Chapter 28

"Your Grace, are you all right?" Charlotte inquired worriedly the moment she entered Penelope's chamber.

Penelope was standing in front of the looking glass, not even dressed. She was still in her robe, feeling frozen in time and space. She couldn't move, she couldn't bring herself to start doing anything. Her long hair was flowing down her back. She looked as if she had just gotten up from bed although it was late in the afternoon, and she was supposed to get ready for the dinner party at her parents' place, the same dinner party that was to celebrate her sister's return.

Celebrate.

The word brought her so much distress that she felt her entire stomach tie up into a knot. Everything about this evening was wrong. It was offensive, almost.

"I'm fine, Lottie," she said, not wishing to dwell on it. She couldn't escape the maelstrom of her own thoughts, but she didn't want to trouble her lady's maid with it.

Charlotte closed the door behind her, walking slowly over to her and standing behind her so that they had their gazes locked in the reflection of the looking glass.

"You aren't fine, Your Grace." Charlotte refused to believe any such lie, speaking with tenderness as well as reverence as always. "You are far from it. If you do not wish to discuss it, that is fine, but I want you to know that I do not believe a single word of that, Your Grace. You will have to be much more convincing than this if you do not wish His Grace to notice anything."

Penelope sighed. Charlotte was right. She could see her own face in the reflection, looking back at her, revealing frustration, anger, concern, and a myriad of other negative emotions. Perhaps if she opened up to Charlotte about Vanessa, she would endure this dinner party better?

"I really don't want to go," Penelope said in the words of a spoiled child. Only, she had a good reason not to want to go.

"Why not?" Charlotte inquired curiously. "Your sister is back."

Penelope frowned. "And with her, trouble is back, too."

Charlotte lifted an eyebrow. "Perhaps she has returned a changed woman in that case?"

Penelope couldn't help but chuckle at that incredulous suggestion. Such a thing was not possible.

"All Vanessa has ever considered in life is herself and her own needs," Penelope clarified. "It has been like that from the moment I came into this world. She has never been a sister in the true sense of the word. Adeline, my younger sister, is the only one who cares about me in my family." She smiled, scoffing. "It actually feels strange to call them my family. James and Grandfather and you, Charlotte, have been more of a family to me in this short period of time than they have for the duration of my entire life."

Charlotte smiled. "Sometimes, we are fortunate enough to choose our family."

"Indeed, dear Charlotte." Penelope agreed. "That is why I am so reluctant to leave this beautiful home and go… there. Even if it is only for several hours."

"It is just a dinner, Your Grace," Charlotte reminded her. "And you will be there with your husband, the man who loves you and whom you love."

Penelope blushed at the mention of love. The truth was that neither of them had yet admitted such deep emotions. She was in no rush to have those words said. They would come when the time was right. And in the meantime, she would enjoy the path that led to that destination.

Charlotte walked over to the wardrobe and chose a fitting gown. It was a beautiful shade of peach with shimmery details on the lace around the neckline and on the sleeves. She proceeded to place it against Penelope, showing her what it would look like.

"You will look stunning tonight, Your Grace," she said. "This gown looks as if it was made for you."

"Thank you, Lottie," Penelope managed a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You always know how to make me feel beautiful."

Charlotte proceeded to bustle around her mistress, helping her put on the gown, carefully selecting the jewelry, and adjusting the folds. Although Penelope was warmed by Charlotte's encouraging words, the evening's dinner party loomed ahead, and it filled Penelope with a mix of dread and resignation.

Charlotte picked up a brush and began gently working through Penelope's hair, preparing it for an elaborate style. Penelope couldn't stop thinking about Vanessa and what her return would bring.

Growing up, Penelope was always seeking her parents' approval, trying to earn their love, but no matter what she did, it was never enough. They always had their own plans and ambitions, and they never involved Penelope. Vanessa had been the most important child. The golden child. So, her running away was a big blow to her parents. But now that she was back, everything would go back to the way it was. Only Penelope didn't care any longer.

Charlotte was standing behind Penelope, clearly attuned to her mistress' distraught state of mind.

"Let's start with a few loose curls at the front to frame your beautiful face, Your Grace," she spoke tenderly as her fingers deftly worked through the Penelope's soft hair. She carefully separated sections lifting them gently to ensure that they fell just right. Her touch was light yet precise, certainly from years of skill and experience.

Penelope watched in the mirror as Charlotte worked, her movements sure and graceful. She couldn't help but focus on Charlotte's fingers instead of her own troubled thoughts.

"Your hair is so lovely, Your Grace," Charlotte commented as she worked. "It is such a pleasure to style it."

"Thank you, Lottie," Penelope replied, appreciating her friend's concern as well as expertise. Usually, Charlotte didn't speak much while she was doing Penelope's hair. This was different. She sensed that Penelope needed a distraction, and she knew exactly what to do.

Next, Charlotte began gathering the remaining hair at the back of Penelope's hair. She twisted and pinned sections into a loose chignon, allowing a few tendrils to escape and cascade down naturally. The style was elegant, yet effortless, perfectly suiting Penelope's understated beauty. With each pin placed, Charlotte took a moment to step back and assess her work, adjusting the placement to achieve the desired look. She tucked a few small sprigs of delicate flowers into the chignon, adding a touch of whimsy and softness.

"Hold still for just a moment, Your Grace," Charlotte instructed, adjusting one last bit of loose hair. "All done."

Penelope looked at her reflection, marveling at how Charlotte had transformed her hair into a work of art. The curls framed her face perfectly, and the chignon added a touch of sophistication.

"Thank you, Lottie," she said gratefully. "You've done a marvelous job as always."

"It is my pleasure," Charlotte replied, pleased with both her work and Penelope's reaction. "You are now ready to face the evening, and you'll undoubtedly be the most beautiful lady there."

Strangely enough, Penelope felt a renewed sense of confidence and hope at her friend's words.

Perhaps it would be just a dinner, she thought to herself.

She got up, turning to Charlotte and taking her hands into her own, squeezing them gently. "Thank you so much, Charlotte. Your friendship and your kindness mean more to me than you could ever imagine."

Next, Penelope took a deep breath, readying herself. She descended the grand staircase, each step echoing softly in the opulent hall, mirroring the loud beating of her heart. The delicate rustle of her gown mingled with the quiet hum of evening activity in the manor. As she reached the bottom of the staircase, her eyes found James waiting for her.

She drank in the sight of him as he was standing near the foot of the staircase, impeccably dressed in a dark tailcoat and a crisp white cravat. The soft lighting of the hall cast a warm glow over his handsome features, highlighting his strong jawline and the intensity of his gaze. He looked every bit the dashing gentleman, and Penelope couldn't help but think how handsome he was.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. James' eyes locked onto hers, and a slow smile spread across his face as he took in her appearance.

"Penelope," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "You look absolutely breathtaking."

Penelope felt a blush rise to her cheeks, his words making her heart aflutter. "Thank you, James. You look very handsome yourself," she replied, her voice soft but sincere.

James extended his hand to her, and she placed her gloved hand in his. "Shall we?" he asked, his eyes never leaving hers.

Penelope nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her at his touch. They headed towards the carriage, stepping out into the cold, evening air. The coachman, standing dutifully by the door, tipped his hat when he saw them approach. James helped Penelope into the carriage, his hand steady and reassuring. She settled onto the plush seat, smoothing her gown as James climbed in after her and closed the door behind them.

As the carriage started to move, Penelope glanced at James, their proximity in the enclosed space making her heart beat a little faster. She couldn't imagine this man being married to her sister now. He was her husband, and she was proud of that. Fate brought him onto her path completely by accident, but it was exactly as Grandfather had told her. Fate had a way of making things happen as they were supposed to happen.

"Penelope?" she heard him call out her name. "Are you all right?"

She smiled reassuringly. "Yes… much better now," she assured him.

"I'm glad to hear that," he replied.

They didn't speak much, but still, the silence didn't feel suffocating. On the contrary, it felt liberating. She loved being able to just be in someone's presence and not fill that space with words. She breathed softly, slowly, just appreciating him by her side without any words being exchanged.

The carriage ride seemed to pass quickly even without them conversing. Soon, they were approaching her parents' grand estate. That was when she felt nervous again. Her stomach clenched angrily, as if she had eaten something too spicy, and now, it was settling inside the pit of her belly like an angry beast. She tried not to let it show.

As the carriage came to a halt, James stepped out first, turning to help her down. She took his hand, her nerves momentarily forgotten in the comfort of his touch. She looked up at her parents' home. The house was illuminated with lanterns, casting a shimmery glow over the manicured gardens and the imposing fa?ade. It was truly a celebration. That was, at least, what her parents wanted everyone to believe, but she knew better.

Her heart pounded in her chest, knowing that the evening would be a challenge. However, she felt strangely ready.