Chapter Five

Mr. Penny smiled at the looking glass. He had found over the course of his life that when he was not feeling his very best, smiling often had the effect of raising his spirits. It was as if the glass saw him smiling, then all must be well.

It was no use.

The truth was, he felt a jangle of nerves. From what he was able to gather from various sources in the house, Lady Thurston had put on an outrageous performance last evening. That, of course, would not really be his problem. How ever that lady chose to embarrass herself was her own butler’s problem.

But there was something else brewing. The earl had become more and more insistent that Lord Bumbledon was the right choice for Lady Madeline.

There were a multitude of problems with that idea. One, Mr. Penny was all but certain that Lady Madeline did not care for the fellow. Two, Lord Bumbledon had somehow been put in a pique over Lord Souderton, though he was not altogether clear what had occurred. Three, The League had turned their eyes on Lord Souderton as the most suitable candidate for Lady Madeline’s hand. And four, as far as he could tell, Lady Madeline did not care for Lord Souderton after their initial meeting at Almack’s.

Why did not anybody care for anybody? Why must it all be so complicated?

On top of all those problems, Mr. Mandrake, that bedeviled Pomeranian, had adopted a new mode of attacking Mr. Penny's ankles. It seemed the old and arthritic dog had realized that his chasing days were over, as Mr. Penny had outrun him several times. So now, the devil hid behind doorways and just bided his time until somebody walked by.

He'd drawn blood this morning, and then just strolled off as if he’d done nothing at all. He hardly needed that godless canine adding to his upset just now!

There was a soft knock on his door.

“Yes?” he called, working to put the usual cheer into his tone.

The door swung open and Freddy, the newest of the footmen, stepped hesitantly inside.

“Mr. Penny,” he said, “I am not certain whether I ought to report this or not.”

“When in doubt, report,” Mr. Penny said. “That is a rule you can live by. There is no tattling in the servants’ hierarchy—only telling.”

Freddy seemed to take courage from that directive. “It’s just this, sir. Meggy has just set off and she said she was going out to place an advertisement in a newspaper. Naturally, I became greatly afeared that you weren’t happy with my work and, well, I did begin to weep a little.”

“My young friend,” Mr. Penny said, “if there was anything amiss, I would tell it straight to you so you might correct it.”

Freddy nodded gratefully. “Well, sir, Meggy told me to stop being a goose and the advertisement had nothing to do with looking out for new staff and it’s being done for Lady Madeline.”

Mr. Penny slowly sank into a nearby chair. “Lady Madeline?”

Freddy said, “Yes, is it odd? I thought it were odd, but then I couldn’t be sure as it’s the first time I’m workin’ for the high and mighty. What do I know about what they do?”

“It is odd,” Mr. Penny said. “I cannot account for it.” He paused and said, “But there may be a logical explanation. Perhaps Lady Madeline assists another lady in advertising for a lady’s maid or some such thing.”

“Aye, that makes sense now, don’t it?” Freddy said, sounding relieved that all must be well.

Mr. Penny was not quite as sanguine. He’d not heard anything at all about Lady Madeline assisting another lady in such an effort. But if that was not the case, what on earth could it be?

“Say nothing about any of this, Freddy. We will not like to cause unnecessary talk, you understand.”

Freddy took two fingers and smashed his lips together. Once completing that interesting operation, he whispered, “Lips closed, Mr. Penny.”

After Freddy closed the door behind him, Mr. Penny spent a good quarter hour mulling over why Lady Madeline was placing an advertisement in the newspaper. It did not do anything well for his spirits.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Despite the duke and duchess haunting his every move, Owen felt exceedingly cheerful. After speaking to Lady Madeline at Lady Thurston’s poetical…whatever that was…he had begun to be cognizant of a new idea.

Mainly, he’d realized that he’d made a mountain out of a molehill. After all, what was so wrong about Lady Madeline wishing to help impoverished pupils? It had not been what she was doing that had irked him, it had been the way she had expressed it. How she’d hinted that everybody ought to be able to justify their existence.

Perhaps she was right? Perhaps he did not have such noble ideas, but he could assist her in accomplishing her own. He’d said he would approach Lady Reddington and he had. The lady had been most interested and promised to send Lady Madeline an invitation to advertise her charity at the rout. In fact, it had been Lady Reddington who had pointed out the flaw in his original opinion—she found it exceedingly admirable that so young a lady was attempting the endeavor.

That was right, was it not? Perhaps he’d just been thrown off by Lady Madeline because she was an exceptional sort of person.

Of course, her immediate announcement of her charity upon introduction had been odd, there was no getting round that, but odd did not necessarily mean wrong. No crime had been committed, unless one was to view the effect of her words upon Owen’s father. That fellow was still talking about Lady Madeline’s lack of understanding over what had happened to the nobility in France and had taken to referring to her as Lady Scoldy-Skirts.

But then, perhaps passion had been mistaken for scolding. After all, it was not very likely that if a tenant farmer’s son read the Greeks it would move him to set up a guillotine and wish to chop off the local earl’s head. He hoped.

“Henderson,” he said to his valet, “if I were to marry anytime soon, I believe I would be interested in a woman like Lady Madeline Cole. It occurs to me that I had been thinking of a lady’s qualities all wrong. When I think of it, I imagine I will wish for more than elegant manners and an agreeable temperament.”

“The apology came off that well, did it?”

“Lady Madeline was very gracious and said it had all been forgotten.”

“According to the duke and duchess, you are to marry anytime soon,” Henderson said. “Is there a particular reason why you would be interested in someone like Lady Madeline, rather than Lady Madeline herself?”

Really, his valet had fallen into the habit of taking outrageous liberties.

“I only say…” Henderson went on.

“You only say quite a lot sometimes,” Owen said brusquely. Despite his words, though, he did consider the idea.

If he were to marry, why not Lady Madeline? Life would not be boring, he was sure. This idea of impoverished pupils was not likely to be the only idea or the last idea. Who knew what she would think of next?

And then, she was the prettiest lady he’d ever set eyes on. Their conversation at Lady Thurston’s house had an ease to it that had not been there at Almack’s. He would not soon forget her ideas of debating in private and then presenting a united front to the world. It was just what he would wish.

“Lady Madeline Cole is becoming widely known as this season’s beauty,” Henderson said. “She is the daughter of a respected earl and is suitably funded. I suppose that if you did think of pursuing her, you would not be alone in the chase.”

That idea brought up images of Lord Gentry and that ridiculous Lord Bumbledon. Gentry was empty pockets and might well be on the hunt this year. As for Bumbledon, he would seem to have nothing to recommend him, but why had the earl invited the fellow into his box at Lady Thurston’s poetical debacle? And then who knew who else was sniffing around? There might be dozens of suitors he was in the dark about. It was positively outrageous.

“I am the only gentleman who has seen to it that Lady Madeline will be advertising her charity at Lady Reddington’s Join Forces rout. That is what the lady cares about, not some smarmy compliments from a rogue like Gentry and not the bumbling Bumbledon. That, I can assure you.”

“So you will pursue Lady Madeline?”

“I did not say that!”

It was true, he did not say that. However, he had begun thinking about it.

How on earth had he come to consider it? Just days ago, his entire reason for being was to dodge his parents’ idea that he ought to marry. It was to be a cat and mouse game with him the clever cat and they the unsuspecting mice.

It felt a little unnatural to be considering something his mother and father would approve of. It felt as if he were waving the white flag of defeat. He did not like them to think that they’d won.

That was just some sort of childish defiance though, was it not? Yes, that’s what it was, born of a lifetime of dodging their directives. It had become a habit—they said up, he pretended to agree, and then promptly went down.

“Well, no need to make any proclamations at this moment,” Henderson said.

“I will make a proclamation if and when I see fit,” he said. There it was again. Defiance to no purpose. What was wrong with him?

No matter. He would encounter Lady Madeline at Lady Reddington’s charity event and then he would see what she would have to say about his efforts to get her included in it. And then, the lady was invited to dine at his house.

As he had just told his valet, there was no need to make any proclamations about his future just yet.

It was only that he’d begun thinking of his future, which he really had not been planning to do…

“I suppose you’ll want your best coat for Lady Reddington’s evening?” Henderson asked.

“Do not be daft, Henderson. Of course I will.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Madeline stood frozen in the drawing room. Mr. Penny was equally frozen, staring at her. She did not quite know what to do.

“What shall we do?” Mr. Penny whispered.

The countess hurried into the room. “What on earth is going on outside of our house? Who are all those men?”

“Now, Mama,” Madeline said in her best soothing tone, “I think this situation would be categorized as unintended consequences.”

“Madeline,” the countess said sternly, “if you know anything about this, I would ask you to explain this instant.”

“Yes, well, I do know something about it, as it happens. You see, the Duchess of Ralston pointed out a thing about my charity that needed to be remedied. She explained that it was all well and good to raise money for impoverished pupils, but I must have a supply of impoverished pupils at the ready. So…I put in an advertisement for them. In the newspaper.”

“You included our address?” the countess said, looking a lot more incredulous than Madeline thought she would.

“How else might a schoolmaster with an impoverished pupil respond by letter?” she asked.

The countess turned. “Mr. Penny, when you place an advertisement for staff, what address do you submit? It cannot be our own as we have never had a scene like the one I have just viewed.”

Mr. Penny cleared his throat. “I do not include any address. I describe the location as a fashionable square and then I pick up the responses at the newspaper’s offices.”

“Nobody told me that part!” Madeline said. Really, she supposed she ought to have read a newspaper’s advertisements to get the hang of the thing. She likely would have noticed that all the addresses listed were the newspaper’s own.

She sidled up to the window and lifted the curtain just enough to get a peek out of doors.

There was a line going halfway round the square. There were all sorts in that line. Some did indeed look as if they might be schoolmasters. Others, though, seemed decidedly on the rough side of things. There were a few she would have crossed to the other side of the street to avoid—their clothes were dirty and they looked around them with an expression she could only describe as shifty.

“How can we make them go away, Mr. Penny?” the countess asked. “They must be made to go away before the earl sees them. He will go positively mad.”

“Mama, certainly, most of them must be chased away, but there will be some among them that are schoolmasters with impoverished pupils. Who knows how far they have traveled to speak to me about them.”

“Have you entirely lost your wits?” her mother said. “Do you imagine that any of those people will set foot in this house? What on earth were you planning? Did you imagine that you, as a young unwed lady, would blithely conduct interviews with strange men?”

Madeline had imagined that, actually. Naturally, she’d planned that Mr. Penny or a footman would remain in the room for propriety’s sake. She had also imagined that only one or two, or maybe three, educated and gentlemanly schoolmasters would turn up and the business would be concluded very easily.

Looking at it now, that seemed rather na?ve.

“Might I make a suggestion, my lady?” Mr. Penny asked.

“Please do,” the countess said, staring at her daughter.

“I presume that anyone who is legitimately a schoolmaster responding to the advertisement will have brought with him his credentials and references in writing. Those other fellows, and I do think I speak of most of them, who have other reasons for turning up, will not have prepared so thoroughly.”

“I am not certain I care who is legitimate and who is not,” the countess said. “The whole situation is absurd.”

“Perhaps I might go out with the footmen and announce that written materials only will be accepted and everyone is to take their leave?” Mr. Penny proposed.

“Oh do say yes, Mama,” Madeline said. “It is a very sensible idea. As well, the Duchess of Ralston did really recommend that I discover a way to uncover more impoverished pupils.”

“That dowager,” the countess muttered. “Fine. Just get them all away as quick as you can, Mr. Penny. We will already have caused a deal of talk.” Then the countess’ tone lowered. “Furthermore, if there is anything in writing, it will be placed in my hands alone.”

Madeline was at once pleased that at least she might discover if there were any real schoolmasters just now outside her house, and leery of her mother’s comment about causing talk.

It was, of course, a very unusual sight. People did always like to talk about an unusual sight.

But then, what would they speculate about it? There could be any number of reasons why a line of men of such varying appearances might appear outside of a person’s house. She could not think of those reasons at this very moment, but certainly they existed.

Mr. Penny had hurried from the room and it was not a moment before she heard the front door close. She peered out and watched the butler go down the line of men.

“Step away from the window, if you please, Madeline.”

Madeline reluctantly dropped the curtain. She had no wish to further aggravate her mother, as the countess was very cross at the moment.

“My girl, what have you been thinking?” the countess asked. “It is almost as if you are determined to ruin your chances at making a good match.” The countess paused. “Is that it? Is this some ridiculous plan so that you might return to Norfolk and continue teaching at that school?”

“No, of course it is not,” Madeline said. How would her mother ever come to such an idea? Had she been so inappropriate that it appeared she was attempting to ruin herself?

No, that could not be.

“I cannot imagine what will be said about this,” the countess said. “How are we to explain such a circumstance?”

“What could be said about it? Certainly nothing terrible,” Madeline asked.

The countess swallowed one of her sighs. “That will be dependent on the creativity and imagination of the talkers. If it is like most gossip where little is positively known, various theories will spring up. One of them will take hold and become the facts of the story. It will be quite cemented. God only knows what shape and form this will take.”

Madeline had not considered that people might just make things up. “Perhaps we ought to just put the truth about?” she asked.

“I am not certain the truth is something we would wish to get about—my daughter invited any and all comers to the house. She had plans to singlehandedly interview dozens of strange men.”

“Mama,” Madeline said, “the truth is I had a good idea, but my execution was lacking. I simply did not understand how to phrase the advertisement.”

“It was never a good idea,” the countess said, exasperated.

Madeline did not answer. There was no use in arguing when her mother’s mind was so set.

She really did not feel that she’d committed any crime. Though, the idea of stories being made up about it did give her pause. Ladies had been entirely ruined over stories that were never true.

It was occasionally whispered in her neighborhood that Miss Wright, a spinster of some forty years, had missed out on marriage to a viscount from Dorset on account of a story being told. Another lady informed the viscount that Miss Wright was already engaged to a soldier, but it was all a great secret. The viscount promptly wed that other lady, the teller of tales.

It was said that the truth eventually came out and all three of the people involved ended miserable. Miss Wright never wed anyone, the viscount deeply regretted his mistake, and the other lady was disdained by her lord forevermore.

But certainly, nothing so terrible would happen in this case. Certainly.