The Mysterious Howling (11 page)

“Very well, but I would prefer not to look ridiculous, if you please.” There would be no enormous cage crinolines for her, thank you! Penelope was not interested in weaving and bobbing through the party like a birdcage on a luggage trolley. She imagined something more refined, perhaps an off-the-shoulder silk with a gathered bodice and small, tasteful bustle. A shimmery deep blue would suit her well, she thought. She had never owned a garment in such an eye-catching color, but the Swanburne uniform featured a trim of navy
ribbon around the hem that Penelope had always found pleasing.

“Phht! Phht! Phht! Phht!”
One by one, the dressmaker spit her pins back into the box. Cassiopeia took this as her cue to wilt, panting, to the floor. Madame LePoint ignored the child and turned to Penelope. “Don't worry. For you I will make something ‘governessy.' That is what Lady Constance has ordered. I have her instructions written on the receipt.”

“‘Governessy'?” Penelope looked with sudden longing at the sumptuous fabrics arrayed before her. “What could that possibly mean?”

“The dress will be modest and plain. You would not want to be mistaken for one of the guests, after all.” Madame LePoint waved another fabric swatch in Penelope's direction and clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “
Alors, alors!
It makes no difference what you wear, really. I'll put you in dark gray. I believe I have some left over from a funeral.”

T
HE
T
ENTH
C
HAPTER
Too much shopping leads to an argument about thespians
.

E
XTRAORDINARILY BUSY PLACES
are often compared to beehives, and if you have ever seen the inside of a beehive, you already know why this is so.

(It is not necessary to actually set foot inside of a beehive to confirm this, by the way. They are too small and too full of bees for in-person tours to be truly convenient. But there are alternatives: One could peer inside using some sort of periscopelike magnifying device, for example. Or one could simply accept that beehives are busy and get on with it. This second option is called
“suspending one's disbelief,” and it is by far the easiest row to hoe, now and at other times, too.)

All of which is to say: During the weeks leading up to the party, Ashton Place was an absolute beehive of activity. The cleaning, decorating, and cooking proceeded around the clock. The aroma of baking breads and roasting meats mingled in the air with the scent of the waxes and oils used to polish the woodwork, and the fresh, outdoorsy smell of the pine wreaths and garlands that festooned every available surface. Red velvet ribbons were tied in prettily drooping bows around the balusters of the central staircase and great urns of scarlet poinsettia flanked the doorways. Most impressive to Penelope was the fact that each room had its very own Christmas tree, except for the ballroom, which had two—one on either end.

The actual work was done by the servants, of course, but the queen bee of all this busyness was indisputably Lady Constance. She flew from room to room in a state of nervous excitement that made her even more talkative than usual. Since Lord Ashton's time was devoted to some important business in town, it was Miss Penelope Lumley who increasingly found herself on the receiving end of her mistress's desire to chat.

In fact, Penelope had finally resumed reading “The
Wreck of the Hesperus” to the children, at the very spot where she had been interrupted during her previous attempt:

“Colder and louder blew the wind,
A gale from the Northeast,
The snow fell hissing in the brine,
And the billows frothed like yeast.”

—when, unexpected and unannounced, Lady Constance herself dropped by the nursery.

“Good morning, Miss Lumley. And—good morning, children,” she added, with a hint of nervousness. Evidently she had not forgotten the licking incident.

With no prompting at all the children sprang to their feet. “Good morning, Lady Constance,” they replied, quite nicely.

Lady Constance's golden eyebrows lifted high in surprise. “Well, that is progress! And did I just hear some mention of yeast? Are you reading a cookbook? That would be a very practical thing to study.”

The children shook their heads.

“Wreckawoo,” Beowulf explained.

“By Longfelloooo,” added Alexander.

“Hesperus!” Cassiopeia offered. It came out like a
little bark. “Hesperus! Hesperus!”

“Hmm! How very interesting all that sounds.” Lady Constance was clearly bewildered and turned to Penelope. “Miss Lumley, may I speak to you for a moment?” She went on without waiting for a reply. “I am planning a shopping expedition in town tomorrow, and I thought that you—and perhaps the children—might care to join me.”

“Arf!”
Cass jumped excitedly at the prospect, but Penelope threw her a reproving look.

“Words are better than barks, Cassiopeia,” she reminded.

“Cassawoof town, yes!” the little girl corrected herself. The boys also seemed to react positively. Alexander smiled an eager, panting smile, and Beowulf started to drool, which was a sure sign that he found the idea appealing. The drooling was a habit Penelope was slowing training him out of; for now she was relieved Lady Constance seemed not to notice, as she was still prattling away.

“. . . Old Timothy can drive us in the new brougham, so there will be plenty of room in the carriage. I have a frightfully long list of things to buy. Of course I
could
send Mrs. Clarke, but then I thought—no, it would be simply too much fun to go shopping! But I can't abide
going alone. I have been all but imprisoned in this house for
days
now, with so much to do and the party barely a week away. . . .”

The prospect of a trip to town was exciting to Penelope as well, but a long journey in the carriage with Lady Constance and the Incorrigibles, followed by a tiring day of shopping—would that be wise? She had been working very diligently with the children on good manners, socially useful phrases and appropriate party conversation topics; perhaps this expedition could serve as a valuable rehearsal. And, too, it was the most happy and excited she had seen the children since that awful visit to Lord Fredrick's study.

“Please, Lumawoo?” Alexander tugged at her sleeve.

“Please
please,
Lumawoo?” Beowulf added fervently.

“Lum
ahwoooooo!
” Cassiopeia looked up at her with wide, entreating eyes.

The howling jostled Penelope out of her thoughts. She realized Lady Constance was still waiting for an answer.

“Of course, Lady Constance,” she said, flustered. “You are very kind to invite us. It will be our pleasure to accompany you to town.”

“Lumawoo?” Lady Constance repeated. There was a curious expression on her face, and she looked at each of the children in turn. “Is that what they call you? How fascinating these Incorrigibles are. I am starting to see my husband's point. It will be terribly amusing to show them off at the party—after all, no one else has anything like them! Tomorrow, then. We shall leave promptly at ten o'clock. What fun we shall have! I am sure I will hardly sleep a wink tonight thinking about it!”

After Lady Constance left, the children were so excited that it took ten full minutes for Penelope to turn their attention back to the fate of the doomed
Hesperus
. Once she did, they were riveted by its tale of a shipwreck in a terrible winter storm at sea. After she reached the tragically thrilling last lines—

“Such was the wreck of the Hesperus,
In the midnight and the snow!
Christ save us all from a death like this,
On the reef of Norman's Woe!”

—the children's appreciative howls of “Norman's
Ahwooooooooooooe!
” rang throughout the nursery with such convincing mournfulness, Penelope thought that
Longfellow himself would approve.

When Penelope returned to her room that evening, she found a lilac-scented envelope had been slipped under the door. Inside was an impressive sum of cash and a brief note:
Perhaps you will find it convenient to receive a portion of your salary prior to going shopping—with thanks for your service & c., Lady C
.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
'
S DEPARTURE
went remarkably smoothly. In fact, when the children saw the gleaming carriage with its two horses in harness, they immediately called out “Rainbow! Silky!” and had to be gently dissuaded from braiding the beasts' manes and tails on the spot. They spent the journey looking wide-eyed out the carriage windows. The fact that a strong pane of glass stood safely between them and whatever wildlife they might spot along the side of the road allowed Penelope to concentrate on her knitting in a most relaxed way.

Lady Constance chatted incessantly about all that she planned to buy. Her shopping list for the party even included some items for the children: new gloves for everyone, straw sailor hats for the boys to match their sailor suits, and a small reticule for Cassiopeia (a reticule was a kind of tiny purse; what Cassiopeia
might put in it was a mystery to Penelope, but Lady Constance thought her little party outfit would look “ever so much more complete” with the addition of such a bag).

“And I must also keep my eye out for a very special
cadeau,
” she said gaily, “for I have not yet found the perfect gift for my Fredrick. When I am done shopping, I intend to surprise him for an impromptu lunch! Won't he be pleased?”

There was no way for Penelope to know the answer to that question, but Lady Constance did not seem to expect a reply, so Penelope decided it was wisest to say nothing. She had her own thoughts to occupy her in any case. The notion of shopping for presents in a busy town full of stores, with a pocketful of money to spend—this was a type of recreation Penelope had never experienced before, and the prospect made her giddy. She planned to buy presents for the children and Mrs. Clarke, for Miss Charlotte Mortimer, and also for Margaret and Jasper, to thank them for their assistance with the schottische. After some internal debate, she decided she ought to get something for Lady Constance, too. It might be seen as presumptuous, but on the other hand, who didn't like presents?

Lady Constance instructed Old Timothy to drop
them off at the busiest part of town, where all the best (that is to say, most expensive) stores were to be found. He was then to deliver a message to Lord Ashton at his club instructing him to meet Lady Constance for lunch at the Dying Swan Tearoom in two hours' time. At that location they would all rendezvous at four o'clock to return to Ashton Place.

This plan suited Penelope perfectly, for it meant that she would have some time to shop without having to listen to Lady Constance's endless talk. As for the children, she could only hope they would remain reasonably calm. She had brought many treats along as a safety precaution, and the wool for her knitting could always be used as a leash in a pinch. Fortunately, the artificial sights and sounds of the town did not provoke the Incorrigibles in quite the same way that the squirrels of the forest did. Rather than tempt them to run off, the hustle and bustle of the streets made the children cling to Penelope's skirts, and they were visibly relieved when they entered the relative calm of the milliner's shop.

Once there, the boys posed comically in their new sailor hats and thanked Lady Constance profusely by using the socially useful phrases Penelope had taught them, such as “Most appreciated!” and “I offer you my
humble gratitude.” At first, Cassiopeia was confused by her reticule and started to gnaw on the leather clasp, but Penelope quickly corrected her and all was well.

There was a small bookstore tucked between the milliner's and the shoemaker's shops. Lady Constance had walked past it without a second glance, but Penelope made a mental note to return as soon as Lady Constance left for her lunch appointment. That hour came soon enough, and although she got stuck holding all the packages—“Would you mind terribly, Miss Lumley? I couldn't possibly arrive at the tearoom carrying so many boxes and bags. Fredrick will accuse me of squandering the Ashton family fortune in a single afternoon, and besides, my poor fingers are beginning to ache!”—Penelope was glad to be left to her own devices at last.

“This way, children,” she said, leading them straight to the bookstore. “We have some shopping of our own to do.” Once inside, she was able to settle her three charges in a corner of the children's section to watch the packages and flip through books. They immediately seized upon a copy of a popular new book that was on prominent display. Beowulf handed it to Penelope so she could see the title.

“Hmph,” she said. “It is called
Mayhem for Boys:
First Lessons in Wanton Destruction
.”

The children looked at her, confused.

“Mayhem?” Alexander tentatively asked. “Mayhem yes?”

“No! No mayhem, no!” Penelope corrected firmly. “I'm sure it is meant to be ironic.”

They looked even more confused. Penelope sighed. Irony was certainly a worthy topic for discussion, but she was eager to start browsing among the books.

“Irony is when you say one thing but mean something else,” she explained quickly, “or when you expect things are going to happen one way and then they turn out quite differently—well, it is difficult to put into words. I will have to point out an example when one arises. Now behave yourselves and do not leave this spot. I will return as soon as I have done with my shopping.”

Finally, she was free to find presents for everyone on her list. First, the children. For Alexander she chose an introductory Latin text; for Beowulf a collection of Shakespeare's sonnets; and for Cassiopeia a book of Greek myths that explained the tales behind the constellations (including the girl's namesake, the crown-shaped arrangement of stars the Greeks called Cassiopeia, which can easily be seen in the northern
sky to this very day). They were ambitious choices, perhaps, but as Agatha Swanburne once said, “When the impossible becomes merely difficult, that's when you know you've won.”

She even found something suitable for Lady Constance: a small volume about the stately homes of England that was mostly pictures. Selections were made for Mrs. Clarke (a collection of pudding recipes), Margaret (a popular romance novel that Penelope herself had difficulty putting down once she peeked inside), and Jasper (a thrilling memoir of Arctic exploration by Lieutenant Bedford Pim of the Royal Navy, including his dog-sled encounters with the native Esquimaux people of wildest Canada! Penelope hoped it would not be rude to ask to borrow this volume back once Jasper was done reading it).