For Stardust Sanctuary
Penelope Woodville was not easy to please. She was fickle as the day was long, but she knew exactly what she liked and what she wanted.
Even if it changed every few hours.
So when she announced at the breakfast table that she was going to run away to America to become a bandit type lady, her father continued to read the morning paper, smoking his pipe, and her mother simply stated that would be all right, so long as she didn’t associate herself with any of those young loose American women she had read about in the papers. Her brother simply rolled his eyes.
If Penelope Woodville was anything, she was stubborn. Stubborn and determined. Put off by her family’s disinterest, Penelope Woodville made a long speech as she finished her morning tea and breakfast about how she would thrive in America and there wasn’t anything her family could do or say to stop her. The truth of it was that Penelope Woodville simply wanted to do something with her life and that was the most interesting and scandalous thing she could think of a the moment. She could move to America, she postulated, and find herself a Clive Barrow and become a real gangster’s moll (which was a term she had learned from Jennie Bartleby at the girls’ club, who had learned about it from her cousin in New York). Penelope hoped she had used the term correctly, but guessed it wouldn’t make that much of a difference to her ignorant family.
Her brother, on the other hand, had decided to wind old Penelope up and, after a good quarter of an hour, Penelope Woodville was beet red in the face and positively steaming from her ears as she blustered in answer to all of her brother’s inquiries and trivial statements about her trip to America and plan. At that point, Penelope Woodville stood up abruptly from the table, stormed out of the breakfast room to find her purse.
And just to prove a point, Penelope Woodville went out and bought a gun, a pint of whiskey, and some rather scandalous garters from the nearest shops.
Penelope Woodville had drained more than half of the whiskey when she went out into the park and promptly shot her last boyfriend. Just to prove a point.
Because that’s the kind of girl Penelope Woodville is.
... that went down a road that I wasn't expecting. But there it is! Sorry it's taken me so long to put up, @gothicity !!