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Even as she did, the footman was right there beside her, offering her his hand with a smile. Though he looked fairly young, Penelope would have guessed that he couldn’t be less than her own age of nineteen.
Having spent so much time with much older people on the ship, she wasn’t sure if someone her own age might be able to see right through her. Older people seemed to look right past her, only seeing what they wanted to see, believing that she was Lady St Clair merely because she looked like her at a glance. Yet this young man looked at her far more intently that anyone else had all week, and it uneased Penelope for a moment.
She could not linger on it for very long as the older woman who had been with the footman stepped up with a curtsey and smiled at her. “Lady St Clair, we have been sent to escort you to the townhouse.”
She then turned to the footman and instructed, “Please fetch Lady St Clair’s things from the ship. We shall await you in the carriage.”
“Oh … no, that’s not necessary,” Penelope blurted. Heat rose instantly to her cheeks, and she guessed that she must have looked like the most ripened tomato there ever was. Thinking quickly on her feet, she added, “My things did not quite make it to the docks in time before departure. They shall be following on the next ship.”
I have to get out of here!she thought, knowing that every moment she remained there she was risking being caught, risking them figuring it all out. The thought of being arrested on English soil after already having come so far, never being able to see the beautiful country her mother had talked about so often, was almost unbearable.
“Ahh, very well.” The woman smiled at her, and Penelope struggled not to gawk at how easily she had taken her word for it. Even now, after almost a week of pretending to be her mistress, she was still not used to being believed. “Please, My Lady, follow me to the carriage, and we shall take you to the townhouse.”
“I … umm …” Penelope stuttered, pursing her lips as she tried desperately to come up with some kind of excuse not to go with the woman. But before she knew it, the black-clad woman hooked her arm into hers and guided her down the dockside towards a group of carriages.
“Please, lean on me, My Lady,” the woman insisted as they walked, “I am sure it will take you several minutes to get your land legs back after so long on the ship.”
Penelope had to admit that the woman was right. After so long being tossed about on the waves, it was odd to feel solid ground beneath her feet again. Her legs were like jelly, and her feet didn’t appear to want to move in the way she wanted them to. Several times she found herself stumbling over a raised cobble in the floor and tripping over thin air once or twice.
By the time they reached the carriage and she was urged inside, she was more than a little relieved for a chance to sit and regain her wits. The woman helped her in and allowed her to get herself comfortably seated before climbing in after her.
Once the door was shut and Penelope felt the rocking of the footman jumping onto the stand at the back of the carriage, it began to move with the cracking sound of a whip. The lump in Penelope’s throat grew larger, and it became increasingly harder to breathe as she realised she was once more trapped on the journey that the real Clara St Clair should have been taking in a week’s time.
Just breathe,she told herself over and over, playing with a loose thread on her gown, the same gown she had been wearing and patch washing throughout the entire voyage across the English Channel.Stay calm and bide your time.
Soon she would find a moment to slip away, and then she could forget this whole sorry thing ever happened. Maybe once she had regained her land legs and rested on the way to wherever they were going, she could jump out of the carriage and run.
She didn’t know where to, but anywhere was better than here where every moment made her feel as though her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. She was amazed at just how much her heart could beat while wearing such a tight and uncomfortable gown.
She would be pleased when she could finally get out of it and forget about being a noblewoman ever again. Playing one for a week had been by far enough for her. It had been almost as exhausting as all the chores she had been forced to do during her time in France, especially those done over the last few months since the late Comte’s death.
Yet as they rode, Penelope began to feel slightly more comfortable, especially when the elderly woman smiled and explained, “I am Mrs Cartwright, housekeeper to the Duke of Chatham, though you are welcome to call me Ada if you wish.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Cartwright,” Penelope responded, clearing her throat midway through due to the lump still refusing to budge. It made her voice croak, though to her credit, Mrs Cartwright seemed unperturbed by it. No doubt she expected the Duke of Chatham’s betrothed to be slightly nervous upon her arrival in England.She has absolutely no idea!Penelope thought, struggling to keep a handle on her nerves.
“And I you, Lady St Clair,” Mrs. Cartwright responded with a bow of her head. She smiled before adding, “You looked quite confused upon departing the ship. Are you quite well?”
“I … umm …” Penelope struggled for the right words, twisting the loose thread on her gown between her thumb and forefinger. “I admit I was not expecting to be met at …”
“Ahh, yes, of course,” Mrs Cartwright began before Penelope could finish. She shook her head and looked quite embarrassed, giving Penelope another smile.
“How silly of me. I am sure you were expecting the Duke of Chatham to greet you himself, though I am afraid he has not quite been able to make it to London in time for your arrival.”
Though Penelope forced herself to look disappointed, scowling and allowing her lashes to fall heavily on her eyes, inside, she was jumping for joy. At least she would not have to try to convince the duke that she was who she said she was.
At least she would not have to stand on ceremony and meet the man who was to marry Clara St Clair.Oh heavens, I don’t think I could do that even if I tried!she thought, alarm flashing through her at the mere thought of it even though she already knew it would never happen. She would be long gone before the duke ever arrived.
She opened her mouth to ask precisely when the duke would be arriving in London, but the housekeeper beat her to it. “Lord Chatham and his sisters should be travelling from Keddleston Abbey sometime over the next couple of days. The duke had a few things he needed to finish up before traveling, and his sisters do not like to be far from his side.”
That’s a relief,she thought, though aloud she responded, “That is a shame. I was so hoping to meet them upon my arrival.”
“Yes, well, it is a good thing that Captain Cook had the good sense to send us a telegram before his departure from France.” Mrs Cartwright sighed and shook her head, looking quite disapproving of the idea that anything could have gone wrong. “If he hadn’t, we might never have known of your arrival and would have missed you entirely!”
Penelope bit her lip harder than she had anticipated and struggled to stop herself from squealing like a stuck pig. Instead, she forced a smile and assured the housekeeper, “Well, you are here now.”\
Why did the captain have to be so kind and forward-thinking?Penelope thought begrudgingly, though she was unable to remain mad at the man after how kind he had been to her during their time together on theWhite Rose.
She had to admit, however, that it was unfortunate that the captain had been so good as to telegram the duke. If he hadn’t, she might have been able to slip into England, and nobody would have been any the wiser that she was there in place of Lady Clara.
