on written words.
Worry for her future needled her, and she found slumber elusive.
Learning that her parents had become aware of her disappearance was a distinct cause for concern.
She wasn’t sure which route they would take in their search.
Would they go so far as to call upon a Bow Street runner to track her down, or circulate word throughout the ton and entice her to return home on her own accord?
Hoping that they would not attempt to locate her was foolish.
They would hunt for her…and eventually, they would find her, and she would be subjected to their furious embarrassment.
What might happen at that point, however, was up to Penelope.
Would she surrender to their selfish demands? Or fight against the depressing future they had planned for her?
Fight. I will fight. Penelope’s fists clenched with determination. If they persist in forcing me to wed Lord Grant, it will require them dragging me kicking and screaming in protest right up to the altar steps. Even then, I shall not give in.
Different scenarios raced through her mind while beyond the closed drapes, thunder rolled as if in agreement with Penelope’s impassioned promise to herself.
She fell asleep under the weight of her personal burdens, but late in the evening, beneath the rumbling, another sound caught her attention.
It dragged her from slumber, and for a long moment, she lay still, wondering if she was still dreaming.
The noise came again, startling her into full wakefulness.
That was more of a heavy clatter…like multiple books falling off a shelf, or somebody stumbling on the stairs. It seemed to have come from the floor directly below her room, and Penelope sat up straight in bed, her ears straining to hear more.
Throwing back the covers, she slid on her slippers and donned a lightweight wrap that matched her plain white muslin nightgown. Tiptoeing to the bedroom door, she pressed her ear to the thick oak wood and listened intently.
Thump. Thump.
Penelope frowned. This time, the noise sounded like a heavy door slamming against the wall.
Who…or what…could it be? The servants were abed at this hour, and the house was dark and silent.
Perhaps a window had been left open when the upstairs maid cleaned earlier that day.
A gust of wind from the storm outside could be the cause of the banging noise.
It was a likely possibility. One that must be remedied before any damage occurred from wind-blown rain.
Opening her bedroom door, Penelope peeked out into the darkened corridor.
Her room was on the fourth floor, with an unoccupied attic above it.
The third floor consisted of the master bedroom and sitting area, a separate room for the lady of the house, which adjoined the master’s, and an elegantly appointed parlor with four bay windows overlooking the street below.
Since the townhouse occupied a corner lot, the bedrooms on that floor also had windows that opened to the street.
She heard the noise again and, against her better judgment, Penelope stepped into the corridor while shutting the bedroom door behind her.
Taking careful steps, she made her way to the staircase and bent over the railing.
Peering down to the landing below, she squinted in the darkness, trying to assess if anyone was there.
Seeing no one in the shadowy darkness, she tiptoed down the stairs until she reached the third-floor landing.
At the far end of the corridor was the master bedroom.
A soft light emanated from beneath the heavy oak door, and within the room came the definite sounds of someone or something shuffling about.
Thunder rumbled once more in the distance, and the corridor lit up with a quick flash of lightning from the parlor at the opposite end of the hall.
Penelope steeled her spine and made her way to that room with the intent of checking that the windows were indeed closed against the storm outside.
After ensuring that the parlor windows were indeed secure, her attention returned to the master bedroom. Light still shone from beneath the door as Penelope approached. With a hand on the knob, she took a deep, fortifying breath and carefully cracked the door open to peek inside.