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"Penelope, you've got to put an end to all of this."
Colin had just returned from his monthly outing with Finch and Dankworth. Their ‘House of Lords Featherington Meetings’ as they liked to joke. Something they did regularly to bond over good food while they gushed about their children, praised their wives, and complained about their mother-in-law.
This time, he had had a lot to talk about, especially on the third topic. Him and Penelope had returned to the Featherington estate soon after the birth of their son, Elliot. Colin had thought he would need time to acclimate to living on the other side of Grosvenor Square, but it had not been the problem, Portia had. Was.
Colin had always heard stories from Penelope about her mother. He had witnessed her swinging temper before he had even wed his wife. But living with her was different. He now had to accept how she always required to speak with Penelope whenever Colin was already discussing with his wife, interrupting them without regards. Or how she would grab her grandchild straight from Colin’s arms, without thinking that he also wanted to cuddle with his son. Or how she refused to increase the servants’ wages for no reasons other than to contradict Colin, the person actually in charge of such decisions.
So, Colin cherished these meetings with his brothers-in-law, where they could share their grievances and, most importantly, the joys of married life. Colin really enjoyed spending time with Finch and Dankworth, something he had not imagined he would say when he had first married Penelope.
Colin had been in good spirits on the carriage back home, excited to meet with his little family after a day out. He had even dared to imagine what the rest of his afternoon would look like. He would join Penelope and Elliot in the tearoom and would lay down on the sofa by their side, after having unfastened his trousers and vest. It would be the perfect place to listen to them play while he took a digestive nap, something he needed after consuming the best roast he had had in a while.
Maybe, if time allowed him, and if his nap did not last too long, Colin might even try to write down an entry in his journal about the food he had tasted with Finch and Dankworth. His editor had been asking for a second book after the success of his first. Maybe a guide for people travelling to London could be of interest. He would need to talk about it with Penelope before taking any decision.
Yet, as he entered the tearoom where his family stood, Colin realised that the afternoon he had imagined would not happen. It, sadly, would need to be put on hold.
Penelope was sitting on the floor, next to their son. Elliot was growing more and more comfortable sitting on his own. It was an exciting development to witness; Colin particularly liked to watch him move from laying down on the floor into a more upright position. It filled his heart with such warm pride to see his son grow. Soon, Elliot would be standing and taking his first steps, Colin was sure of it.
For the moment, his boy was busy playing with the wooden horses John and Francesca had brought back from Scotland as a gift for their nephew. A white and a brown one, similar to some on the Kilmartin estate. Penelope was sitting next to him, moving around a small doll that had once belonged to Hyacinth. Both redheads looked up at Colin when he entered the room, welcoming him with coos and his name, ignoring what he had just said about Penelope needing to put an end to things.
Colin ignored them right back, because, despite the beautiful scene they made, neither Elliot nor Penelope were drawing Colin’s attention. He was too taken by what his eyes had landed on, right behind them. He could not bring his attention to his wife or child. Or on the many baskets of food that littered the floor. Or the piles of dresses that coloured the room with their many colours. Or the tins of jewellery that shone bright.
No, his attention was on the small cat sleeping on the sofa, right behind Penelope and Elliot. Exactly on the spot where Colin had meant to take his nap.
“Penelope,” Colin sighed, bringing his hand to his face, as if to wipe away his frustration at the situation. His wife, still sitting on the floor next to Elliot was looking up at him. Her blue eyes were sending imploring looks at him, just as he continued: “You cannot keep accepting all these gifts. It’s getting out of hand.”
Leaving Elliot to continue to play with his toys by himself, Penelope used the sofa as leverage to stand up and walked in her husband’s direction. The cat had not woken from its nap as Penelope moved, even with her hand by its side. Too deep in its sleep to notice, or too confident it was welcomed in this house to worry.
Penelope looked slightly more worried as she walked towards her husband. It was a discussion they had already had a week prior, when someone had brought a bird in a cage. Thankfully, that time, she had agreed with him that they would not keep it. But this time, it did not seem like they were in agreement. Instead, Penelope approached her husband as if she were about to be scolded – which was probably fair with what came out of her mouth next.
“But she’s so soft,” Penelope tried to argue. “And Elliot loves her.” Elliot who still had his back turned to the sleeping cat. At that moment, he seemed to prefer to drool on the white horse he had brought to his mouth instead of paying attention to the living animal right behind him.
“Penelope.” It was the third time Colin had said her name since coming back home. And each time, there was slightly more annoyance in his voice than the time before. Most of which was at himself as he could already feel that his resolve was dwindling down. Not that it was his fault; he could only resist his wife so much. Particularly if she used their son’s love for this cat as an opening argument for her case. His only hope at resisting was that Penelope had not realised yet how weak her husband was to her pleas.
“As for the rest,” Penelope continued, gesturing at the various piles around the room, “I thought we could give it to our staff. I know we made sure they were fairly compensated, but I worry. With the whole Maid War happening.”
Colin’s eyes had followed her hand, and only then realised the reality into which he had walked. His wife had been gifted much more incentives than he had first realised. They were organised in various piles all around the tearoom.
“The Maid War? Is it still going strong?” Colin inquired. He had not seen much of it himself, but Penelope had reported all the gossips to him first, before laying it down on paper for her latest Whistledown column. “With Lady Levitt letting go of her lady’s maid in exchange for two of Lord Burnley’s footmen, I thought things had settled down.”
The night before, as he had been falling asleep, Penelope had told him the complexities and schemes happening behind the scenes in this Maid War. It was a routine he had not thought he would enjoy as much as he did. But as Lady Whistledown’s husband, Colin had grown fonder of gossips, especially when the writer herself told it. He tried his best to follow the gossip wrote about, offering turns of phrases here and there while she worked on her columns in his company.
Sometimes, whenever he stumbled onto something interesting in his outings, he even brought gossip home. Just as Penelope was brought gifts – and stories, Colin had been offered drinks at the pub in exchange for good words to his wife, which he did report, not that Penelope was swayed by them.
But, with his mother-in-law living in their house, a small child to take care of, and the Queen and the ton breathing down his wife’s neck, Colin preferred to spend the little time they had together familiarising himself with Penelope instead of sharing gossips. With both his and her obligations, it was always difficult to find a private moment together, they did not need to talk about Lord Harley’s weekly rendezvous with Lady Luton. Or about whomever hairstyle looked a mess after her maid’s departure.
“Wait, no. I don’t want to know about the Maid War. Stop distracting me. This,” Colin said gesturing at the entire room, “cannot continue.”
Penelope was now by his side, and just as beautiful as ever. Enough to distract Colin from the overwhelming sight he had stumbled upon. Her green dress was cut perfectly to embrace his wife’s body instead of hiding it under layers of fabrics as she had worn when she had first debuted. Her hair was tamed in a masterful updo he could not wait to undo, to watch her curls cascade down her back. Her eyes were gleefully impudent, looking up at him as if she already knew that he was losing the battle. It was so easy for his wife to bring his attention to her, instead of the sleeping cat.
“Worry not. By the end of the day, everything will be gone from this room.”
“Including the cat?”
“Including the kitten.”
Her answer had come out too easily. There was far too much confidence in her promise, especially after she had asked for them to keep it. Colin knew she was hiding something behind her cleverness; he had been raised with four cunning sisters after all. But it was a trap he would have fallen victim to, just a year prior when his brain was clouded by newlywed bliss. Not that he considered himself completely out of this period in their marriage. Just enough to spot when Penelope was using her sharp mind to get her way. Colin now knew better than to simply trust her when she used that specific tone.
“Penelope,” Colin started – once again – using as much sternness in his voice as he could muster. “When you say that, do you mean out of this house, or out of this specific room.”
“We can’t leave her alone in this room when we go to sleep,” Penelope answered with a little pout.
Luckily for her, they were interrupted by their child’s laugh before Colin could try and argue against his wife. Elliot was still on the floor, on the same spot where his mother had left him. However, the wooden horse he had been playing with had been abandoned. Elliot’s attention was now on the cat who had woken up from its nap. It had jumped down the sofa and was now sniffing their child’s hands. Elliot seemed to find the wet snout on his skin humorous and worthy of his cherubic laugh.
“Please, Colin. Can we keep her?” Penelope pleaded.
He could feel she was looking at him, but he had not turned back to her. Instead, Colin watched as his son tried, unsuccessfully, to grab the cat’s tail. Now that it was moving around, it looked much smaller than what Colin had first thought when he had noticed it sleeping on the sofa. It had big brown eyes and was agile enough to escape Elliot’s grabby hands while remaining close to their son. The cat did look soft. And was very cute. And much less noisy than the bird had been.
“Careful, Elliot,” Colin warned kindly his son, walking towards the newly formed pair of friends to explain, “you need to be soft when you pet her.”
As he sat down on the floor next to Elliot, and the apparent new addition to the family, Colin tried his best to ignore his wife’s glee behind him as she followed him. As Dankworth had wisely said earlier, when retelling a dispute, he had had with Prudence about their matching outfits, sometimes it was wiser to let their wives win arguments. One should know when to pick their battle, and a cute and soft kitten was not one Colin minded losing.
“Can you at least mention something about the gifts in Whistledown. It’s too much, we cannot deal with all of this. And if people find out we’ve taken in a cat, we’ll have an entire zoo in our home before the end of the season.”