Free Penelope by MC Beaton Page A

slurping her tea.
    “Miss Vesey?” said a tentative voice at Penelope’s ear. She looked up and saw a stocky young man with a pleasant tanned face and merry blue eyes.
    “Allow me to introduce myself,” he went on. “The name’s Manton, Guy Manton, friend of Hestleton. Roger’s coming along later, but he asked me to take care of you. They are making up a set for the quadrille, and I wondered if you would grant me the honor of a dance, Miss Vesey?”
    Penelope’s heart soared like the song of the blackbird. The Earl had not forgotten her. He had sent this charming young man to look after her and… wonder upon wonder… he would be here in person later.
    She smiled her assent and rose gracefully from her seat and allowed Mr. Manton to escort her towards a marquee in the garden which had been turned into a flower-bedecked ballroom.
    Augusta had fastened her gooseberry eyes on the large ruby winking in Mr. Manton’s stock and had given her assent with her eyes still fixed steadily on the jewel as if she were allowing the ruby rather than the wearer permission to take Penelope into the ballroom.
    Mr. Manton danced the quadrille with more enthusiasm than finesse and made Penelope laugh, when the musicians struck the last chord, by saying he was glad the awful dance was over. “The quadrille’s more suitable for a caper merchant than a gentleman,” he said roundly. “But let me get you some refreshment, Miss Vesey.”
    He led Penelope towards another marquee which contained a long buffet and a series of little tables. Unfortunately Augusta had not only found the buffet but the port wine as well. Port was drunk with everything, most of society still considering such wines as Burgundy and claret “wishy-washy stuff.” She came waddling up to them with her protruding eyes slightly glazed.
    “Ah, Mr. Manton,” she smiled while her busy brain turned over the information she had received from Miss Stride—Guy Manton, country squire and soldier, comfortable income but nothing near as much as the Earl. “So you have been looking after my little Penelope. Pretty little thing, ain’t she. All the bucks is mad about her, ain’t they, my duckie?” Here she pinched Penelope’s cheek. “Why, even the Earl of Hestleton had taken such a fancy to her as never was. It’s the good Lord looking after the orphan, that it is. Although she owes everything to her auntie and she’ll never forget it for she don’t want to be struck dead from on high. People don’t, you know.”
    Penelope’s face flamed crimson with embarrassment. Her aunt’s subdued behavior of the last few days seemed to have miraculously disappeared.
    Mr. Manton was surveying Miss Harvey with amusement. “That’s a good Christian spirit you have there, ma’am,” he said gleefully. “I gather you believe strongly in divine punishment.”
    “Of course I does,” said Augusta earnestly. “Do you know what happens to you when you go to hell?” She lowered her voice to a whisper.
    “She’s mad,” thought Penelope wildly.
    She’s glorious, thought Mr. Manton. Funniest old quiz I’ve met in years. “Go on, Miss Harvey,” he said out loud. “Do tell us all about it.”
    “It’s like this,” said Augusta, moving close to Mr. Manton. “When you die, like, if you’ve been a sinner, they takes away all your clothes, the demons do, so you’re all naked. Then they lead you to the edge of this pit and down below it’s all fire and brimstone. Then they takes their pitchforks and they shoves them right up—”
    “
Miss Harvey
!”
    Augusta turned round sulkily and then looked like a guilty child as she met the blazing eyes of Miss Stride. Having now some money in the bank had brought out all Miss Stride’s latent and forceful personality, and Augusta, like all bullies, cringed before a stronger character.
    “Miss Harvey,” said Miss Stride again in a very governess sort of voice, “I wish you to accompany me. You have not yet been introduced to