Read Petticoat Rebellion for Free Online Page B

help in the vegetable garden. I remember he and a couple of the princesses picked beans for our dinner one evening.”
    “Ah, that would be after he became mad,”Susan said, and tackled another bite of the tough mutton.
    The ladies from Miss Slatkin’s were accustomed to Lady Susan, but being with new company made them aware of her unconscious rudeness. Abbie felt positively sorry for Penfel when she turned to him and asked in no quiet voice, “Why did Lady Eleanor turn you off, cousin? Was it because of your rackety reputation, or were your pockets to let?”
    Penfel smiled blandly, “What a lack of imagination, Susan. There are other reasons.”
    She nodded, always happy to learn something new. “What are these other reasons?”She glanced at her hostess. “There is not insanity in the Penfel family, is there, ma’am?”
    “Only a touch,”she replied, then turned to her elder son. “I daresay you got too forward with Lady Eleanor, eh, Algie? She is one of those schoolmistressy gels who raises a hue and cry if a gentleman tries to snuggle her. Fancy a son of mine losing control with Eleanor Bagshot. It would be like kissing a cow. The Bagshots all have those great calf eyes and placid expressions.”
    “Was that it, lechery?”Susan asked Penfel.
    “How are you liking school, Susan?”was his reply.
    “Fine. You did not answer me, Penfel.”
    He gave her a haughty stare. “It is not only ladies who grow deaf when the conversation is unsuitable for mixed company. I wonder they do not teach manners at Miss Slatkin’s Academy.”
    He looked down the board, where Kate and Annabelle were snickering into their napkins, and Abbie was working heroically to dismember apiece of mutton from her chop. “What subject do you teach, Miss Fairchild?”he asked.
    Abbie sensed the moment had come to broach the da Vinci cartoons, “I teach art,”she said. “I have been to Penfel Hall three times before to admire your magnificent collection.”
    Mr. Singleton looked up and stared at her with dawning knowledge. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.
    Penfel and Abbie discussed art intelligently for a few moments, then she said, “I have never seen the da Vinci cartoons, as they are not on display. I am a great admirer of da Vinci. Would it be possible to see them?”
    “I’ll show them to you tomorrow,”he replied promptly. “They’re really marvelous, but perishing a little around the edges, you know, being so old. That is why they are not on display.”
    “Leonardo lived from the late fifteenth to early sixteenth century,”Lady Susan informed them. “That would make the sketches three hundred years old. Naturally, it is one’s duty to preserve such priceless treasures. Papa, the duke, feels the weight of responsibility in that respect. Wycliffe has so many irreplaceable artworks. He has seven Van Dycks at Wycliffe and three Rembrandts, along with many Italian masterpieces. Also a collection of Chinese jade, and a small golden epergne in the Blue Saloon, said to be the work of Bernini—he was an Italian sculptor of the seventeenth century. In the front hall, there is a quartet of life-size statues of the seasons by Canova. And in the—”
    “Why do you not send us a catalog, dear?”Lady Penfel said.
    “I would be very happy to, ma’am. I didn’t know you were interested in art.”
    “I’m not.”
    Mr. Singleton made a choking sound in his throat. Abbie glanced at Penfel, and saw he was watching her closely, with an amused smile twitching his lips. He lifted his glass and made a silent toast in her direction. For that brief moment, she felt a special closeness to him, as if they two alone found this strange meal and strange collection of humanity interesting and amusing. It was not a cynical smile, but displayed a tolerant appreciation of foolishness. She felt an answering smile spread across her lips.
    “Tell me about the show we shall be seeing tonight, Algie,”Lady Penfel said, breaking the