Penelope Tredwell-Blunt cried.
And cried and cried and sobbed,
and cried and cried some more.
Her father, the Vicar,
stood at her bedroom door
utterly confused and beset.

Each time he enquired as to the reason,
he was met with more sobs and cries.
Heart wrenching for her to produce
and even more for him to hear.
“Penny, my darling Penny!”
he begged “Tell me dear daughter,
tell me what I may do?”
He thought he’d made headway
when she stopped and sniffled,
but suddenly she resumed.

This dreadful day had been preceded
by a week of a stealthy relationship.
One of unanswerable bliss.
Zachary Edwards, her devoted beaux,
had been the requisite gentleman.
Surprisingly savvy for only thirteen,
he knew how to treat a lady.

Flowers on Tuesday
and again on Wednesday.
A poem on Thursday followed.
Friday brought a bag full of sweets,
a wonder as he was rather poor.
Saturday was a long letter
tied up in a red ribbon,
and Sunday was a note passed in Church.

But Monday was Betrayal!

Everyday since their romance began
they would secretly meet
on their way to school.
They would rendezvous
on the old stone bridge
that spans the River Lyddle.
This particular morning,
Penelope waited.
And waited and waited
and waited some more
for her dear Zachary to greet her.
But he did not appear.
She heard the bells
of the school peal out.
Lest she be late
she proceeded to school.
Alone.

But there in the yard
among the churlish lads
was Zachary
looking sheepishly pale.
Next to him in a fancy dress
with long curls falling about her shoulders
was another girl.
The ringlets were perfect -
perfect and blond-
with ribbons trailing down her back.
To make matters worse
her dress was of this season!
She held the attention of all the lads
but her arm was tucked in to Zachary’s.

The horrible memory
caused more wrenches of agony
as the Vicar spun about in perplexity.
The magnitude of her sorrow
was ultimately compounded -
by the simple fact
her father would not approve
of Zachary to begin with.
“Marriages must remain homogenous -
Never outside your class -
for matches reflect on us all!”
So, as much as she needed
her father’s dear comfort,
she kept silent as to the cause,
well, besides the sobbing, of course.

Zachary had glanced at her
with his deep brown eyes
with a look of slight confusion.
The Girl,
that wretched, wretched Girl
had clocked Penelope with
a deafening smile.
And with a wink – not even a nod -
led poor Zachary inside.

The skies had darkened
and fallen to pieces.
The birds had ceased their singing.
How could no one else see it?!
Penelope started to shake and quake
and spin in all directions.
The tears had started
to repeatedly fall
as she decided to run.

Out of the school-yard
and down the lane
beside the River Lyddle.
She reached the Bridge
with a fresh flood of tears
that carried her all the way home.

She had already flung herself
down on her bed,
when the Vicar found her with surprise.
He knew of no more questions to ask,
and silently cursed his wife for dying.
“She would have known just what to say”.
His sons would be no help at all.
Jonathan was useless and Andrew an ox –
neither had feelings
for such dealings with females,
unless it was chasing their skirts.

The Vicar, Jonathan Treadwell-Blunt
did his utmost to raise his daughter.
But he feared he’d fail
from the mere simple fact
that Penelope was a lone lass
among a household of men.

All he could think of to do
at this very moment
was to sit quietly by her bed
and exist in his confusion.
He held her hand,
so dainty and pale,
until the tears subsided. 
She fell into slumbers
as he stroked her hair
offering prayers of comfort.

Read more about The Village

Love So Green
An Ordinary Place
A Gentleman of a Certain Age
The Recipe Club
The Coy and Lovely Maid