Chapter 20
The wedding was a few days away, and Penelope needed to know what Henry was doing and if he had some special plan in that twisted mind of his.
“Helen, get ready. We are going for a stroll through the park.”
She looked at Penelope, her brow furrowed. “It’s cloudy and may rain soon, Your Grace.”
Penelope walked to the window and looked up at the sky. “Oh, it will be fine, Helen.”
Penelope took an umbrella in case she needed it, and they stepped down the townhouse stairs to the pavement. As she hoped, Henry followed Penelope. She ignored him, but that didn’t stop him from carrying on a one-way conversation with her.
“See, Penelope? I’m right here by your side. You can count on it. I will never leave you. All the way to the end. Your end.
“I don’t care about your wedding. I’m interested in spending time with you long after the wedding has taken place. I’ll follow you until the day you die, whenever that may be.”
It began to rain, so Penelope and Helen put up their umbrellas, and he turned around. They walked by Henry as if he weren’t there.
“Yes, it would be a shame if something bad happened, and you got sick or died. I would find that distressing. You’ve had a narrow escape before, and you were lucky you made it out. I hope your luck doesn’t run out.”
Penelope and Helen walked up the stairs, and the door of the townhouse opened. Coleman helped her with her coat. She went to her bedchamber with Helen and changed into a dry gown.
“I’ll be in the library at my writing desk,” she told Helen.
Nash entered the library and smiled at Penelope. “Hello. What are you doing there?”
Penelope lifted her head and smiled. “Just correspondence. It was a quiet day, so I thought I’d try to accomplish something.”
Nash nodded. “You’ve got the wedding jitters.”
Penelope laughed. “I do not.”
Nash smiled. “You do. It’s perfectly normal although you already know what you’re getting into. Don’t forget. We want them to see you go down the aisle.”
“Yes, but I still need to make the trip.”
“And what a happy trip it will be. I’ll see you at dinner, my dear.”
“Cecilia and Edward will be here.”
“Even better.”
Penelope slumped at her writing desk when Nash shut the door behind him. She didn’t want him to know anything about Henry’s harassment. If he knew she was documenting it, he’d know it was serious, and he’d get involved.
Penelope sat and took a long breath before beginning to write. She spent the better part of two hours writing, explaining every one-sided conversation she and Henry had. And she explained why she didn’t tell Nash.
When she finished three copies of the letter, she folded each one, and sealed them with her seal. She rose and went to Coleman.
“Have my carriage brought around, and let Helen know we are going out.”
The first stop was the office of the London Times newspaper.
“Hello, may I help you?” the clerk at the desk inside the door asked.
Penelope stood straight and summoned her most commanding voice. “Yes, Penelope Finch, Duchess of Norfolk to see the editor.”
The clerk rose to his feet and bowed. “Your Grace. This way.”
Penelope followed the clerk all the way to the back of the building, passing desks of workers with papers piled high in a haphazard fashion that made Penelope nervous the stacks would fall over at any minute. Paper littered the floor, and the wastebaskets were full of more paper, some crumpled up. Penelope couldn’t imagine working in this chaos.
“Mr Tomlinson, may I present the Duchess of Norfolk,” the clerk said then left, closing the office door behind him. Mr Tomlinson did not wear his suit coat and had pushed up his sleeves a few inches to keep the fabric out of the way of ink. His hair was mussed from having dragged his hand through it. Penelope guessed he did so very often given the state of his hair. Penelope did not think Mr Tomlinson shaved this morning. His face was a field of stubble.
Mr Tomlinson stood and bowed. “Your Grace.” He gestured to a chair. “Please, have a seat.
“May I offer you tea?”
“Thank you, Mr Tomlinson, but no. I have a rather unusual request of you. I would like to give you a document,” Penelope did not attempt to retrieve the document from her reticule, “to be published in the case of my death. Is that something you can do?”
Mr Tomlinson sat forward and put his arms on his desk. “That depends, Your Grace. What is the nature of this document?”
“This conversation is confidential, Mr Tomlinson?”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
“I am being threatened. The man who threatens me follows me through London’s streets. His threats began as small nuisances and inconveniences. They escalated and now include bodily harm and death.
“I want the information I give you to be under lock and key and to be used upon my death. What you publish will cause Scotland Yard to investigate and ultimately convict the murderer. Is this possible Mr Tomlinson?”
Mr Tomlinson sat back in his seat. “Your Grace. This is possible unless the man you name in the document is your husband. Under those circumstances, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to fulfill your wishes.”
Penelope smiled. “No, it is not my husband.”
Mr Tomlinson turned away then looked at Penelope. “Your Grace, may I ask why the Duke has not come, given the seriousness of the circumstances?”
Penelope sat straight in her chair. “My husband becomes very emotional to threats against me. When he is highly emotional, things have a way of becoming unpredictable.” She would not tell Mr Tomlinson that she believed she could handle this on her own, without the help of a man.
Mr Tomlinson stood and went to his safe, turning the wheel right, left, and right. Penelope heard the click and saw him grab the arm and push it down before pulling it out.
“Your Grace?” Tomlinson said as he walked to her. She pulled the sealed letter out of her reticule and handed it over.
Mr Tomlinson walked back to the safe, placed the letter in an area in the back, then shut the door and rolled the dial.
Penelope rose. “Thank you, Mr Tomlinson.”
He bowed. “Your Grace.”
Her next stop was the solicitor representing the Finch family and the Norfolk County seat. A clerk ushered her in to see Mr Matheson, and he closed the door behind him.
Mr Matheson stood and bowed when Penelope walked in. “Tea, Your Grace?”
“No. I won’t be here that long.”
Mr Matheson was a man in his late 30s who wore little round glasses. He constantly moved his head, shifting left, right, up, down to get the best angle to read a document in front of him.
For now, he put aside the document he had been reading before Penelope arrived and folded his hands on the bare wood of his desk.
“Mr Matheson, are the files you have on our business dealings locked?”
Mr Matheson looked surprised at the question. “Yes, Your Grace. Unless I am actively working on a folder, your papers are always locked.”
“And Mr Matheson, who can access these files?”
Matheson furrowed his brow but continued, “I have the only key. My clerks need to ask me to unlock a cabinet if they need access to a file.”
Penelope gave a small smile. “And Mr Matheson, besides my husband and myself, who can direct you to open those files?”
Mr Matheson patiently answered, “No one. Until you have a child. If you have a child, and the child has a guardian, then the guardian could direct us to open your files. When the child is old enough, no matter if under your care or the care of a guardian, he or she has access to the files.”
Penelope sat back in her chair. She smiled. “Thank you, Mr Matheson.” She took the letter out of her reticule and handed it to the solicitor.
“This is a letter summarizing the harassment I have received from a gentleman. The harassment has escalated to his threat of my death. I want you to lock it in your file and do nothing with it unless you hear of my death. If you do hear of my death, please take it to Scotland Yard so they can investigate and find the killer.”
“Your Grace, shouldn’t your husband be handling this?”
Penelope sighed. “I am a very capable person, Mr Matheson. I fear my husband would be very angry about these incidents, and someone might be beaten so bloodied that my husband’s actions would be counterproductive.”
“I see.” Mr Matheson nodded.
“Yes, I believe you do,” Penelope said. “So, here is the letter, to be opened upon my death.”
Mr Matheson came around the desk. He dug out his keys from his vest pocket and put a key in one of the cabinets located in his office. He opened the door and pulled out the files belonging to the Duke of Norfolk. After putting them on his desk, he took the letter Penelope gave him and added it to one of the files. He put the files back in the cabinet and locked the cabinet drawer.
Two out of three complete.
Avery’s butler Waters was surprised and pleased to see Penelope. He gave a small smile, but his eyes danced. She wanted to hug him, her fondness for him bubbling up, but of course, she did not.
“Waters, I am here to see Avery. Is he at home? I have a business matter I must speak to him about immediately. Preferably, in his study.”
Waters bowed. “I shall return shortly.”
True to his word, Waters returned. “He will see you in his study.”
“Uncle Avery,” Penelope said and curtsied.
Avery bowed.
“Have a seat, my dear,” he said while sweeping his hand toward a seat across from his desk.
“May I call for tea?” he asked.
“No, Uncle, not on my account.”
Penelope was surprised that Avery took the chair next to her instead of the one behind his desk. She adjusted her seat slightly and began.
“I’m not sure if you are aware of it, but Henry has been following me around. He is no longer welcome at the Duke’s home, so he follows me on the street. While following me, he makes wild remarks about how I became a Duchess as well as threatening me with bodily harm and even death.”
Penelope stopped, searching for a reaction in Avery’s eyes, but she found none. His mouth had a slight upturn on one side. She knew he thought she had no power against him or Henry, and this was a waste of his time.
She proceeded, “I had to give a lot of thought to how I could make Henry permanently stop harassing me. You may have already discounted me in your mind, thinking I, as a woman, even a Duchess do not have any rights and need to live with Henry.
“I have left a letter with the London Times and another with Nash’s and my solicitor explaining the circumstances under which Henry has threatened me.
“Should I die, the editor of the newspaper, as well as our solicitor, has been instructed to open the letters and use them to investigate Henry as the killer.
“An unflattering write up in the newspaper would, on its own, cause concern among your peers. A murder investigation would end your carefully constructed reputation.”
Avery was pale. So pale, Penelope thought he might pass out. He stared straight ahead avoiding Penelope’s eyes.
Penelope continued. “Uncle Avery, I never want to see or hear from Henry again. I believe you are the only person who can make this happen.
“I am going home now to tell Nash. I haven’t told him yet because I thought he might beat Henry to death and end up in jail. He may take out his anger at Henry on you and your reputation. I will attempt to stop him, but he won’t take the threat of murder lightly.
“I am counting on you to keep Henry away from me from this moment on. If he even attempts to attend our wedding, there will be an unflattering story about it in the London Times the next day. I will continue to go to the newspaper every time there is an incident. The ton devoured stories like this in the past. I see no reason they wouldn’t now. Who knows? The magistrate may have interest.”
Penelope stood, and Avery followed suit. She looked into his darting eyes. “Do we understand each other Uncle Avery?”
Avery stood still.
“Uncle Avery?”
He seemed to slowly wake as if so deep in his thoughts he was fighting to rise.
“Yes, Penelope. I understand. I’ll take care of it. Please don’t go around town in fear. Don’t limit your movements because of him,” he said in a low voice.
“Thank you, Uncle. I knew I could count on you. I’ll see you at the wedding.”
He looked surprised. “Am I still invited?”
“Of course. How would it look if you weren’t there?”
Penelope laughed and went home for her conversation with Nash.
About halfway through Penelope’s explanation of her actions to block Henry, Nash got up and started pacing. His hand went through his hair during every second or third turn on the floor.
By the end, he sat next to Penelope and pulled her hand between the two of his. “I’m your husband. I should take care of you and keep you safe.”
She gave him a small smile and tilted her head. “I know. That’s what frightened me. If you beat him as forcefully as I thought you would beat him, I would have to visit you in jail. I couldn’t bear that.”
“I wouldn’t be sent to jail.”
Penelope rolled her eyes. “Now we don’t have to find out. Avery will take care of it. He loves his reputation more than he loves Henry.”
Nash laughed. “I believe you’re right. We will enjoy our big wedding more knowing Henry won’t be there.”
Penelope sighed. “So true.”
Nash checked the mantle clock and kissed Penelope before ordering his carriage. Once he was gone, Penelope ordered her carriage and headed to see her mother and brother.
Penelope went through her story one last time and handed Edward the last copy of her letter. She had told Avery she had dropped them off at the solicitor and the newspaper.
Avery might have influence over their solicitor or the London Times, but he’d never get to Penelope’s brother. Both Cecilia and Edward read what Penelope wrote and agreed it covered the facts well. Both Cecilia and Penelope didn’t want Edward to tell them where he would hide it.
Now, she was ready for her wedding.