Penelope's posture stiffened at her mother's words as cold sweat trickled down her spine. The magistrate? She thought. Why was he back so early?
Trying to hide the discomfort, Penelope straightened instead. "I assumed as much," She said quietly, feigning strength against all frailty. "What news did he bring this time? I thought we agreed to clear our debt at the end of the season?"
"Yes, we did," She agreed, though Penelope caught the unsaid 'but' in her words.
"What is it, mama?"
Lady Sophia took in a breath and straightened, as though trying to shift against an unknown weight. "It's about your father," She said, and Penelope stiffened. "The—um, debt collectors… they arrived here as well,"
The weight of it settled between them without needing explanation. She was only 14 since her father's passing, and the truth of his mounting debts loomed ever closer.
Her father, Benedict Anderson, was a man of vigor and compassion. He was well known among society, and his fame crowned him one of the most powerful men after the King. Yet behind the wealthy-looking, all-perfect-figure, was a strong habit of drinking and gambling.
For years, the addiction grew stronger and worrisome. Penelope was only six when she realized so. A fortune squandered on reckless habits, resulting in profound debt. And since no son to inherit, no means to secure what remained of their home.
Thus only marriage could save them now. A suitable match. A wealthy one.
"What do they want?"
"Their money, obviously," Lady Sophia said, and then sighed, her gaze narrowing towards the portrait displayed beside them. For a while, she said nothing, lost in thought or words, one couldn't tell, but the expression on her face spoke beyond words. Concern. "They came with a condition if not met within three weeks,"
Penelope had a bad feeling about this one. Suddenly, her body felt cold. "Which is?" She pressed on, grateful she escaped stuttering.
Lady Sophia turned, the light catching the subtle worry in her eyes, and the firmness of her lips. "Your sister,"
Penelope's heart stopped beating.
She stared at her mother in disbelief, her face going pale. H-Her sister? "W-What?" The words stumbled off her lips in utter mortification.
"They claim to retain every right to her as much as their money. Since our finances are… quite inept to settle half the debts, your sister was set out for negotiations,"
Despite Lady Sophia's attempt to act composed, Penelope caught the worry in her mother's tone. The same trepidation ran her blood cold.
Penelope's expression grew paler. "By whom?" Those words fled past her lips even though she knew the answer.
"Lord Simon,"
Her uncle.
That snake, she hissed. "Mama…"
"No matter what you think of him Penelope, he's been at least helpful, especially throughout these past few rough seasons," She cut off, trying to make her see reasons. "Since your father's passing, Lord Simon had made sure to secure you and your sister's dowries, as much as other little finances,"
Helpful her foot.
"The little we can do is… appreciate him," Lady Sophia concluded.
"Appreciate him?" Penelope repeated, tasting the absurdity of those words with a sour expression. "Do you hear yourself speak, mama? All he's ever done is to make things worse,"
"So as other men justifiable in your eyes," She said. "The more reason why you should lean on him as a father figure. If not I, your mother,"
Penelope went quiet.
Lady Sophia sighed. "I know it hasn't been easy—"
"Francesca—"
"Do you think I don't care for my children? Do you think all these don't weigh me down as much as it does you?" She questioned back, her composure slowly dwindling. Her eyes burned in unshed tears, yet those strict features remained unmoving. "Francesa is my daughter, and the last thing I'll do is place her in the hands of those men."
The firmness in her tone was unrelenting and promising, but Penelope was infuriated.
"Did you agree to it?" She demanded.
"Of course not," Lady Sophia responded, disbelief flashing in her eyes for a brief second. "They were hell-bent on securing the accord by the end of the week, but Lord Simon came to our rescue,"
Penelope felt the urge to roll her eyes in disgust. Of course, he would.
"If all terms aren't met before three weeks, they will be forced to table the matter to the King," Lady Sophia added, and Penelope stiffened.
The king?
Soft footsteps interrupted them. A woman, no less than thirty, walked into the room cautiously, her hands occupied by a tray of tea.
"Lady Anderson, Miss Anderson," she curtseyed, moving only when Lady Sophia gave a sign. The maid could feel the weight of the room as usual as the time the two women had a conversation.
She poured the tea into the empty cups with practiced grace, the sound echoing loudly in the thick silence. When she was done refilling the cups for the ladies, she stepped back.
"Thank you, Margret," Lady Sophia said, and the woman gave a formal cutesy before retreating, letting her cautious steps signify her pullout. The moment she left, silence filled the room once again.
Lady Sophia was the first to break the stillness. She picked the teacup with grace, carefully bringing it to her lips as she took a sip. The sound was graceful, a small nibble to the ears.
"I will not soften this for you," Lady Sophia went on, dropping her cup against the saucer which suddenly became louder than it ought to be to Penelope. "We have little time. The season is nearly at its end, and still—"
"I know," She interrupted, sharper than intended, and silence followed.
Lady Sophia didn't react. Instead, understanding flickered in her eyes for a fleeting moment. If there was anything she could do to prevent her daughters from the mishap of their situation, she wouldn't think twice whatever the cost may be.
But now, reality was unfolding before their eyes and it was time to take things very seriously. Then, softly but decisively, she added, "Your sister will make her debut this season."