The Hidden Gallery: Chapters 1–2

The blushing pink circles that typically adorned the cheeks of Lady Constance Ashton were now as scarlet as two ripe nectarines.

“It appears that Lady Constance is in high dudgeon,” Miss Penelope Lumley thought to herself, as she stood just outside the doorway of the lady’s private parlor.

And this habit of blaming the three Incorrigible children for all sorts of things that were simply not their fault—at least, not entirely—was vexing, to say the least.

Lady Constance clutched the edge of her vanity, panting with distress.

It was not an ideal opportunity to beg a favor, but “She who waits for the perfect moment to act will never make a turn at a busy intersection,” as a very wise woman named Agatha Swanburne once remarked, so Penelope forged ahead.

“And Lord Fredrick is so blasé about the whole thing! ‘All in good time,’ he says, in that indifferent way of his, but of course he is at his club more often than not, so nothing that goes on at Ashton Place troubles him; why should it?”

“And Lord Fredrick is so blasé about the whole thing! ‘All in good time,’ he says, in that indifferent way of his, but of course he is at his club more often than not, so nothing that goes on at Ashton Place troubles him; why should it?”

Surely such a paradoxical place would be well worth a visit.

Penelope could not tell whether Lady Constance’s sudden notion of relocating the entire household was excellent news or the worst possible turn of events.

I have many, many friends in London. So does Fredrick, though I find most of them tedious, especially that awful Baroness Hoover—something about her makes my skin positively crawl—but enough of that!

Optimism, and persistence, and the knack for getting impossible tasks well in hand, despite false starts and mishaps—a useful mix of traits best summed up by the word “pluck”—had been at the very heart of Penelope’s education at the Swanburne Academy for Poor Bright Females.

For, no matter where fate, happenstance, or wanderlust might carry her, Penelope was a Swanburne girl, through and through.

But the fateful appearance of that mayhem-inducing squirrel was the topper.

Penelope puzzled over these mysteries daily, and had even paid a surreptitious visit or two to the attic while the children were otherwise engaged.

All three children lifted their shining eyes to Penelope, and one of them (she could not tell which) whimpered imploringly.

If they could be taught, by patient repetition and the judicious use of treats, to live indoors, eat cooked food (liberally doused in ketchup, of course), appreciate the rudiments of poetry, and even perform complicated dance steps, as the Incorrigibles had already, impressively, done, who was to say that dear Nutsawoo, somewhere in the shallows of that simple, frantic squirrel brain, might not appreciate receiving a picture postcard from London?

“Of course we will send postcards to Nutsawoo. And we shall bring him back a present as well. In fact,” she went on, with the instinctive knack every good governess has for turning something enjoyable into a lesson, and vice versa, “I will expect all three of you to practice your writing by keeping a...

In Lady Constance’s case, this meant a heartrending bout of weeping, followed by the threat that she would succumb to something called a “conniption fit” if Lord Fredrick did not agree to her plan that instant.

In Lady Constance’s case, this meant a heartrending bout of weeping, followed by the threat that she would succumb to something called a “conniption fit” if Lord Fredrick did not agree to her plan that instant.

In Lady Constance’s case, this meant a heartrending bout of weeping, followed by the threat that she would succumb to something called a “conniption fit” if Lord Fredrick did not agree to her plan that instant.

In Lady Constance’s case, this meant a heartrending bout of weeping, followed by the threat that she would succumb to something called a “conniption fit” if Lord Fredrick did not agree to her plan that instant.

The children, whose tendency to get carried away was exceeded only by their eagerness to please, looked crestfallen.

The other two made apologies as well, using the socially useful phrases they had studied so diligently.

Could they repeat a few pithy phrases in Latin?

They were, however, prone to mischief, especially when in high spirits.