Free Penelope by Anya Wylde

use?
    Unfortunately,
Lady Bathsheba had other ideas. She nudged the door open with her
peachy nose and ran out.
    Horrified,
Penelope rushed out after her into the hallway.
    “Stop, Lady
Bathsheba, stop. You come back here now or I won’t give you a
single carrot ever again,” Penelope whispered, hobbling after the
goat. The shooting pain in her leg was making it difficult for her
to walk, let alone run.
    Lady Bathsheba
took no notice and raced onwards. She ran down the long corridor,
galloped up a flight of stairs, hurried down the hallway, scurried
up a second flight of stairs, and arrived at her destination. She
disappeared into a room on the right.
    Penelope stared
at the door which was slightly ajar. It was a massive door, and if
a door could look manly, then this one did. She felt an urge to
giggle and shoved a fist into her mouth. If anyone found her
lurking in the corridor in the middle of the night laughing
hysterically to herself because she thought a door looked manly,
she would be off to a madhouse before she could say picaroon ever
again. She bit down on her hand and forced herself to calm
down.
     A minute
went by, and when Lady Bathsheba did not emerge, Penelope
cautiously approached the door and stuck her ear to the crack. She
strained to hear a single sound that could enlighten her as to who
or what was behind the door. She heard nothing and her piteous
calls to Lady Bathsheba were ignored.
    She took a deep
breath and dropped down on all fours. She nudged the door open and
peeked in.
    A candle burned
somewhere in the room and the light was dim. It was a bedroom with
a large bed at the centre. A lump on the bed indicated that someone
was asleep. Penelope smothered a squeal and got ready to back up
out of the room when she noticed Lady Bathsheba’s white tail
sticking out of the wardrobe.
    Penelope
hesitated. Should she wait outside or drag the goat out? What if
Lady Bathsheba started baaing? She could wait outside, but she had
no idea what the time was and when the occupant of the room arose.
What if the person found Lady Bathsheba before she did? She
couldn’t afford to upset anyone in the household any further.
    What if the
occupant was Sir Henry Woodville and he ordered the chef to cook
her goat?
    This last
thought decided her and she entered the room. She crawled on
account of her painful ankle. Besides, it was easier to be sneaky
on all fours. She made her way towards the wardrobe, grateful that
the floor was thickly carpeted. Her heart thundered as she neared
her goal.
    She stared at
the goat’s behind. The white stubby tail swished back and forth.
She could lunge at the goat and pick her up and run, except her
foot may give way and the noise would definitely wake the unknown
person. She had no choice but to coax the blasted animal out. She
softly patted the goat on the back.
    Lady Bathsheba
poked her head out and glanced at Penelope inquiringly. She held a
piece of cloth in her mouth.
    Penelope lunged
and grasped the end of the cloth. Thereafter, a silent tug of war
ensued. Lady Bathsheba held on to the cloth with her teeth and
tugged while Penelope, using all her might, pulled.
    Penelope
finally won, but before she could grab the goat by the neck, Lady
Bathsheba had disappeared into the wardrobe again and emerged with
another piece of cloth.
    Penelope
emitted a soft moan of frustration. She glared at the goat and then
glanced at the cloth she had managed to save. Her eyes grew large
in horror. For the first time in her life she beheld, good lord… a
man’s underthing.
    She flung it
away, and then stared first at her hand and then at the cloth. Had
she just held Sir Henry’s … She squeezed her eyes shut and scrubbed
her palms on her skirts.
    She eyed Lady
Bathsheba reproachfully while the goat sat chewing contently. She
had a curious feeling that the other cloth hanging out of the
goat’s mouth was also of the same type.
    “Lady Bathsheba
that is … that is very undignified. You cannot be