Penny's POV
The late afternoon sun was shining into the parlour where Penelope slouched lazily on a cream coloured chaise. Life was so dull nowadays, no excitement or gossip to enliven her days. She lived for the times when she had been the young, beautiful Queen of society. Of course, she was still very well known and respected, but she felt that she was not quite so well respected as she used to be.
From the room next door, Penelope could hear the sound of Keller and little Charles, playing. Keller was the child of her dear friend, Elizabeth Cutting. Penelope knew that the child was not Mr Cutting's offspring, but the result of Elizabeth's first marriage to the low-life coach driver, William Keller. Penelope sometimes feared for the welfare of her own child when he was in the company of Keller, for as you know, a son always follows in his father's footsteps. A son…there was once a time when Penelope would rather have died than have children. Admittedly, her marriage to Henry Schoonmaker had not been a happy one and maybe if the circumstances had been different she may have thought otherwise.
Charles was the spitting image of his father. His skin was a tawny colour that suggested many days in the sun. His nose, broad but not so broad as to be considered unrefined, was slightly too large for his face but that would change as he grew older.
Penelope had not seen Henry in some months. She had been out with the occasional man but no one wanted a wife with a child of five years from a previous marriage. It would be considered beneath a man to make such a proposal.
Penelope looked towards the ceiling and sighed. This was not how her life was supposed to turn out. She was Penelope Hayes; she had been the most influential woman in Manhattan, her best friend had been the perfect Elizabeth Holland and she had completed her dearest dream – a marriage to Henry Schoonmaker. She had; the use of the past tense was like a blow to the head, she was a has-been.
She influenced nobody these days. Nobody would rush to read the gossip columns in hope of finding a new piece of news about the beautiful Miss Hayes. Nobody would care that she had once been the best friend of Miss Holland. Marrying Henry, that was certainly an achievement, but she wasn't married to him anymore. He ran off to Paris to be with that little slut, Diana Holland. It was all her fault. If that little curly haired siren hadn't seduced Henry, everything would have been absolutely perfect. But everything was not perfect and Penelope Hayes was stuck in a beautiful house, surrounded by her staff and her beautiful son and living a life that was slowly killing her. She was completely alone.