Read Online Penelope Goes to Portsmouth by M. C. Beaton - Free Book Online
Authors: M. C. Beaton
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Lord Augustus, who knew the rest of the song only too well. ‘Ladies present!’
Mr Cato looked sheepish. ‘Forgot,’ he said. ‘A million apologies. Not used to the company of ladies. You sing something, my lord.’
Urged on by the others, Lord Augustus rose to his feet. He did not want to sing. He wanted to go on examining the effect Penelope was having on hissenses. He chose the first song that came into his head. His clear tenor voice fell with disastrous clarity on the listening ears.
‘Yankee Doodle went to town,
He rode a little pony,
He stuck a feather in his hat
And called it macaroni.
Yankee Doodle fa, so, la,
Yankee Doodle dandy.
Yankee Doodle fa, so, la,
Buttermilk and brandy.’
Mr Cato leaped to his feet, his fists swinging. ‘You shall answer for that,’ he shouted.
Lord Augustus looked at him in horror, realizing for the first time what he had just sung. ‘Yankee Doodle’, that ballad used by British soldiers to taunt the New Englanders with aspirations to fashion, who thought they looked like Macaronies simply by putting feathers in their hats, and could only afford to ride ponies, had been a slur in ’76, but as the years had passed, had simply become a popular ballad. He also realized the infuriated American was quite drunk.
‘My apologies,’ said Lord Augustus as Mr Cato staggered around the table towards him. ‘Fie, sir, we have all had too much to drink. You are not a New Englander. Come, sir. You may sing an American song if you wish.’
Mr Cato stood in front of Lord Augustus. His red face was now so very red he looked about to explode.
‘You did, after all, win the war.’ Lord Augustus raised his glass. ‘A toast! To General George Washington.’
Mr Cato looked bemused. Hannah thrust a glass of wine into his hand.
‘General George Washington,’ roared everyone.
Mr Cato drank, the fire dying out of his cheeks. Mollified, he said, ‘I thought you was making a fool of me, my lord.’
‘We have both had a disastrous choice of songs this night. Let the ladies entertain us. Miss Trenton!’
Miss Trenton blushed and disclaimed. She had a poor voice, she said. But urged on, she rose to her feet and sang ‘Drink to Me Only’ in a surprisingly pretty voice. Mr Cato and Lord Augustus resumed their seats. Miss Trenton was wildly applauded, not so much for the beauty of her singing, but because everyone was relieved that a nasty row had been averted. Mr Cato urged Miss Trenton to take wine with him, and the more wine Miss Trenton drank, the more jealous she became of Penelope.
The party moved their chairs to sit around the fire and Miss Trenton found herself beside Lord Augustus.
‘Ahem,’ she said, clearing her throat genteelly to catch his attention. ‘Sad business about Miss Wilkins.’
Lord Augustus looked amused. ‘Being sent home? I think she has a doting father and all will be forgiven.’
‘Perhaps not this time,’ said Miss Trenton darkly.
He looked at her malicious little eyes and felt he should turn away. But his interest in Penelope was becoming very great. He waited.
‘I said nothing at the time,’ went on Miss Trenton, ‘but I know that seminary in Esher and heard of Miss Wilkins’s downfall.’
‘Driving some poor music master to behave in a silly way can hardly be called a downfall.’
Miss Trenton leaned closer to Lord Augustus and whispered, ‘But Miss Wilkins let the music master have his way with her. The poor man then felt he had to propose.’
Lord Augustus turned away from her and began to talk to Hannah while all the time his mind raced. The sensible side of it told him that Miss Trenton was a spiteful spinster. The rakish side of his mind almost wanted to believe her. There was something so, well, sensuous, about Penelope.
He looked across at her to where she sat on the other side of the fireplace. At that moment, Penelope, who had been thinking uneasily about the spiders he had described, thought she felt something crawling
Mr Cato looked sheepish. ‘Forgot,’ he said. ‘A million apologies. Not used to the company of ladies. You sing something, my lord.’
Urged on by the others, Lord Augustus rose to his feet. He did not want to sing. He wanted to go on examining the effect Penelope was having on hissenses. He chose the first song that came into his head. His clear tenor voice fell with disastrous clarity on the listening ears.
‘Yankee Doodle went to town,
He rode a little pony,
He stuck a feather in his hat
And called it macaroni.
Yankee Doodle fa, so, la,
Yankee Doodle dandy.
Yankee Doodle fa, so, la,
Buttermilk and brandy.’
Mr Cato leaped to his feet, his fists swinging. ‘You shall answer for that,’ he shouted.
Lord Augustus looked at him in horror, realizing for the first time what he had just sung. ‘Yankee Doodle’, that ballad used by British soldiers to taunt the New Englanders with aspirations to fashion, who thought they looked like Macaronies simply by putting feathers in their hats, and could only afford to ride ponies, had been a slur in ’76, but as the years had passed, had simply become a popular ballad. He also realized the infuriated American was quite drunk.
‘My apologies,’ said Lord Augustus as Mr Cato staggered around the table towards him. ‘Fie, sir, we have all had too much to drink. You are not a New Englander. Come, sir. You may sing an American song if you wish.’
Mr Cato stood in front of Lord Augustus. His red face was now so very red he looked about to explode.
‘You did, after all, win the war.’ Lord Augustus raised his glass. ‘A toast! To General George Washington.’
Mr Cato looked bemused. Hannah thrust a glass of wine into his hand.
‘General George Washington,’ roared everyone.
Mr Cato drank, the fire dying out of his cheeks. Mollified, he said, ‘I thought you was making a fool of me, my lord.’
‘We have both had a disastrous choice of songs this night. Let the ladies entertain us. Miss Trenton!’
Miss Trenton blushed and disclaimed. She had a poor voice, she said. But urged on, she rose to her feet and sang ‘Drink to Me Only’ in a surprisingly pretty voice. Mr Cato and Lord Augustus resumed their seats. Miss Trenton was wildly applauded, not so much for the beauty of her singing, but because everyone was relieved that a nasty row had been averted. Mr Cato urged Miss Trenton to take wine with him, and the more wine Miss Trenton drank, the more jealous she became of Penelope.
The party moved their chairs to sit around the fire and Miss Trenton found herself beside Lord Augustus.
‘Ahem,’ she said, clearing her throat genteelly to catch his attention. ‘Sad business about Miss Wilkins.’
Lord Augustus looked amused. ‘Being sent home? I think she has a doting father and all will be forgiven.’
‘Perhaps not this time,’ said Miss Trenton darkly.
He looked at her malicious little eyes and felt he should turn away. But his interest in Penelope was becoming very great. He waited.
‘I said nothing at the time,’ went on Miss Trenton, ‘but I know that seminary in Esher and heard of Miss Wilkins’s downfall.’
‘Driving some poor music master to behave in a silly way can hardly be called a downfall.’
Miss Trenton leaned closer to Lord Augustus and whispered, ‘But Miss Wilkins let the music master have his way with her. The poor man then felt he had to propose.’
Lord Augustus turned away from her and began to talk to Hannah while all the time his mind raced. The sensible side of it told him that Miss Trenton was a spiteful spinster. The rakish side of his mind almost wanted to believe her. There was something so, well, sensuous, about Penelope.
He looked across at her to where she sat on the other side of the fireplace. At that moment, Penelope, who had been thinking uneasily about the spiders he had described, thought she felt something crawling
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