Penelope Mistress of the ManorChapter 3
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I leaned back, to ease the sore muscles in my back and knees. But I couldn't keep my eye from the spy hole for long. I had to hear the story too. As I peered once again through the hole in the wall, this is what I heard.
"Once upon a time there was a girl who had an uncle. She loved him very much, because he knew her better than anyone else in her family. He was kind to her, and answered her questions. He assured her she was pretty, when she doubted that. When others ignored her, she sat on his lap and he hugged her and kissed her and told her stories."
I saw that Cynthia had leaned forward a bit. She was listening carefully.
"This girl had many sisters, and because they were older, and prettier, no one paid any attention to the girl. And time passed, until the girl was old enough that men thought her too old to take as a wife. She was saddened greatly, but her uncle told her not to worry, and that he would love her and take care of her. She wanted to marry her uncle, but of course that was forbidden." She paused for a second, and then astonished me by facing my peephole, briefly, and winking!
"And love her he did."
Penny leaned forward and whispered the next line of her story.
"In ways most people would believe were wicked and sinful."
She leaned back and spoke normally again.
"But the girl didn't care, because she loved her uncle, and she loved the time they spent together."
She paused for a handful of heartbeats.
"And then everyone was surprised. An elder Lord's wife had died, and he wished to marry. He hadn't much to offer a woman, but the girl was a drain on her father's estate, and marrying her off would solve both the Lord's problem, and her father's. And that is what happened. She was torn from the uncle she so desperately loved, the only man she had ever loved, and was sent off to become the wife of a man she didn't even know."
She sat, letting the girl reflect on the "story" for a bit, waiting patiently.
"Why have you told me this story, Milady?" asked Cynthia, finally.
"Such a girl might understand why you feel the kind of sadness and loss you endure," said Penny.
"But why would you confess something that could undo you and this house, if it came to light?"
"I confessed nothing," said Penny. "I simply told you a story. You might recall I said it was a fictional story."
As a butler, I am well aware of political wrangling, and how politics can sometimes twist language to suit its needs. I recognized instantly what Penny was doing. I couldn't begin to fathom why she was doing it, and was severely puzzled, but at least I realized she was saying one thing, while meaning another. Further, I expected Cynthia didn't understand analogy at all. She was an untutored, simple servant, after all. I was almost astonished, therefore, at the girl's response.
"And now you wish me to tell you a story as well?"
As I said, Cynthia was a bright girl. Untutored ... but bright.
"I want you to tell me only what you are willing to tell me," said Penny. "I'm simply saying that your situation may not be as unusual, or hard to understand, as you believe it to be, and that I might be able to commiserate with you. I will be honest. I intend to find husbands for all the girls in this manor. That needs to happen if the people here are to have normal, happy lives, and will want to stay."
"I can't marry the man I want to marry," said Cynthia.
"Neither could the girl in the story," said Penelope.
"But her story ended horribly," said the girl. I winced.
"Not necessarily," said Penny. "It may not have gone the way she most preferred it would, but that does not mean she couldn't be happy."
"Are you happy, Milady?" asked Cynthia.
The subterfuge was dropped.
"I am not miserable," said Penny. "What's more important, I think I can be quite happy here. The story isn't finished yet. I think it is quite possible I might even be able to realize all my dreams."
"All of them?"
"Yes ... all of them ... as I think your dreams might be fulfilled as well."
"My dream can never be fulfilled," sighed Cynthia.
"We could try," said Penny. "Are you willing to try?"
"My heart wants to, but my mind says it would be a waste of time," said the girl. "I know you are trying to be kind. I don't know why you are trying to be kind, but the truth is that no one would allow me to fulfill my dream."
"His Lordship is all powerful on this estate," said Penny. "After him, I am next. You have no idea what I might allow. If the girl I spoke of lived here, I would not quail at allowing her uncle to visit her."
The subterfuge was back on again.
"And how would you arrange that?"
"If the house were full of life and activity, and there was much ado as people went about their business, the upper rooms would be opened again, and he could be invited to visit the manor from time to time. She might even be expected to entertain him while he was visiting."
I saw the first signs of shock on Cynthia's face.
"You would do that?"
"I find no fault in the girl for loving her uncle," said Penny. "It is an honest love, despite its disapproved nature. And those who would disapprove of that love do not live upon the estate, so I do not place great concern on their opinions."
"What of the others who do live here?" asked Cynthia. "Might they object?"
Penny leaned back in her chair.
"You might be surprised, Cynthia. You might be quite surprised."
"You mean they would not object? I find that an astonishing proposition."
"If I assure you it is true ... will you tell me a story?"
There was a long pause as the girl reflected.
"A story as fictional in nature as yours?" she asked softly. Her voice was still guarded, but not heavily.
"Precisely," replied the mistress.
I knew Cynthia was wondering if she could trust this strange woman. I suspect she evaluated all that had passed since she walked through the door to that chamber. That process would convince anyone that Penelope was not the average mistress of the average manor. In fact, there was nothing average about Her Ladyship at all. Then again, it's quite possible that the hope Penny held out to the poor girl turned her head.
"There once was a girl, whose mother died while giving birth to her," said Cynthia softly.
And then I leaned against the wall, riveted, as her astonishing story came out.
It wasn't until Cynthia finished, and hung her head, unable to look directly at her mistress, that I received the critical information that explained everything.
"Thank you," Penny said to her servant. "When I saw you greet him in the parlor this afternoon, I knew you were in terrible pain. He is too."
Cynthia's head came up, and her clear eyes pinned themselves on her Lady.
"I do not believe this pain is the lingering result of your mother's death. It has been too long. I suspected the kind of bond you told me of, but I needed you to surrender the information of your own free will. Neither of you deserves to live in this kind of agony. I was not prevaricating, Cynthia. We must determine some way that will satisfy your needs, and his, and those of the estate as well. You are right. You cannot marry the man you love. But I am married to a man I do not love, and that is not stopping me from pursuing my dreams. I must require you to wed."
The girl raised her hands, and her face registered her opposition, but Penny shushed her.
"Secrets like yours and mine must be kept from most. Have you ever seen how men dress when they stalk the deer? They wear clothing that blends in with the forest, so the deer may not see them. And that is what we must do, you and I ... and some few others."
She didn't explain about the incestuous activities of her maids, or Jane. I knew what she was referring to, of course, but she wasn't ready for Cynthia to know of these things yet.
"And your marriage is part of the disguise you will require to conclude your hunt successfully," she said. Cynthia was quiet now, simply listening. "I will tell you this. I am expected to bear His Lordship an heir, but his age and his deep interest in rum prevents him from doing his part. So I must look elsewhere to find a man who can swell my belly. This means I must be married to one man, while I lie with another."
The girl had the decency to be shocked, but she did not decry her lady.
"I could stay here, childless until His Lordship dies, and then be thrown off the estate, to wander, homeless and destitute. I suppose I could support myself as a washer woman. What think you of that plan?"
Cynthia didn't speak, but only shook her head, as anyone would. Well ... anyone but the priest and his ilk. They would shake their heads sadly, and then say it was God's will that she be penniless, homeless and reduced to something like that.
"I think that an inadequate plan as well," said Penny. "And so I am doing something about it. No one would approve, but I do what I must to chase my dreams. You are in the same situation. No one would approve of what you desire, but you may be able to do something about it anyway. I am willing to help you, but you must help me at the same time. And that means being married, so that the children you produce will be of no special interest to those outsiders."
"My father will never consent to my dream. Why do you think he sent me here, and visits me so rarely?" said the girl. "When I tell him how much I miss him, and that I want him back, and want to live with him, all he says is that this cannot be."
"Let me handle your father," said the mistress of the manor, whose voice was suddenly noble again. "He is my concern. As I am interested in your welfare, so that you stay here and raise a family, I am interested in his welfare too. What I need now is your trust, and your pledge to honor my wishes, understanding that while you may not share them at all times, they are ultimately intended to bring happy resolution to your problem. Will you do that for me?"
The girl sat, hunched over. Then she straightened. "I think you must be very different from other nobles."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"I think not. It is hard to comprehend. But I am miserable already. I doubt you could make me more so. I accept. I place myself in your hands, and hope for a happier future."
I leaned back from the wall. Penelope had conquered this girl without even touching her, or having a male do so either! Her powers, both of observation and conniving persuasion, were incredible!
She left me in awe of her talents.
Apparently Cynthia's problem - that she yearned to marry her own father - was difficult enough that it would take some time and scheming for Her Ladyship to arrange. If she could. I doubted that little disaster could be brought to fruition.
In the meantime, Suzette was elected to join the ranks of the fallen.
Suzette came to us as a waif. Our prior lady had been in the village market one day when Suzette, then but five years old, attempted to steal an apple. She had been caught and was being beaten by the costermonger, a man named Hicks, who offered his produce at a rough table in the square. Our old mistress had been a dour and unhappy woman, but there resided in her heart a measure of mercy. She commanded Hicks to stop, and took the girl home, to make a servant of her. The girl claimed she had no parents. She had apparently been living hand-to-mouth for some time. That had been ten years ago, and not once had any one come forward to claim that their child had been lost or stolen.
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