The Adventures of Penny Dreadful

"There's a right looker here to see you, miss," said Martin, leaning impertinently against the door jamb, gazing at the underwear she was holding, having just removed it from her trunk.

"Ah, please show her..." but Penny got no further, as a most striking young woman of about twenty-three, in the (in her particular case, flattering) smart grey outfit of a salaried domestic pushed past Martin. She immediately gave the impression, once an observer saw past her stunning cascade of red locks and her limpid blue eyes, of a very capable and alert personage, despite her clear want of status. In a trice she had removed the camisole from Penny's unresisting fingers and was bustling about, packing what remained of Penny's things in drawers.

"Roxanne Poule, at your service, miss," she said as she worked, a gentle lilt to her voice, redolent of the hills and pastures of Kerry, "here at the bidding of Miss Violetta Burlington to act as your lady's maid and companion."

"Err, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Poule," said Penny, somewhat taken aback by the woman's force of personality.

"And a pleasure to make yours, miss," said Roxanne, showing no intent to decelerate her stream of language, "you'll find I am conversant with all the relevant skills appertaining to the position. I am also well-read, I think you will find, and I am knowledgeable in the works of Max Planck on the smallest lengths of atomic time, and Martinus Beijerinck on the infectious nature of viruses. Miss Burlington remarked on your interests, and I hope that mine will complement yours.

"I am also," and here Roxanne cast a pointed glance in Martin's direction, that servant gazing at her with an unconcealed interest, "a student of the eastern martial arts, and your man there should know I am adept at Taekkyon, a fighting system of ancient provenance. Lay a finger on me, and I'll break it."

"I, err..." was all Penny could manage in response to this stream of words.

"And you can stop looking at us all goggle-eyed, you great gangling cormorant," said Roxanne to Martin, "thinking whatever it is you're thinking seeing two attractive young women together in a bedroom. I can hear the kettle boiling and you'll be wanting to attend to the tea-making. I take mine with lemon, not milk. Now, about your business."

Martin left, a broad smile plastered blatantly across his face, and a renewed energy animating his loins. It was, he fervently hoped, to be a good day after all, and the thought of the two young women together in the bedroom was indeed a great blessing.

"Excuse me, miss," said Roxanne in a low tone once Martin had withdrawn, "but I must convey to you in private some element of my assignment."

"Pray, continue," said Penny, noting the liveliness in Roxanne's engaging eyes.

"In addition to being a properly accredited lady's maid and companion," said Roxanne, "am I also an agent of Miss Burlington's, and she has vouchsafed to me the nature of the undertaking at hand. I am here at her request to assist you, quite aside from providing those services that a lady of breeding such as yourself is desirous of. You must think of me as your associate in the great endeavour, and as a shield on shoulder should we encounter times of tribulation."

"I am grateful," said Penny, full of relief, "for indeed I hardly know where to begin or what evidence may be relevant in our quest. Another pair of eyes and hands is indeed most welcome..."

Penny swallowed any further utterance as Martin returned to inform her that the tea was now prepared and awaited her in the parlour. She left Roxanne, instructing Martin to bring the maid a cup of tea (with lemon) once he had attended to her, and then to return as she would need to speak with him. Then she sat on the sofa, somewhat appreciative that Martin had uncharacteristically (or at least, uncharacteristically given what she knew of him on less than an hour's acquaintance) thought to provide a plate of delicate ginger fancies with her tea.

She was a little surprised to hear the suppressed sounds of giggling from the master bedroom, but a moment later Martin returned, and if he had a lascivious subcurrent in the corner of his eye Penny affected not to notice. He walked over to the table as she sat on the sofa drinking her tea, and he went to pull up a chair and sit. Seeing her shocked expression, he remembered himself and stood in a cockney approximation of attention, the best that could be said of which was that he didn't have his hands thrust deep in his pockets.

"As you are aware," Penny began, "I am my uncle's heir."

"Yes, miss. He did say that he wanted to give me a job for life..."

"And he did," said Penny, "a job for his life. Whether I retain you remains to be seen."

There was a pause as Penny sought to discover whether her barb had struck home. Equally, Martin was rapidly calculating whether the best way to the mistress was through the maid, or perhaps whether a more direct approach was warranted. The idea of both together was, of course, the ultimate goal.

"However," Penny went on finally, "a more pressing matter is the investigation and cataloguing of my uncle's effects, his papers and any other items that may have a bearing on my inheritance. In pursuance of this I wish to consult any of his papers that he may have kept here, and I would be grateful if you could direct me to them."

"Well, miss," said Martin, "he kept some stuff in the bureau," and he indicated the rosewood writing desk by the window, "and he had other papers in his room. When I heard you were coming, I removed them so as you could put your own things there. And then there's the study, of course, but you won't want to go in there..."

"Then please could you locate them for me forthwith," said Penny.

"Are you sure, miss? Those were his private papers. He noted private things in them," and Martin finished with a procacious wink, most unbecoming of a servant, or indeed of a man towards a respectable lady of breeding.

"I will have them, please, as a priority," said Penny sternly, but she was a little flustered even as she sought to lay down the law.

"I'm very much certain that your uncle would not have wanted that," said Martin.

"I beg your pardon," said Penny, "do you contradict me?"

"No, miss," said Martin, feeling an unexpected stirring at the sight of the beautiful Penelope Dreadful forcefully asserting herself, "I will bring them immediately, as you wish," though it sounded more like 'it's your funeral.'

"A moment more," Penny said, stopping Martin as he turned to leave, "I would also be obliged if you could inform me as to my uncle's character. You knew him, I presume."

"Yes, miss," said Martin carefully, "I knew him."

"How did he come to engage you?"

"I was, err, in uniform, in Her Majesty's fusiliers..."

"Ah, a soldier..." And Penny found herself having to dismiss the unasked for thought that Martin Proudstaff must have looked quite fine in a soldier's garb, even if it was that of a private soldier, not an officer.

"Yes, I was in the army for a time, miss, though it little profited either myself or Her Majesty. And when a cousin of mine mentioned that your uncle had need a of man in London, I applied and he, I presume, liked what he saw of me." At this last Martin couldn't help but glance momentarily downwards, towards his manhood.

"And can you tell me something of his character?" said Penny, trying hard not to follow Martin's downward glance.

"I should think, miss, that there have people keen to steer you away from that subject."

"Indeed, there have."

"Let me only say, then, that he might be thought ahead of his time. Or behind it. But anyway, he did not sit well in the current time, and many people did not understand him, and disapproved as people will, because others do not live as they desire. He had his own way of living and did no harm but to those who consented, or sought no harm from others but what agreed to harm him. And I would prefer to say no more, miss, out of loyalty." And Martin Proudstaff finally projected something of a noble aspect, to the extent that Penny believed he might even be worthy of some respect if he weren't so familiar.

"Very well," said Penny, "your reticence does you credit. Pray, bring me my uncle's papers."

"All of them?"

"Yes," said Penny, "all of them."

As Martin carried out his instructions to the very last letter, Penny began to understand his misgivings. There were boxes and boxes, and a valise, and files piled upon them until a veritable mountain grew around her as she sat at the bureau.

"Where were all of these?" said Penny, somewhat disconsolate at the scale of the task ahead of her.

"Well, to be fair, miss, I would have had to move them somewhere, anyway, as they were occupying Miss Poule's room."

Penny nodded her apperception and fought down her growing despondency. Upon joining her Roxanne softly whistled at the sight, and between them the two women began the task of dividing papers into type, having first dispatched Martin to Kettner's to bring back a sumptuous early supper for them all.

It took more than an hour to sort the papers loosely into ones seeming to pertain to Cornelius Dreadful's finances, official correspondence, private correspondence, diaries and private journals, and a miscellany of papers which stood alone. At least none of them appeared to be in code.

"Surely that's enough now, miss," said Roxanne, turning up the lamps as the autumn sun went down behind the buildings on the other side of the Square.

"Indeed," Penny said, "I've had a long day. But the need is imperative..."

"It undoubtedly is, miss," said Roxanne, a hint of certitude in her voice, "however, falling asleep with your head in your uncle's bank statements won't help us to accomplish it. I'm sure Miss Burlington and the Commodore would want you to rest now, and apply yourself with renewed vigour on the morrow."

In truth, Penny was privately well-disposed to being persuaded, and as Martin returned at that moment bearing their repast, she resolved to recharge herself over the evening and night. Martin, of course, ate in the kitchen, but slyly he kept the door ajar and listened as Roxanne, granted the singular honour of dining with her new employer, regaled Penny with stories of sheep wrangling on the family farm and Penny, in turn, described her life of study with Lucy at Dead Man's Farm.

Upon deciding to withdraw for the night, Roxanne assisted Penny to undress and prepare herself for bed. She took a hairbrush and began to brush out Penny's long, silken tresses. Her smooth movements soothed Penny, as did the murmured Gaelic lullaby Roxanne hummed as she brushed, and she felt a growing and irresistible drowsiness.

"Why, miss, there's a tension here in you, I can feel it," said Roxanne softly, "let me attend to it."

"If you think you can..." yawned Penny.

"I think I must, or you'll awake with a stiff neck. Please, loosen your nightdress."

Penny did so, and Roxanne slipped the fabric down, off her shoulders. She then set to softly massaging the strain from Penny's neck, her fingers dexterous yet gentle as she worked downwards to Penny's bare shoulders.

"Mmm, that's wondrous," Penny said softly, "I have missed this, for Lucy would attend to me thus most evenings... Ow!"

"Oh, forgive me, miss!" exclaimed Roxanne, having dug her thumb most painfully into Penny's trapezius muscle, "but you must forget your former companion. To be sure, she is unworthy of you."

With that Roxanne resumed her ministrations, and soon Penny was drowsing again, to the point that she felt Roxanne almost carry her to her bed. The woman seemed to need to be expressly dismissed before she would leave, an endearing disinclination to depart from her new mistress speaking to her loyalty. But with that, Penny slept.

She dreamt, however, and such dreams. It began with a near waking sensation of hearing a knock upon the bedroom door next to hers, opening into the room occupied by Roxanne. Upon the door being opened there she was, clad only in an almost sheer nightgown. Her form beneath the thin fabric was firm, proportioned, with her breasts standing proud and the points of her nipples pressing out.

"I've been waiting for you to knock," Roxanne said, in Penny's dream state, and her voice had a lascivious tone.

Waiting without to be admitted was Martin, and now he was wearing only his breeches, and the light reflected most interesting over the pleasingly hard muscles of his chest. His arms appeared reassuringly strong, and his smile had reached a depth of self-assurance such that even Penny would have admitted him had he knocked on her door instead. However, it was Roxanne's door he applied to, and she now stood aside to let him pass.

What followed was a torrid conjunction of naked bodies in an exchange of passions that had Penny rolling and tossing in her bedclothes, the sounds of sexual ecstasy a tribulation to a young woman of good family and breeding. Finally, Penny awoke in the small hours, her nightdress twisted and her hair in disarray, a coiled energy in her limbs that made it difficult for her to return to sleep, and a restlessness in her mind that she could not quite pinpoint or rectify. One thing was for certain, however: she had misjudged poor Martin, and he certainly deserved a second chance to display the correct servantly bearing.

The next morning Roxanne appeared to have slept equally fitfully, and she stifled many yawns. Penny was glad, however, to see that she and Martin were working more in tandem than at cross purposes, and the smiles between them betokened the happy domestic environment that would make her pressing task somewhat more agreeable to accomplish. Following breakfast Martin informed Penny that it was his day off and he was desirous of visiting his sister in the borough of Camden. Penny assented and he departed, leaving the work of going through the profusion of papers to his employer and her gently humming, slightly distrait maid.

As the morning advanced, Penny dived into her task, assisted somewhat less energetically by Roxanne, who seemed to find it vexing to remain concentrated. On more than one occasion Penny had to remind the woman not to stare listlessly out of the window with a distant smile on her face, and attend once more to the papers before her. With the afternoon approaching, Penny found herself submerged more and more in Cornelius Dreadful's financial affairs, and though they had no bearing on the current threat to Empire she was duty bound to settle some small outstanding accounts to his tailor and to the local grocer.

Roxanne, meanwhile, busied herself, more or less, with Lord Dreadful's official correspondence, reading and tabulating his ongoing conversations with Black Rod and the Privileges Committee of the House of Lords, who seemed desirous to investigate some undisclosed behaviour on Lord Dreadful's part that seemed to have taken place in the cellars beneath the Clock Tower in the Houses of Parliament. Cornelius Dreadful, for his part, refused to be called to account for something he insisted was undertaken 'with the consent of all parties.' Roxanne read this with raised eyebrows, but decided against drawing Penny's attention to the obvious implications, instead choosing to respect her innocence.

Some hours passed thus, unfruitfully, and Roxanne then departed to prepare luncheon, whilst Penny decided to retire with some miscellaneous correspondence to the comfort of her bedroom, her posterior then aching from extended investigation whilst seated on a hard chair.

The first paper she examined appeared to be the draft of a letter that was either unsent, or revised in a second draft. It appeared to be address to Martin Proudstaff, and Penny wondered just what her uncle might need to disclose to his manservant that required three pages of foolscap, and whether indeed Martin might not be more deeply in the matter than she supposed. She read on, past some inconsequential greetings, to the body if the letter...

I feel compelled to write to someone, and you, my faithful servant, are the only one to whom I can vouchsafe my feelings in this matter. Our outings together along the Haymarket and our little soirees with your cousin and her friends have been but an ephemeral distraction, I now understand, for I have finally seen her, the One. Oh, such perfection! Her hair, tumbling like sunlight over her perfect shoulders, and her bosom, firm and rising like the hill-forts made by our proud ancestors of old. Her rear is a symphony Beethoven himself could not have composed, and her eyes are like sapphires...

But I must not go on, for she is out of reach. Her name I will not commit to paper, it being enough to say that I owe it to my late younger brother not to debauch his only begotten... However, the things I would do, the things I would introduce to this vision... I would unclothe her, as I unclothed myself, and you Martin would unclothe her, too, had you but the chance, and your manhood would stand achingly proud, more even than it did when you entertained the two actresses we suborned from the Lyric Theatre.

Having her in my power, I would secure her to my tupping bench, there to tease and arouse her before entering her with deep sighs and much energy. Oh, how I would plough her, how I would impale her gorgeous sex with my steel-hard rod of power, until she screamed aloud and subsided, whence I would grunt and groan and erupt before likewise subsiding. And you may wager upon it, Martin, that I would repeat the performance, with more encores than Miss Bernhardt upon the stage. I would have her make the acquaintance of my riding crop, and the nipple clamps of Paris that I brought back these two years past. But alas...

I knew from the moment I espied her in the distance as she disembarked from the Calais boat that I could not afford her to be in my presence. I would have weakened, I would have wavered, I would have ravished! So, I have sent her into the country and denied her an interview, and she is now alone but for a female attendant and some books. Furthermore, I must insist, Martin Proudstaff, that should you ever encounter this Venus, you shall restrain yourself out of the respect you must bear to me. Remember the time I bailed you out of Southampton Row...

Penny was close to palpitations as she finished reading, for her uncle could only have been describing her. And with such indelicate, lustful language that she had not seen since a foolish young shepherd in the Canton of Lucerne had wrapped a filthy limerick around a rock and hurled it through her bedroom window at Frau Aufguss's Academy for Young Gentlewomen. Penny let the letter flutter to the floor and raised her hand to her fevered brow. Could her uncle seriously have envisaged such immoral acts with his own niece? And then to commit them to paper! To a servant, no less!

Roxanne found her thus, easing the pain from her forebrain with gentle, circular motions. The maid had retrieved the paper from the carpet before Penny was aware of it, and she read, an expression of shocked disbelief disturbing her Hibernian beauty.

"Oh!" exclaimed Roxanne, "the infamy!"

"Oh, Roxanne," said Penny urgently, "please forgive me, you should not have seen such a disgusting thing. My own uncle..."

"With two actresses, at the same time!" said Roxanne, with more than a hint of enraged perturbation, "I shall be having words with him..."

The sound of a bell interrupted the cross-purposed conversation and Roxanne hurried to answer the magneto-telephone in the hallway. She returned a short moment later to inform Penny that Miss Burlington was on the line, desirous of an interview of pressing importance. Penny followed Roxanne back to the hallway and retrieved the earpiece.