Page 97 of A Foolish Flirtation

Mr. Penrose stiffened in his seat. “I hardly think—” he began but Emmie spoke over him.

“And what did she do?” she asked, turning to Teddy.

“She would just give him an object and tell him to furnish the room around it.”

Emmie blinked. “An object?”

He nodded. “In this room, it was this,” he said, skipping over to the six-paneled screen decorated with samurai. “She bought it in London.”

“Well, that would certainly make things a lot simpler,” Emmie said. “So, I simply find one piece of furniture that I like and then Mr. Penrose uses that as inspiration for decorating the whole room?” Teddy nodded.

“I do not think such a method would work in this instance. The first Lady Faris was a very unique woman of taste—” Mr. Penrose began in a patronizing tone.

“Well, she said you were a colossal bore who likely wore a corset,” Teddy interrupted him in his high, clear voice. “She said you creak whenever you sit down.”

Pinky made a muffled sound of distress.

Emmie murmured, “Teddy!” and held her hand out to him. He walked back from the samurai screen to stand dutifully beside her chair. Mr. Penrose turned an unbecoming shade of puce. “I have the very thing,” Emmie said, holding up a finger. “One moment!” Rising from her chair, she walked out and retrieved the papier-mâché tilt top table that had belonged to her own mother, carrying it back into the room.

She set it down before Mr. Penrose, who made a great show of recovering his dignity by whipping out some pince-nez from his waistcoat pocket and placing them delicately on his nose. He inspected the small table with a look of distaste on his face.

“It already looks like it belongs in here to me,” Teddy observed with a shrug. “It is black and gold and painted with flowers.”

Emmie was struck by the truth of his observation. “It does, doesn’t it?” she marveled, gazing around the room. “Do you know, I think with a few adjustments, this room could be made very comfortable. Do you not agree, Pinky?”

“Adjustments?” Mr. Penrose said frigidly. “Comfortable?” He spoke the word as though it was an insult.

“Yes,” Emmie continued calmly. “I do not like any of those chairs,” she said, taking in the inlaid seats with the sweep of her arm. “And these chaises are not plump enough. Instead, I want some nice comfortable seats that you can sink into, and some matching sofas. I will be joining some ladies’ committees at some point,” she remembered aloud, “so I need adequate seating in here. Also, a desk. I am supposed to write letters in here, so I have need of one.” Not that she knew who she would be writing to, but that was beside the point.

“Oh, that all sounds most appropriate,” Pinky chimed in loyally. “Why, I am certainly looking forward to sitting in our old chairs in Plumtree Cottage. Nothing so comforting as a good serviceable armchair.” She turned eagerly to Emmie. “I wonder, shall I go and request a nice pot of tea for us all?”

“You could ring the bell, dear,” Emmie suggested. “No need to walk all the way downstairs.”

“Oh, er—” Pinky turned a little flustered. “I am certain I saw Colfax’s livery flash past the doorway just a moment ago. I feel sure I can catch him before he descends.”

“Very well,” Emmie said with surprise, but perhaps after all, her friend wished to discuss some detail concerning Plumtree Cottage. Colfax had been helping her with the preparations a good deal. Pinky hurried out and Emmie turned back to Mr. Penrose. “Now what were we—?”

“Do not forget you need a statue, Mama,” Teddy interposed.

Emmie turned toward him blankly. “A statue?”

He nodded, lowering his voice. “You remember, Mama? The twin babies.”

“Ah, yes, the twin babies.” She turned back to Mr. Penrose, who was sitting stiffly upright in his uncomfortable seat. “If you could possibly source a sculpture of twin baby boys from antiquity, holding a pair of snakes, I would be most grateful.” Mr. Penrose stared at her, open-mouthed. “If that is not possible,” she continued calmly, “could we perhaps commission one? After all,” she said, glancing around the room, “now that we will not be replacing all this other furniture, we could use the budget on the sculpture, could we not?”

Mr. Penrose made a spluttering sound, but it was clear he was defeated by this point. He inclined his head and scribbled some notes in his book. “A statue. Antiquity. Two male infants. Two snakes.”

“And they must look as though they are all getting along famously,” she stressed. “The babies and the snakes must be on the very best of terms.”

It seemed he could think of no rejoinder for this. Instead, he asked in shaken tones, “And for your bedchamber, Lady Faris?”

Emmie was momentarily surprised, for she had gained the distinct impression that Mr. Penrose liked to draw out his consultations as much as possible. Now it seemed he could not get their business over with soon enough. They had not even mentioned her bedroom up until this point.

“Ah, now that I do want completely changed,” she admitted. Although she liked the blue of the wallpaper, she was not the greatest admirer of orange, and since the table, cushions, and lamps had been removed, the room was looking a little bare.

Teddy sat up in his seat. “I bet I can guess,” he said. “One moment!” He darted from the room, and Emmie and Mr. Penrose sat in awkward silence. If his suggestion was something dreadful, Emmie wondered if she dared suggest a rose garden as theme. Was Mr. Penrose sufficiently crushed to accept such a suggestion now?

Teddy reentered, brandishing a small statuette of Venus. “Am I right, Mama?” he asked eagerly.