“Splendid,” Harford said as he left the office after a highly satisfactory chat, thinking that marriage to Penny would be a pleasure. He couldn’t wait.
* * * *
At Letty’s house, Penelope sat in the drawing room, gazing fondly at the ring when she thought no one was watching her.
Mr. Oglethorpe read poetry in a pleasing voice, while Letty sat on the sofa listening, her eyes flashing from him to Penelope.
Let not ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.
Letty glanced back to him, wanting to discuss this peculiar development with her cousin rather than hear noble sentiments about the workers. “I trust Thomas Gray did not actually work on a farm himself, did he?” she inserted in one of Andrew’s dramatic pauses.
“No, but he wondered what they might have accomplished had they been given the opportunity, rather than despising them as some do.” His disdainful look was totally lost on Letty, who had turned her attention in the direction of her cousin.
Penelope had seized an opportunity before Letty joined them to beseech Mr. Oglethorpe to think of something that might deter Letty from her vegetable eating. Andrew saw an opportunity to assist both his cause and Penelope’s.
“By the bye, dear Lettice, do you know what I heard? That poet, Shelley, the one who wrote the pamphlet on a natural diet, is an atheist!”
Letty, who never failed to attend divine services unless she was at death’s door, paled. “No!” Her plump little hand fluttered up to her throat. The revulsion in her voice might have been amusing had it not been so important to convince her of the fallacy of her thinking.
“True. Heard it from a good friend, so I went up to where Shelley lives, to find out for myself. There is no denying it. Has been for a long time, ever since he was at Eton.”
If ever a woman looked torn, it was Letty at the news that her admired advocate of a natural diet was an atheist.
“I hear his marriage to Harriet is in danger, for he espouses Godwin’s notions against wedlock. Seems he prefers free love, whatever that is. Not to mention he declaims loud and clear of the tyranny of the government.”
This proved too much for Letty. She could never tolerate a radical atheist, much less someone who would plot the overthrow of her government. “What shall I do?” she wondered. “I had such faith, and now it is gone. I cannot consider a recommendation from a man like that.” She glanced at Penelope in alarm.
“I quite agree,” Penelope replied. “I believe a sensible English diet, with a moderate amount of vegetables, fish, meat, and fowl included, is to be commended.”
“Quite right,” agreed Mr. Oglethorpe, glancing at Penelope with a glimmer of amusement.
“I expect you are correct,” Letty said doubtfully, giving in at last.
Penelope avoided looking at Mr. Oglethorpe, but she hoped he knew how grateful the entire household was to him. She rose, murmuring something about consulting with Cook, then drifted out of the room before Letty had a chance to quiz her more on the sudden appearance of the sapphire ring.
In the kitchen there was rejoicing to discover they would be able to resume a normal diet, with all the foods they had either been denied, or had to smuggle into the house, Penelope supplying the funds.
When she returned to the drawing room—for although she trusted Andrew Oglethorpe, she well knew that Letty would scold if propriety did not prevail—the first thing she saw was that Letty’s little gold-framed spectacles did not perch on her nose as per usual.
“What? Have you mislaid your spectacles?” Letty, upon occasion, was known to deposit her spectacles, then forget where she put them.
“Andrew has taken them from me. He says he’ll not have me reading a thing until I agree to what he proposes.”
“I should say the man is indeed desperate. Had you better not listen to what he has to say, then?” Penelope exchanged an understanding look with Andrew, one that Letty could not see.
Letty sat stubbornly silent, looking like a plump little brown hen on a nest, with her Devonshire brown gown trimmed with blond lace gathered about her. Her gray eyes seemed troubled but determined.
“Do you know what he demands as a ransom?” Letty asked of Penelope, ignoring the man who now sat beside her, those missing spectacles peeping out of his pocket.
“I might venture a guess, but I should rather you told me.”
“He has again asked me to marry him.”
Sympathy for his plight could clearly be seen in Penelope’s eyes by the patient-no-longer Andrew Oglethorpe. “Aye, I am an anxious man to have this business settled. You see, she has never said no to me.”
“I might yet,” Letty said with a pout.
“Letty, do you recall what we discussed some days ago?” Penelope inserted at this point. “I believe it is time you took yourself in hand and faced the issues that concern you. Why not discuss them with Mr. Oglethorpe?”
The plump little bird on the striped sofa turned to the man she considered “her” Andrew, then admitted, “Penelope told me to think about what life would be if I did not have you about. I have done so.”
Andrew and Penelope waited with suspended breath to hear her conclusion.
At that moment Aunt Winthrop bustled into the room without so much as a by-your-leave, and settled on a chair near Penelope. She ignored the two on the sofa, except to favor them with a basilisk stare.
“Good afternoon, Aunt,” Penelope said with a strained civility. “Mr. Olgethorpe has been favoring us with a selection of poetry. Since he and Letty have something they wish to
