Petticoat Rebellion Read Online Free

with the dowager. Until that moment, Abbie had not realized the full difficulty of her position. She had no real authority over the girls, but if they came to grief, she would certainly be held responsible.
    “It is your decision, ma’am,”she said, loud and clear.
    “Of course it is, Miss Fairheart.”
    As the last of the parade disappeared behind the house, Lady Penfel turned a severe eye on Miss Fairchild. “I do hope you are not one of those schoolmistressy sort of schoolmistresses, Miss Fairwell. You are much too young to be so stiff-rumped. Algie would not like it. His papa, now, that was a different kettle of fish. I was never allowed to have any fun when he was alive. I was too busy giving him three daughters before I finally had a brace of sons—an heir and a spare. Then my job was over. But now that I have got the girls bounced off and buried Penfel,”she said with relish, “I can do just as I like. Algie does not mind what I do, so long as I do not wear red shoes or go to the cent-per-centers. Ladies do not wear red shoes.”
    Miss Fairchild was only half listening. The other half of her interest was on the raddled face of Lady Penfel. What an intriguing character for a portrait! Like something out of the Rake’s Progress, but in lieu of decrepit, penurious, defeated old age, it was imperious old age in a silken gown, with all the fire and spirit of youth still burning brightly.
    A hand spotted with liver marks and flashing two large diamond rings clutched her arm. “I believe I threw my hip out with that wiggling,”she said, laughing. “Give me a hand into the house, will you, dear?”They began the walk to the door. “So how are you going on? Sifton is taking care of you? Good,”she said, before any reply could be made.
    “We’ll have tea, then we can take the girls down to watch the performers set up their show before dinner. They don’t get to see such sights as that in London, eh?”
    “Actually, Miss Slatkin’s Academy is at Maidstone.”Abbie felt a pronounced compulsion to object to something, and she had already learned that her hostess would not be talked out of any opportunity for impropriety.
    “So it is. One forgets things in old age. Not that I am old!”she added hastily. “How old do you think I am? The truth, now.”
    Abbie did some hasty calculations. Three daughters, then two sons. Susan had mentioned Lord Penfel was thirty. “It is difficult to say. In your—er, early sixties, perhaps?”she said, wanting to flatter the old lady. She looked eighty.
    “Ha! I am seventy years old! But young at heart. Still young at heart.”She inclined her head to Abbie and said, “I color my hair. Don’t tell anyone! Not that it is white, but its red has faded. Just a little tint, for I cannot abide to wear a cap, and I like to look nice for Algie.”
    Abbie’s poor opinion of Algie, otherwise known as Lord Penfel, lowered another notch. Bad enough that he refused a serious artist permission to view his precious treasures, but what sort of son encouraged his aged mama to make a spectacle of herself? What sort of gentleman invited a load of circus performers to his estate when schoolgirls were visiting?
    Tea was served in the saloon. Lady Penfel was so invigorated by the arrival of the circus that she chattered like a monkey to the girls.
    “Which of you is the brewer’s gel?”she asked.
    “That would be Miss Kirby,”Lady Susan informed her, indicating Annabelle.
    “Nettie tells me she hopes to land her for Sylvester. There is a match made in heaven. The brewer’s gel will like to have a sort of handle to her name, and Sylvester likes his ale. But he has not gone to fat yet. Mind you, it won’t be long the way he soaks it up.”
    “Nettie is my mama, the duchess,”Lady Susan
explained to the others.
    “Aye, Nettie Carr did pretty well for herself, nabbing a duke, and she was nothing to look at, either. Looked quite like yourself, Susan. Mind you, Charles was downright ugly. No