Page 35

“Thank you, Anna. I hope you will be visiting at Brentdale for many weeks?” she inquired, heart lifting. Having a companion would make it much easier to forget her worries.

“I believe so,” Anna said with a dazzling grin. “Lady Penrith will stay for the length of the house-party, which is three weeks long. And I expect that she will remain for at least a week afterwards too, meaning we will remain almost five weeks here. Almost,” she added with a small frown.

“House party?” Penelope inquired.

“Yes. Twenty or so guests and three weeks filled with balls, parties and soirees. Lucky things,” Anna added, smiling brightly again.

Penelope chuckled. “You would truly enjoy such a thing?” she asked in real surprise.

She had never attended a ball—the village where she had grown up held an annual dance, and she and Emily had attended that several times, but she had not particularly enjoyed it.

The crowded space, the loud music and the men asking her and Emily to dance had all felt terribly uncomfortable.

Her home had been quiet and remote—set outside the village by a hundred yards or so, they hardly ever had visitors at the cottage, except people from the village seeking to talk to her father, who was the local vicar.

Being in an enclosed space with many people felt frightening, since she was so unused to it.

Anna nodded. “Oh, most certainly! Who would not love such a thing? Fine music, fine food and the chance to wear a fine dress! Bliss!” She whirled round, letting her skirt billow as she turned. Penelope smiled.

“When you say that, I begin to find it almost appealing,” she replied.

Anna giggled. “There! We shall have to attend a ball. Even if we go in disguise. It would not be too difficult,” she added with a grin. “You also don’t have an accent.”

Penelope blushed. She had wondered if anyone in the household had noticed that.

Some people had looked at her almost resentfully, and she understood why.

Only the gentry and nobility spoke like she did.

It was not her fault. Her father, while being the village vicar, was also the Honourable Mr Matthews, the younger son of Baron Alforth.

Since he was the younger son, he had not inherited anything at all, and his passion had always been the church, so he had never complained.

But, then, father always accepted whatever state he was in with equanimity and grace; his faith too strong to allow him to doubt that all was as it was supposed to be.

“I do not have an accent, no,” Penelope admitted, her eyes on the floor. She thought Anna might laugh or make a snide comment, but instead, when she looked up, she found Anna beaming at her.

“Nor do I,” Anna replied. “Will you laugh if I tell you a secret?” Her expression was serious again.

“No. Of course not,” Penelope replied instantly. The thought of laughing at anything told to her in trust was appalling.

“Mayhap you won’t believe me. Not many do,” Anna replied quickly.

“But my father was the grandson of a viscount. A real viscount! A very poor and obscure one, of course. And Father was the son of the fourth son, so he got not so much as a piece of wood from the floorboards.” She smiled.

“But, of course, you don’t have to believe me.

” Her hazel gaze was almost challenging.

Penelope gaped. It barely seemed possible. “Your father was the grandson of a viscount?” she asked.

“See? I told you that you would not believe it,” Anna said, sounding a little defensive.

“I do. I do,” Penelope replied at once. “But may I tell you a secret too?” she asked swiftly. Her heart pounded. Here was someone who might truly understand her.

“Of course. Anything,” Anna said at once. “Only not, perhaps, where the buried treasure is. I might go and look.” She grinned.

Penelope laughed. “If I had treasure, I would share it with you,” she said instantly, knowing it was true.

“The secret is that my father is the son of a baron. The second son, like your father was the son of the fourth son. My father also inherited nothing at all. He works as the vicar in the village where I grew up,” she added quickly. She glanced at Anna, who beamed.

“I knew straight away that we would be friends,” she replied warmly.

Penelope chuckled. “I am so glad,” she said at once. Anna held her gaze steadily, and she looked back, her heart lifting. In a house of coldness and isolation, she had found real warmth.

“As am I. You have no idea how much,” Anna said at once, grinning her big, warm smile. “Apart from Mrs Harwell, everybody is so serious.” She made a disapproving face. Penelope laughed.

“I am glad I met you,” she said at once.

“As am I,” Anna replied. “Now, if Master Thomas is sleeping, perhaps you can take a moment to enjoy some dinner?”

Penelope glanced at the baby. “I cannot leave him in here by himself,” she said swiftly. He was sleeping, but anything might wake him, and she would feel guilty if he awoke to find nobody beside him. “It would be cruel to him if he awoke unattended.”

“Nobody said that someone cannot fetch you some cold food,” Anna replied firmly. “The kitchen is just down there,” she added, gesturing at the door in the wall that led to the servants’ corridor. “And I would not mind having a second supper with a friend up here.”

Penelope beamed. “That is so kind of you!” she exclaimed, delighted. Her stomach grumbled at the thought of food. It was long past when she would usually have dined.

“I shall not be a moment,” Anna replied, going to the door.

“Thank you,” Penelope called back, heart lifting.

Anna smiled and disappeared through the door, shutting it behind her. Penelope went to the upholstered chair and sank into it, letting out a slow breath as she closed her eyes. A quiet sense of relief settled over her.

She leaned back, her heart full of appreciation and warmth.

As she looked around, her gaze paused on little Thomas, his angelic face aglow in the firelight.

She loved the child already. And even the earl was not terrible, she recalled.

She blushed again, her heart lifting at the thought of him.

Life at Brentdale might not be so bad, after all.