P. A. Featherington

(2) Good Day Ireland

Miss Penelope Anne Featherington had done it. She had finally done what was most painfully difficult. She had left. Left Mayfair. Left London and most importantly, she had left her family behind her.

She secured a home pretty fast, with the funds she had collected over the years. A small home with only two bedrooms, a study, a kitchen, a dining room, a small drawing room, a small library, one private room. There was larger bedchambers on the top floor. But she had yet to find a key that fit the door lock separating the floors. But two bedchambers was enough for just herself. What a thing, to reinvent herself.

All she could ever need to have her solitude. Her home was a lot smaller than any of the extravagant homes that she was accustomed to. But it was all hers. It was comfortable, warm, and most of all she loved the opportunity to care for herself. An independent life, of sorts. Cooking for herself and decorating however she thought fit. Keeping yellow contrast colour as far away as possible.

As she looked over her new accommodation, Ilford House, she had a new sense of purpose. Looking all over what she had achieved on her own. Without a handout or dipping into the non existent dowry papa had left her.

Before she even unpacked, she decided to go for a walk around town. See what Ireland has to offer that Mayfair did not.

She heard no unkind words. Only those welcoming her to their fair city. She made her way to the nearest tavern. The Galway Post. Where she met a Mr Arnold Blake. Through the drinking and fast conversation. They had become fast friends. Blake, like herself was knew to the town. Unfortunately, his wasn't an option. More of a desperate escape. People do not take kindly to men with his, certain tastes. He was a lover of men. Sure, he loved the conversations with the lady folk. All in all, he wanted to be in a place that accepted him.

After an unfortunate disagreement with his Uncle living close by. He had taken sanctuary, hoping for somewhere to reside for the indefinite future.

"Would you care to live with me?"

"I beg your pardon?" he choked out the strong liquid.

"As you are aware, I am new to town and have found accommodation. I would be delighted if you would share with me"

That was that. Pen opened her home to the rather handsome Mr Blake. Pen did not care about the scandal. She was not in Mayfair anymore. No one here cared.

Pen would search for a printers the very next day, start her business. She would become what she had always craved to be. An accomplished author. She already had years of experience under her. The subject although. Possibly, an autobiography of sorts. Focusing on her life as a wallflower in Mayfair. To the outside world she was simply Margaret. Only Blake new her truth. She refused to keep anything from him. He was a friend.

Within a month she had already had her first draft sent over to print. Her first novel. Over the moon, was not a strong enough phrase for the feelings she was having. She was excitable. Comfortable. She even knew all her neighbors. Galway had embraced her with both arms. Who would have expected a mere month ago. I had no prospects, no direction or drive. Now, here I am being the most eligible and sort out lady in Ireland. "P A Featherington" a good place to start, If they believe the author a man then I would be able to make substantial benefits from my writings.

I could make pretend that I am merely the authors assistant. No one would be the wiser. No one expects a woman to read or write. One day this world may change and more ladies may lead the way to be authors in their own right. For now, however. I will just mark a path for the future. A future that Eloise and myself can be proud of.

Oh El. Just thinking of her name made my mood sour. I miss her so much. She would be so envious of this life I am now living. What would she make of me living with a man? Would she be shocked, surprised or impressed with my new friendship? Perhaps, one day when I am more established, I can show Eloise my reasons for doing what I did. I only ever think of the consequences. No matter how difficult they may be.

After my first book was published, I received a letter from a writers guild begging for another novel. One to overshine the last. I was happy to comply with the wishes of the publishers. Once again I was making money. Without Lady Whistledown. I have written as myself.

Blake and Pen would sit at the large table in the kitchen to eat and drink together. Somehow being in the dining room was a bit too much for the both of them. The kitchen seemed more personal. They didn't have to move far to take their food to the table and would take turns cooking. Considering the diet her family endured before cousin Jack left, this new concept was rather endearing. Pen was rather proud of her meat and potato meals. Blake would always prefer to cut the vegetables though, concerned for Pen's delicate fingers.

I enjoyed my time with Blake, he never made me feel low, he always raised my spirits when I was having a bad day. I found I would sometimes mention that if he lived back home, then I would have wanted to marry him just for the company. So I could happily keep his secret and he would let me have my privacy. He would always laugh it away. But in truth, he would have found it extremely tempting and sufficiently beneficial for the both of them.

The idea of dancing with the young miss at the balls and having a giggle over the Tafia sounded awfully tempting, indeed. Pen may of mentioned that she was not popular in society, but Blake could not believe that for a second. She was very much appreciated and respected through town. Nothing Pen liked better than introducing herself to the rest of town. All the time in unfamiliar surroundings gave her a sense of clarity. Her shyness dispersing leaving only a strong, empowering and friendly demeanor. If only her sisters could see her now.