“Then we should do something special tonight,” Lilly said while wrapping the infant tightly in his soft blanket. “Wait a few more days, Penelope, and I will plan a going away supper for you! I’ll feel horrible if you leave without a party first.”
Penelope shook her head. “You have far more important things to concern yourself with than a silly dinner party for me. Besides, I think I’m going to try to get to sleep early tonight.” She couldn’t stand the thought of having to be civil to a roomful of Lilly’s guests. Normally, Penelope enjoyed socializing, but this was not a normal time for her at all. She already longed for the cool sheets of her bed. She’d never realized that her current condition would cause her to feel so tired. A nap just now sounded heavenly. And if she were left alone, she could have a good cry as well.
Lilly looked disappointed but not overly so. Right now, all Lilly’s energies were focused upon being a mother. She did not really wish to hold a dinner party. She was simply being kind.
A mother.
The thought was nearly enough to summon those tears again.
She desperately needed to find Danbury.
Later. She would track him down and all would be well.
But first, she needed that nap.
* * *
The road heading north was not a well-maintained one. And with the intermittent snowflakes along the way, the driver seemed to move at a snail’s pace, making the journey more exhausting than usual. Even Rose’s spirits flagged by the time they drove through Manchester.
They had been traveling for just over a week and the inns they had stopped at had not been nearly as comfortable as the lodgings Penelope usually patronized. She’d never traveled this far north, so, not trusting her driver to obtain the best directions, she’d discussed their route with every innkeeper along the way. Aside from riding up top with her driver, however, she was forced to trust that he could get them to Danbury’s estate. She would not relish having to travel additional miles unnecessarily.
She’d not heard any positive comments about Augusta Heights. The recent years’ crops had gotten smaller and smaller, and the estate itself now employed few villagers. Penelope’s understanding was that the steward had gradually put them all off, either by failing to pay fair wages or failing to pay at all. Sitting in the open dining area with Rose the evening before, Penelope had collected all sorts of information by merely eavesdropping.
Viscount Danbury’s massive estate ought to have been a positive economic force for the small villages nearby. Augusta Heights, it seemed, was instead a scapegoat for all that was wrong.
She was more certain than ever that Danbury required her assistance.
The coach jerked as they turned onto a long drive. The smaller road had even more ruts and holes in it than the road before. Penelope slid across the bench into Rose as the carriage tilted a little and then righted itself.
“Thank God,” Rose echoed Penelope’s own sentiments. “I don’t believe I could have tolerated another day on this godforsaken road.”
Penelope peered out the window. Even during the tail end of winter, it was painfully obvious that the landscaping had been completely overcome by wild vines and shrubbery. The road had nearly been overtaken as well.
And then there was the manor in the distance.
It was… slightly lopsided. Yes, that was the problem. Danbury was going to need an engineer to come and take a look at the foundation. It desperately needed repair.
Broken windows riddled the upper floors, and one of the chimneys appeared to have caught fire sometime in the past.
She could only imagine what condition the interior was in.
They rolled along for a few more minutes, bouncing and creaking, until at last they came to a stop in front of the crumbling steps leading up to the main house.
Penelope did not wait for one of the outriders to set down the step for her. She pushed the door open herself and jumped out onto the ground. Rose waited graciously for the groomsman to pull out the step before accepting his hand as he assisted her down from the conveyance.
Penelope was looking about curiously when a potbellied gentleman opened the front door and ambled down the steps. The man’s skin was a sallow yellow color, and his jowls swayed from side to side as he walked. He did not look happily upon the new visitors.
“Are you lost, madam?” he shouted as he approached her. “You must have taken a wrong turn a ways back.”
“I am not, and no, we have not taken a wrong turn. Who might I ask are you, sir?” If this man was Danbury’s steward, it would explain the comments she’d heard about the estate. He was puffed up full of his own self-importance and yet his shirt was soiled, and his pants needed mending. The yellowness of his skin indicated he imbibed more than was healthy and the additional flesh on his person that he ate more food than his share.
“I am Mr. Matthew Periwinkle, steward of Augusta Heights. Who might you be, madam?”
Penelope lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes at the pitiful man. “I am Miss Penelope Crone, daughter to Baron Riverton. My driver and outrider will be utilizing your stable.” She glanced over at the tumble-down condition of the building in question. “And my maid and I shall require superior accommodations as well. Please inform the viscount that we are arrived.”
The end was all bluster on her part, but it was obvious that this man needed to be put in his place. She was of half a mind to sack him herself, for when he’d gotten nearer to her, she smelled whiskey on his breath.
Which, considering recent events, was more than a little unnerving.
