Chapter Twelve
September 23rd
1:00 p.m.
My Dear Mr. Baker,
It has been five days since I visited you last. Thank you for your kind note asking after my welfare. As you requested, I have not left the house, awaiting your recovery before I resume my social engagements.
I have received an invitation to dine at Sir Alfred Penrose and Lady Penrose’s home two days hence. Since that is only a short carriage ride, I believe I shall accept.
Yours sincerely,
Mrs. Charlotte Pennyworth
September 23rd
1:30 p.m.
Dear Charlotte,
You are not to leave the house unless I accompany you. I thought I was clear on that matter. I expect to have a full recovery soon.
Yours sincerely,
Elliot
September 23rd
2:00 p.m.
Dear Mr. Baker,
I assume you wrote your last note while not feeling quite yourself, because I am sure you did not intend to order me about.
As much as I love my home, I am quite weary of staring at its walls. A short carriage ride with Bones protecting me would not cause a danger.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Pennyworth
September 23rd
3:30 p.m.
My Dear Charlotte,
In retrospect, perchance I was a bit out of sorts when I penned my last note. I, too, am quite discontented with staring at my own walls. Unless you wish to be squired about town with an escort who resembles a pugilist, I suggest you continue to wait a few more days until I can accompany you on your so very important social life.
Elliot
September 23rd
5:00 p.m.
Mr. Baker,
So very important social life! Yes, perhaps my social life is important to me, but that is hardly cause to demean my life.
Mrs. Pennyworth
September 24th
11 a.m.
Charlotte,
I apologize profusely. I had no call to send such a scathing note. Being cooped up in my rooms is no excuse. Please forgive me, and I will be happy to accompany you to the Penrose dinner. We are both intelligent adults, so surely we can come up with a reason for my injuries.
Warmly,
Elliot
September 24th
2 p.m.
Dear Elliot,
Thank you so much for the beautiful roses. I think we have both been somewhat irascible of late. I appreciate your concern for my well-being, but I have arranged with Mr. and Mrs. Murdock to pick me up and deliver me back home to the Penrose dinner tomorrow night.
Warmly,
Charlotte
…
Sick to death of sitting in his rooms, Elliot tossed aside the latest note from Charlotte, grinning at the change in her temperament. Roses generally did the trick, but in all honesty, he had been an arse. His only excuse was his confinement, the fact that he’d been taken so unaware by the attack, and that Charlotte might be in more danger than he had initially considered.
Although certainly not fit to escort a woman to a social event, there was no reason he could not visit his club. A quick look in the mirror over his shaving stand showed the scratches had healed, and the black and blue marks had faded to a sickly yellow and purple. His nose, thankfully, had not been broken in the attack, and the swelling had gone down.
Mrs. Murray had been quite attentive, bringing him soup three times a day. He still did not understand why women believed a bowl of soup cured all ills. Wrapping up against the unusually chilly day, he left his rooms and breathed in the fresh air. Well, as fresh as London air could be. The short walk to his club did quite a bit to restore his good humor. He made sure to keep an eye on his surroundings, and anyone nearby.
He handed his coat to the man at the door and spotted Christopher Jennings across the room. He and Jennings had attended school together as youths and managed to stay in touch still. Married to his wife for several years, with three little Jennings running about his house, Jennings represented the epitome of a contented married life, something Elliot had often envied.
“What the devil happened to you?” Jennings lowered the newspaper he’d been reading, as Elliot took the seat across from him.
“A bit of a mishap.” He waved at the footman to bring him a brandy. “Those of us who do more for our living than sit behind a bank desk, run into trouble now and then.”
Always easygoing, Jennings only grinned at the insult and took a sip of his drink. “Ah, but I have three little ones at home who provide me with quite enough in the way of mishaps.”
Once again, Elliot had reason to envy Jennings his life. Soon Elliot would have to seriously consider taking a wife. The thought had always been at the back of his mind, but lately, the idea of settling down appealed more and more. More so since he’d made the acquaintance of one Mrs. Gabriel Pennyworth.
He could easily see her in the role of wife. His wife. The thought brought both pleasure and concern. Was he ready to give his heart away again?
Elliot leaned forward, the glass of brandy dangling from his fingers. “How well did you know Mrs. Jennings before you married?” He hoped he didn’t sound like a fool, but he was always the private investigator.
What he’d learned about Charlotte during conversations with her acquaintances was a bit of a surprise. It had seemed Charlotte had popped up in London almost two years ago, with no information on her prior life forthcoming. She’d been an employee of a London bank where her late husband held his accounts. From what he’d learned, they’d met, courted, married, and within weeks, she’d become a widow.
The few times he’d questioned her, she’d become flustered and uneasy. As his client, it made no difference what she was hiding, as long as it didn’t pertain to her current situation, which he firmly believed it did not. Some people were very cautious about opening themselves up and protected their private life.
On the other hand, if he were to seriously consider courting her, whatever she held firm to her bosom could become extremely important. He would not be made a fool of again by a pretty face and a charming smile.
“I met my wife through my mother, actually. Miranda and her mother were members of a sewing circle Mother belonged to. Since mothers are notorious for matchmaking—mine being no different—it was only a matter of time before Miranda and her parents were invited to dinner.”
“And what happened?”
Jennings grinned again. “We thoroughly disliked each other.”
Elliot laughed. “Why?”
“Most likely because there was a strong attraction between us, and neither of us wanted our parents to select our mate.” He leaned back and rested his foot on his bent knee. “We tried for weeks to ignore each other, but our parents made sure we were thrown together enough times that it became a chore to continue the charade.
“Eventually, we met once again at an assembly and waltzed. We did nothing the entire time but stare at each other. When the dance was over, I took her by the hand, dragged her outside, and proposed.”
“What did she say?”
“It’s about time.” They both laughed loud enough to catch the attention of a few other members who regarded them with raised eyebrows.
“That was certainly an interesting courtship.”
“Indeed, it was. We were so anxious for each other, we insisted on a wedding within weeks. When her mother complained about the rush, Miranda reminded her she had started it all.”
“And you’re happy.” It was a statement, not a question. Anyone who spent more than a few minutes in Jennings’s company knew he was happy, content, and in love.
Love.
Dare he even think of such a thing? Was he willing to take a chance again, suspecting there was something she was holding back? Of course, it could be something as simple as a spurned sweetheart.
His attention was drawn to Jennings as he stood, folded the newspaper, and placed it on the table in front of them. “Now I must pay the penance a man must in order to have a content life. Miranda becomes upset if I am not at home for the hour before dinner to inspect the little ones and listen to tales of their day.”
Elliot watched as Jennings walked across the room, his stride one of a man happy with his life, and anxious to return to it. He reached over and snatched the newspaper but soon found himself not reading the words, but instead, envisioned returning to his rooms, with no adoring wife to greet him, or little ones to climb on his lap to tell their tales of the day.
…
Charlotte tugged on her beige kid gloves as she joined Elliot at her front door. They were off to the Adelphi Theater, their first outing together since the attack. The dinner she’d attended a few days before had been nice, in that she was finally among friends again and not staring at her walls, but she’d missed him.
A startling thought, that.
He looked quite dapper in his polished shoes, well-creased trousers, fine wool overcoat, and silk top hat. In fact, they made quite a pair with her rose silk gown and matching fur-lined cape and bonnet.
Elliot extended his arm, and she took it, sneaking a final glance in the entrance hall mirror at the two of them. “We look quite stylish tonight, Mr. Baker.”
He helped her down the stairs and into the awaiting carriage, holding a large umbrella over them. “Indeed, we do look dashing, Mrs. Pennyworth.” Elliot glanced around the area, before stepping into the carriage.
He tapped on the roof, and Bones began the trek to the theater. They enjoyed companionable silence on the ride to the theater. The only sound was the familiar clip-clop of the horses on the cobblestones, and the creak of the carriage wheels as they turned.
They arrived early enough to take a stroll around the theater lobby before the call to take their seats. After surrendering their outerwear to a footman, Elliot tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “I understand Union Jack is quite a successful play.”
“Yes, it is. I have seen it before, but I never turn down tickets to the theater, so when Mr. Talbot offered them, I was happy to accept. Plus, I find that the various actors bring a different tone to the characters.”
“A very insightful observation, my dear.”
Charlotte loved the theater and had been thrilled when Mr. Talbot had appeared unannounced one afternoon with the tickets in hand. At first she’d been uneasy, since she had grown wary of his attentions, along with a few other men who Elliot had put on his “suspect” list. But, he had been ever the gentleman, presented the tickets, waved off her offer of tea, and bid her good day.
“It was very nice of Mr. Talbot to invite us.”
The tickets turned out to be excellent seats. Mr. Talbot had also invited Miss Garvey who insisted on sitting next to her. The woman was still a stranger to Charlotte, and there was something about her she found odd. She seemed to be a pleasant sort, though she spoke very little. Once or twice Charlotte caught her staring at her in a peculiar way. The thought crossed her mind that the woman sought Elliot’s attentions, and saw Charlotte as a rival.
Although Miss Garvey and Mr. Talbot appeared together at many functions, she didn’t think they were actually courting. She got the impression from the way they behaved toward each other that theirs was no more than a friendship.
Union Jack lived up to its reputation. The story of Captain Morton, a nasty sort who was blackmailing Sir Philip Yorke with a view toward marrying his ward, Miss Ethel Arden, captivated her. A poor petty officer, Mr. Jack Medway, fell in love with Miss Arden, and Jack’s sister, Miss Ruth Medway, was in turn seduced by Captain Morton. Sir Phillip killed the captain, and was arrested, which left Jack free to marry his love, Miss Arden.
The four of them took a short walk during the intermission. Mr. Talbot secured lemonade for him and Charlotte, both Elliot and Miss Garvey declining the offer for refreshment. “It appears you are loving all the intricate plot twists that are thwarting the lovers.” Mr. Talbot regarded Charlotte with amusement.
“But I am expecting a happy ending.”
He nodded. “It has been my experience that women love happy endings.”
“Only women? I imagine everyone loves a happy ending, do you not agree, Miss Garvey?”
The woman smiled for the first time that evening. “Yes, I think the idea of happy endings is what makes us step from our beds in the morning.”
Charlotte grinned. “Well put.”
A footman announced intermission had ended, and they headed back to their seats. “Happy endings?” Elliot leaned in, close to her ear. “Mr. Talbot was correct. Women are indeed staunch supporters of happy endings.”
“Are you suggesting men do not, or just you?”
“I am not like all men. Perhaps we should find someone to write a happy ending for your troubles.”
She smirked. “Isn’t that what I hired you for, Mr. Baker?”
“Ah, Mr. Baker again. I must be in trouble with the lady.”
Charlotte sighed. “I sometimes wish I had a magic wand that I could wave, and all my worries would vanish.”
“Yes, that would be wonderful, but at least we’ve had a nice—albeit temporary—escape.” Elliot guided her to their seats, and they settled in to enjoy the rest of the performance.
After the play, Mr. Talbot and Miss Garvey invited them to a late supper at Ship and Turtle on Leadenhall Street.
“I am sure you will enjoy the cuisine.” Mr. Talbot smiled broadly as they all took their seats. “I have eaten here many times and have found the food to be splendid.”
The menu did seem impressive, and there was plenty of discussion among the four of them about the best dishes to be had.
Once their orders had been placed with the waiter, Charlotte took a sip from her water glass and turned her attention to Mr. Talbot. “Did you enjoy the play?”
“Yes, I did, and you certainly seemed to. You were riveted.”
“Indeed. It amazes me how someone can take words and turn them into a book or a play. It takes a great deal of talent to entertain an audience.”
“Yet you said you have seen the play once before,” he said.
“I have seen it before, but the theater captivates me.”
As the conversation around the table continued, she couldn’t help but remember how much she liked Mr. Talbot and how helpful he had been right after Gabriel’s death. As he chatted easily with Elliot, she tried to imagine him running a sharp blade over a rat’s throat. She shivered and ran her hands up and down her arms. No, that just didn’t seem likely.
“Are you unwell, Mrs. Pennyworth?” Miss Garvey viewed her with concern, drawing Charlotte from her thoughts.
“No, not really. I just felt a slight chill for the moment.”
Elliot turned to her, breaking off his conversation with Mr. Talbot. “Perhaps you should put your cape back on.”
“He is right, Mrs. Pennyworth, we would not want to see you take ill.” Mr. Talbot frowned at her.
Goodness, such a fuss. She was beginning to feel embarrassed with their regard, but thankfully, the waiter appeared with their food. She leaned back to allow him to place her dinner plate in front of her and glanced over at Miss Garvey who was glaring at her.
Startled, she quickly looked down. Perhaps the woman thought Mr. Talbot was paying too much attention to her. She offered the woman a slight smile, and she smiled back.
Since Charlotte did not wish to encourage Mr. Talbot anyway, she had better be careful around him if Miss Garvey had a fancy for the man.
It was quite late when Charlotte and Elliot entered her carriage for the ride home. In all, it had been a pleasant evening, with Mr. Talbot very much like she remembered him when he used to visit her and Gabriel, which cheered her. She didn’t like thinking of him as someone evil.
Miss Garvey remained an enigma, but Charlotte was sure she had feelings for Mr. Talbot, which she found quite interesting.
To her surprise, instead of taking the seat across from her in the carriage, Elliot chose to sit next to her. The warmth from his body, and the pleasant scent of man, leather, and bergamot, did something odd to her stomach.
Perhaps she was merely tired.
As the vehicle started up, he took her hand in his and began to stroke the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist. “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”
His murmured question was lost by the sound of her thumping heart. She was squeezed so far against the wall she was practically climbing out the window. Unfortunately, she had an overwhelming desire to place her hand at the back of his neck and pull his head down for a kiss, although she knew it was not a wise move. The other kisses they’d shared had left her rattled, and unsure of herself.
“Am I making you nervous, Charlotte?” God help her, he moved even closer.
“No, of course not.”
Liar.
“Good. Because I want to do something that I hope you would welcome.”
“What is that?” A mouse had settled in her throat to squeak out the question.
“This.” He released her hand, and his fingers framed her face. His head descended, blocking out the light from the lantern on the wall of the coach. His lips touched hers, and the butterflies in her stomach danced a cotillion.
…
“Why are they still traipsing around together? I thought I paid you to take care of that.” M slammed down the glass of bourbon so hard, the liquid sloshed out of the sides, onto the black lacquered table.
The lumbering ox of a man discharged a stream of tobacco juice in the spittoon M kept by the door. Disgusting thing, tobacco. “You paid me ’o warn ’im. I did. You didn’ say nuttin’ abou’ killin’ ’im. If hats wha’ you wan, ’he price jus ’ripled.”
Narrowed eyes took in the fool who had been hired to get rid of this Baker fellow. “Whatever you did apparently did not dissuade him.” M turned toward the window. “Leave me now. Be sure to make that delivery.” A nod toward the package on the table drew the man’s eyes.
“Once you pay me.”
“I’ve paid you plenty. Make that delivery, and watch them. In three days, report back to me. Then we’ll see about more payment.”
And what the next step will be.
Once the obnoxious idiot had left, M dropped into the chair by the fireplace and sighed. This was taking much too long. Did Anne not realize the items left on her doorstep were a reminder of their love, and punishments that had been necessary to remind her to obey? That as a submissive to her master, she held no control?
How many times had Anne awoken to a dead animal on the pillow—as a reminder that she had been a naughty girl? That she was deserving of punishment for the hurt she’d caused her lover? Until the ultimate betrayal when Anne had been lost forever.
But she was back. Miraculously alive and well, and living in London. And M would have her. It was only a matter of time before Anne realized her mistake and that she’d been claimed for eternity.