Chapter Twenty-Five
Charlotte viewed herself in the mirror and cringed. In the five days since the glove had arrived, she’d slept fitfully, eaten very little, and cried quite a bit.
And looked it.
As horrible as it had been viewing the severed hand, the fact that whoever had done this had been in her bedchamber brought on another bout of nausea. She’d slept in the room Elliot had occupied since the discovery. Thankfully, Elliot had requested a special license, so they would not have to wait the three weeks for the banns to be called, and could marry immediately. Once he was here, in her house, every night, she might feel safe again.
He had questioned every one of the staff and had been convinced that no one had taken the glove, or had allowed anyone into her bedchamber. Of course, the glove did not just walk out of the house and into the hands of the perpetrator. That, however, was just one of many questions racing through her exhausted mind.
“Ma’am, you should try to eat a little more. You are not getting enough food to keep a small bird alive.” Bridget entered the room and eyed the tray of toast, eggs, and an orange that Charlotte had not even touched.
“I know.” She turned from the mirror and sat on the edge of the bed. “I will try to do better, but everything gets stuck in my throat.”
“’Tis a lovely day. Perhaps a short walk would do you good, and work up an appetite.” She loved the way her staff looked after her. Elliot had left strict instructions with Thomas that she was not to be allowed out of the house without the footman accompanying her. He also had the entire household checking windows and doors when they retired for the evening.
The strain had grown to the point where she was ready to sell the house and move away. Possibly to Bath. The waters there might calm her nerves.
An hour after luncheon, when she was able to force down a bit of the mutton stew Cook had made, she sat in her drawing room, trying desperately to read Miss Nellie Bly’s latest novel, wishing Elliot would finish up his work and return to her.
“Ma’am, Miss Garvey has called and asked if you were at home.” Thomas stood at the open doorway, his protective manner warming her.
Miss Garvey was not one of her favorite people, but she felt sorry for the woman in an odd sort of way. The poor thing must be lost since Mr. Talbot’s death. Charlotte had no idea what their relationship had been, but surely there had been some affection on either side for them to spend so much time together.
Even though she would prefer not to receive the woman, perhaps a bit of tea and conversation with her would distract her until Elliot arrived. “Yes, send her in. And please ask Cook for tea.”
Miss Garvey entered, looking ghastlier than ever. Her hair was in disarray, and her clothing wrinkled. If Charlotte believed she looked out of sorts, Miss Garvey looked far worse. She must be suffering, and Charlotte vowed to make this visit as pleasant as possible for the poor woman. “Won’t you have a seat, Miss Garvey? I’ve sent for tea.”
The woman sat, clutching her coat around her.
“Would you be more comfortable if you took your coat off?”
Miss Garvey shook her head and continued to stare at Charlotte. A growing uneasiness sent shivers up her spine.
“How are you getting on?”
Miss Garvey’s eyes bore into her, then she abruptly shifted in her seat, making Charlotte jump. Good Lord, she was on edge. But something about her guest alarmed her. She’d never been completely comfortable with the woman, but now her heart pounded, and a fine sheen of sweat broke out on her face.
“Fine,” Miss Garvey mumbled.
“I noticed you did not attend the assembly last week.” Charlotte fisted her skirts, her damp palms creating a mess of wrinkles that would have to be ironed out later. “We missed you.”
“Did you? You and Mr. Baker?” She snarled his name, her voice so low, she had to lean forward to hear her guest.
“Yes.” Charlotte tried a cheerful smile. “It was a lovely event.”
The door opened, and Thomas entered the room with a tea tray, reminding her that everything was normal, it was just her overwrought nerves playing tricks on her. She waved at the table between her and Miss Garvey. “Just set it down there, Thomas. Thank you.”
Every nerve in her body was strung as tight as a bow, and she took a deep, calming breath, telling herself this was foolishness. Miss Garvey was most likely distraught at the death of her friend, which explained her strange attitude.
Once Thomas left the room, Miss Garvey stood and walked to the door. Was she leaving? Charlotte sighed in relief. Instead, the woman closed the door, flipped the lock, and then turned to face Charlotte, leaning against the door. “I wish to discuss something personal with you, and I would prefer if your servants did not hear.”
Although it did not seem possible, Charlotte’s heart sped up, almost choking her. She had the urge to barrel past Miss Garvey out of the room. Then she berated herself. Her nerves had been rattled of late, and she was seeing danger everywhere. Perhaps the poor woman needed a female confidante. “Certainly, Miss Garvey. If you feel more comfortable with the door closed, that is fine.”
Miss Garvey nodded and returned to the chair she’d vacated. Charlotte picked up the teapot, not surprised that the tea splashed onto the table as her hands continued to shake. She glanced at the long clock in the corner, hoping Elliot would arrive soon. “How do you like your tea?”
“Cream and sugar, if you please.” Then she stared directly at Charlotte. “But then you know that, don’t you?”
Confused, Charlotte smiled and fixed the woman’s tea. If she pretended everything was normal, perhaps Miss Garvey would do the same, and she could get this blasted visit over with. She passed her the cup and then fixed her own. She tried desperately to find a subject for conversation, and unfortunately, ended up with the weather. “It looks as though the colder weather is definitely on its way.”
Miss Garvey took a sip of her tea and regarded her over her cup. Her sunken cheeks, pale skin, and dark piercing eyes reminded Charlotte of a corpse. She shuddered.
“What is it you wished to speak with me about? You mentioned a personal matter? What can I help you with?”
Her guest put her cup down and leaned forward. “Stop this act, Anne,” she hissed. “You do not fool me.”
Charlotte frowned. “I’m sorry, Miss Garvey, my name is not Anne, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her heart was pounding so loud, she was sure Bridget could hear it upstairs.
“Don’t try to pretend you don’t know me. You know what we shared. You know you belong to me, and to me alone.”
Charlotte went on full alert, all the blood draining from her face. It had not been her imagination, or her nerves. Something was definitely wrong with Miss Garvey, and the time for politeness had ended. She stood. “If you will excuse me, I just remembered an engagement for which I must prepare. I will escort you out.”
With one quick move, Miss Garvey whipped out a huge kitchen knife and stepped between Charlotte and the door. Amazed at how quickly she moved, Charlotte just stared at her, her mind a complete blank. There was a loud buzzing in her ears, and she felt as though she might faint. Somehow common sense told her with the large knife in Miss Garvey’s hand, fainting was not the best thing for her to do.
She had to compose herself and get out of the room. In one piece.
“Sit down, Anne. And don’t call out. It’s long past time we had this conversation.”
The knife was big enough to slaughter an animal, and it appeared Miss Garvey was quite comfortable with it. As if a bright light had lit up the room, Charlotte understood completely. Her jaw dropped, and she gasped. “You’re the one who has been leaving the packages on my doorstep.”
“Yes, of course it was me. I had to punish you, Anne. You have been a naughty girl.”
Charlotte closed her eyes, hoping when she opened them, this nightmare would be over. She licked her dry lips and tried once more to reason with the woman. “Miss Garvey, please listen to me. You are mistaken. I am not this Anne you are referring to. My name is Charlotte, and before you appeared at our social events, I had never met you before.”
“Silence!” Miss Garvey waved the knife around, coming quite close to Charlotte’s face. She jerked back, certain if she hadn’t, she would have lost her nose. Dear God, if only one of the servants would attempt to come in. Finding the door locked, they would know something was amiss.
She could not scream for help. Before anyone could break down the door she would be dead. Miss Garvey was slight, but Charlotte remembered from hugging her once that she was quite muscular.
Miss Garvey sneered. “You are trying to do it to me again. I told you the last time when you tried to leave me for that man”—she spit the word out—“that I would not lose you. You belong to me.”
She used the knife to wave to the settee at the far end of the room. “Sit down.”
Charlotte was frantic. If the servants had followed Elliot’s orders, the French door leading to the patio was locked. As were all the windows.
They both sat, and Miss Garvey’s shoulders slumped. “We had such a wonderful relationship. Do you remember the good times we had? The times I spent making love to you?” Her face grew dark. “And punishing you because you had been bad? Don’t you remember, Anne?”
Making love to me?
Her stomach churned and the room became stifling, the walls closing in on her, taking away her air. She had to keep her senses, or she would end up dead. She moved to the end of the settee. “Tell me about the good times we had.” Maybe if she could keep Miss Garvey talking, it would distract her and give Charlotte time to figure out how to escape.
“Move back, Anne.” The deep voice almost didn’t seem to come from the woman. Then she smiled like a young girl speaking of her first love. “We loved each other. When you were afraid, I held you. When you were lonely, I read your favorite books to you.” The knife seemed to slip from her hand, but she quickly recovered and grasped it again.
“I didn’t want to kill you, you know.” She shook her head in sorrow. “No, I didn’t want to kill you, but you were determined to leave me, so I had to. You knew I was your Master, and always would be. Only I didn’t expect you to turn up here in London. How did you do that? I thought you were dead.”
Miss Garvey was obviously deranged. Charlotte could not get to either door without passing the woman and her very large knife. Keeping her talking would be the best thing to do until one of the servants attempted to enter and found the door locked. Or Elliot appeared.
Dear God, please let Elliot come soon.
…
Not wishing to wait for the omnibus, Elliot hailed a hackney and directed him to Charlotte’s townhouse. After reading Talbot’s concerns about Miss Garvey in his journal, it all came together, and he realized they had been mistaken. Charlotte’s tormentor had not been a man. Who would have thought a woman was behind it all?
Apparently, the mistake Talbot had made was confronting Miss Garvey with his suspicions, which was his last notation in the journal. Since Elliot was quite sure Miss Garvey had been the one to hire the man who had first beaten him, and then shot at him, she was no doubt responsible for Talbot’s death. The fact that she had his hand to stuff into Charlotte’s glove pointed to her as the murderess.
No doubt the woman was mentally unbalanced, but why she had focused on Charlotte for her attentions remained a mystery. But now, he needed to get to Charlotte and warn her to stay clear of the woman. Once he had assured himself that Charlotte was all right, he would notify Scotland Yard to arrest Miss Garvey.
Then, finally, they could put this all behind them and start their life together.
The hackney pulled up in front of Charlotte’s house, and Elliot alighted and paid the driver. “No need to remain. I will see myself home.”
The man tipped his hat and moved on. Elliot took the stairs two at a time and knocked on the door. Thomas answered immediately. “Good afternoon, Thomas. I assume Mrs. Pennyworth is at home?” She had better be since she was under orders from him not to leave the house unless Thomas was with her.
“Yes, sir, she is in the drawing room.” Elliot headed in that direction when Thomas’s words reached him. “She is entertaining Miss Garvey who arrived a short time ago.”
Elliot came to an abrupt stop, and his stomach muscles twisted. He turned back to Thomas. “Did you say Miss Garvey is with Mrs. Pennyworth right now?”
“Yes, sir.”
He patted his pocket to be certain his pistol was there. He pulled it out and checked that it was loaded. Hopefully, he would not need it, but he had to be careful. He also had to be cautious in entering the room. Miss Garvey’s visit could be quite innocuous, or it could be deadly. He had to be prepared for anything. “Thomas, have you heard anything unusual since Miss Garvey arrived?”
“No, sir. The only odd thing was after I brought in the tea tray, the door to the drawing room closed. Ordinarily, Mrs. Pennyworth leaves it partially open when she is entertaining.”
Elliot dwelled on Thomas’s words for a moment. He could think of no reason why Charlotte would change her normal habits, except if she was forced to do so. Cautiously, he moved down the corridor and leaned his head against the door. Faint mumbling was the only sound, and he made out Charlotte’s voice. She was safe, but he did not know for how long.
Taking a deep breath, he attempted to unlatch the door and found it locked. His heart thudded, and he broke into a sweat. There was only one reason the door would be locked, and that was not a good one.
Elliot turned, Thomas right behind him. “Is there a key to this door?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get it.”
He kept his ear to the door while he waited for Thomas. Once in a while he heard Miss Garvey’s raised voice. He considered shooting the lock, but if Miss Garvey had a gun, she might kill Charlotte before he could even get into the room.
Where the devil is Thomas?
The footman raced up, with Mrs. Blanchard right behind him, her face flushed, key in hand. He put his finger to his lips to keep them from speaking. They nodded as he took the key from the housekeeper’s hand and carefully inserted it into the lock.
He moved the door latch up and eased the door open. Charlotte sat facing him, her eyes growing wide as she saw him. Miss Garvey had her back to him and was speaking earnestly to Charlotte. He moved silently a few steps until he saw a large knife in Miss Garvey’s hand. He slowly slid his hand into his pocket and grasped his pistol. Afraid to approach her from behind, lest she become startled and attack Charlotte, he moved around her chair until he came into her view.
Miss Garvey sucked in a breath of air. “What are you doing here? I locked the door.” Her lips twisted into a snarl. “You are the reason Anne no longer wants me.”
Elliot looked over at Charlotte and mouthed, “Anne?” She shook her head and shrugged.
The woman was mad. The only thing he could do, short of killing her, was to play into her discourse and try to dissuade her from hurting Charlotte. “Miss Garvey. If you do love Anne, I suggest you put the knife down. You certainly don’t want to harm her.”
She narrowed her eyes and raised the knife, causing Elliot to lose his breath. She would have to lunge to reach Charlotte, but he was not certain he could stop her with a bullet before she did.
“Don’t think you can fool me. Anne tried to run away with another man. Yes, that’s right. You look surprised. She’s tried this before. But I stopped her. And I will stop her again.”
“It seems your anger should be directed more toward me. Aren’t I the one who is taking Anne from you? Why don’t we let her leave the room, and you and I can talk this out? Maybe come to a compromise.”
“She’s not leaving,” Miss Garvey snarled. “You are leaving. Now. Go.”
There was no way he was leaving Charlotte in the room with a madwoman. He pointed to the tea tray. “I see you have tea. I could use some myself. Why don’t we discuss this calmly?”
Miss Garvey didn’t move. “You know, I thought for a while that Talbot would snare Anne from me. I had my eye on him. Then you came along, and the sniveling idiot started asking me questions. Why is it men cause so many problems?” She turned to Charlotte. “It was so much better when it was just you and me.”
She seemed to lose focus for a minute, but when Elliot shifted, she snapped her eyes at him. “Don’t move.” She looked back at Charlotte. “How did you like my last present?”
“Was that Talbot’s hand?” Elliot moved a bit closer to Charlotte as he spoke.
“Yes. Wasn’t that clever?”
“How did you get Charlotte’s glove?” Now was the time to find out if one of her staff had betrayed her.
Miss Garvey’s eyes narrowed. “She is Anne. Anne. Say it! Anne.”
“My apologies. How did you get Anne’s glove?”
She waved her hand. “Easy. One time when I was here for tea, I asked to use the facilities and wandered into her bedchamber. Her room even smelled like Anne. I just had to have one of her things to sleep with at night, until I could have her back alongside me.”
“And the bracelet, and spiders? That was very clever. It certainly had us guessing.”
Miss Garvey smiled, apparently enjoying the credit as her due.
“I asked Talbot to buy that bracelet for me. Nosy shopkeepers ask too many questions. And the spiders? Ah, yes. Wasn’t that ingenious? Anne loves spiders, so I knew if I took a couple of those from Talbot’s house, it would remind Anne that even though I had to kill her, I still love her.”
She turned to Charlotte, her features softening. “I still love you, Anne. I will always love you. It broke my heart when I had to kill you.” Two tears tracked down her cheeks, almost making Elliot feel sorry for the disturbed woman.
Abruptly, Miss Garvey’s eyes darted around the room, and her legs began to shift, as if she were growing restless. He didn’t know what the demented woman’s intentions were. Was she here to force Charlotte to go with her? Or to kill her?
If he didn’t get the knife off Miss Garvey, she was liable to rush forward and plunge it into Charlotte before he could react. The strain was showing on Charlotte’s face, and she looked as though she might collapse at any moment. It was time to draw this entire matter to an end.
“Miss Garvey, I understand your distress. Truly I do. However, holding Anne hostage with a knife will not win you her favor. I suggest you put the knife down.”
“No! I have to kill her again!” She turned from Elliot and lunged in Charlotte’s direction, the knife raised above her head. Charlotte screamed and threw her arms up, then scrambled away, huddling in the corner of the settee.
Elliot whipped the gun from his pocket and pulled the trigger. Miss Garvey swung her head around, her eyes growing wide. She dropped the knife and grabbed her middle where blood oozed from between her fingers.
She stumbled toward Charlotte and with her hands extended toward her, collapsed at her feet.