Penelope walked over to her friend and embraced her. They had not seen one another for a fortnight, as Bridget had been out of town. The two of them had been the very best of friends for many years, after meeting at a ball in the assembly rooms.
“What a darling gown,” Bridget gushed.
Penelope looked down at herself and smiled. She was wearing a sky-blue gown made of Dhaka muslin. A very fine material. She felt as though she was going to a ball rather than having tea with her dearest friend. But then again, her father was always exceedingly generous when it came to her wardrobe.
Penelope possessed the most extensive wardrobe in the entire county of Oxfordshire, of that she was sure.
“Thank you so much, yours is ever so lovely, too.”
The two made their way into the garden and took their seats at the table. Penelope sent off for the tea and tray of sweetmeats and turned her attention back to her friend.
“Tell me all about Bath. Did you have a marvelous time?”
Bridget shrugged. “Bath was pleasant as always, but the company,” she grimaced and shook her head. “Dreadful, so dreadful. There was not an eligible bachelor in sight.”
Penelope frowned. “That is unfortunate. I thought Bath was full of eligible bachelors this time of year.”
Bridget nodded. “Indeed, that is what happened in years past. However, it just so happens that some Duke’s daughter was having her coming out ball in London right in the middle of my time in Bath. Thus, most of the eligible lords descended upon London instead.” She sighed heavily and picked up the cup of tea which had just been served. She tilted her head from side to side and Penelope could see that there was more to tell than had thus far been divulged.
“Do not hold back, Bridget. Please, you know I live vicariously through you, given how I am not able to travel myself due to Father’s health.” Her friend’s expression changed at this.
Gone was her cheer from her bright green eyes. Her heart-shaped mouth turned into a line as she pressed her lips together.
“Faith, Penny. You know me better than anyone. Yes, it is true I have kept something from you. There was one eligible Lord, the Earl of Peterborough. We danced together in the Upper assembly room and it was most romantic. Oh la, he was ever so charming.”
“But that is wonderful news! Why are you not happy? Is he from far away?”
She shook her head once more and reached for a piece of marzipan, holding it between her thumb and index finger.
“No, not at all. He is from Devon, not that far away. However, as it turns out, he thought me a lady of theton. Somehow or another he had heard anon-ditthat that I was the daughter of a Marquess, not the daughter of a merchant. Once he found out, he did not give me the time of day.”
“Horsefeathers!” Penelope shook her head. “That is an outrage. Does he not know who your father is?”
“You are such a dear, Penny. Unfortunately, my father’s reputation does not reach as far and wide as that of a peer of the realm.” She shrugged and popped a piece of marzipan into her mouth. She chewed as a forlorn expression crossed her face.
Penelope could hardly contain her anger. Still, she knew it was true. Bridget was not a lady of thetonand her father not a member of the House of Lords. In fact, he was a mere merchant. However, his wealth far exceeded that of any Lord in Oxfordshire, given that his trade was in diamonds. It was this, her father’s great wealth and well-known reputation in the area, that had allowed Penelope and Bridget to become such close friends.
Under ordinary circumstances, her father would have never encouraged a friendship between her and a merchant’s daughter. The Duke’s name alone opened many doors for Bridget, and everyone in Banbury and the surrounding areas treated her as though she were a lady. However, Penelope had to admit that such a reputation would likely not reach all the way to Bath.
“I am so sorry, Bridget. But rest assured, soon enough you will meet an eligible young man. I am sure you will wed into the aristocracy. Yes, you will be a proper lady soon, I declare!”
Bridget swallowed and chuckled.
“I really hope so, Penny. Alas, I am growing discouraged.”
Penelope shook her head. “Then let me help you. I have offered many a time and you have never agreed. You know I have helped many young ladies make a wonderful match. And I can do the same for you.”
While Penelope was not interested in marriage herself, since losing her heart to Daniel at such a young age, she loved nothing more than making matches for her friends and acquaintances. To date she was solely responsible for the happy marriages of no fewer than four ladies in two years.
Bridget looked at her uncomfortably. “I know you are a gifted matchmaker. However, I do not think it would be proper for me to take your help. You are a lady, after all, and I am not. Would it not be terribly unseemly?”
“Certainly not!” A voice rose behind them. Penelope turned around and saw her father standing there; his weight resting on a carved oak cane. Beside him was Mr. Percival, the estate steward.
“Forgive the intrusion, Miss Hughes, but I could not help overhear. As the highest ranking peer in Oxfordshire, let me assure you there is nothing at all wrong with you taking up the assistance of my daughter in order to secure a match befitting of your father.”
He looked at the steward. “Don’t you agree Mr. Percival, old chum?” The steward, a regal-looking man in his 60s, nodded with an encouraging smile.
“Yes, Your Grace. I fully concur. The aristocracy would be blessed to have a fine lady such as Miss Hughes join its ranks. I say aim for a young Earl, or perhaps a Viscount.”
