Page 13 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
The light from the assembly hall rose before them in the fog, like a welcomed beacon guiding a ship to shore. The carriage rolled to a stop and the door opened. Elliot stepped out first, then turned to assist Mrs. Pennyworth. She gave him a slight smile, as if to set a more pleasant mood than the ride had been.
The room was already full when they entered. Women in colorful gowns gave the space the look of wildflowers in a summertime field. A lively melody played from a small orchestra tucked into the northwest corner, with couples taking advantage of the music as they dipped and twirled around the floor.
After leaving their outerwear with a footman at the door, Mrs. Pennyworth smoothed her dress and took his arm as they entered the dance.
They both received small cards on which to enter names of dance partners. It didn’t surprise him that they barely took a few steps when Mrs. Pennyworth was swamped with hopeful partners. While she smiled and nodded, and wrote down names, he watched each gentleman—how close he stood to her, how he regarded her, and if he moved away to allow another gentleman to step forward.
Once her admirers had moved on to other women, he turned to her. “I hope you saved a dance for me.”
If she’d been as surprised by his request as he was, she didn’t show it.Why the devil do I want to dance with her?He was here to do the work for which he’d been hired: observe and take mental notes.
She held out her wrist where the dance card dangled from a small ribbon. “There are only two dances left.” He glanced at it. A waltz and a cotillion. He wrote in his name.
Her eyebrows rose. “You filled in the waltz.”
“Did I? I hadn’t noticed.” Of course he’d noticed, and told himself it was a better idea to seize a waltz so they could speak without being overheard. Compare notes, and all that. He pushed aside the annoying voice reminding him they would have the carriage ride home to do just that.It is better to coordinate while they are still at the assembly, so I can instruct her, he told the annoying voice.
Just then a gentleman approached, his attention riveted on Mrs. Pennyworth. With the music starting up again, Elliot assumed he was her partner for the upcoming dance. He bent his head and murmured into her ear, dismissing the fragrance wafting from her. “Don’t forget to introduce me to every gentleman you encounter. Otherwise, I might be forced to attend one of my clubs to meet them outside of these events.”
“You belong to clubs?”
“Yes, although I seldom grace them with my presence. Not such lofty clubs as White’s and Boodles, but the ones I’m sure some of these gentlemen might frequent.”
“Mrs. Pennyworth, I believe this is my dance.” Her partner was tall and lanky, with a mustache and a slight scar running from the edge of his mouth to his jawline. Despite the scar, the man emanated cheerfulness and sincerity, but one could seldom assess what was in another’s heart by mere presentation.
Mrs. Pennyworth took Elliot’s hand and drew him forward. “Mr. Talbot, may I introduce you to Mr. Elliot Baker?” She glanced at Elliot. “Mr. Talbot was a dear friend of Mr. Pennyworth.”
The man nodded in Elliot’s direction. “My pleasure.” He glanced toward Mrs. Pennyworth. “And a dear friend of yours, as well, I hope.”
Mrs. Pennyworth blushed and Elliot studied Mr. Talbot a bit closer as the man extended his arm to Charlotte. They walked to the dance area and joined the queue to begin the country dance. Deciding it would look suspicious if he spent the entire evening watching Mrs. Pennyworth and her various dance partners, he approached the few women he had met at the poetry reading to request dances.
Once he had a respectable number of names written on the card, and tucked away into his jacket pocket, he spotted two men from the poetry reading, sipping on some sort of drink and having what appeared to be a lively conversation. Grabbing a drink of suspicious nature from the refreshment table, he joined them.
* * *
An hour later,Charlotte released Mr. Glenmoor’s arm and joined the other ladies in the line of dancers. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed the interaction with other people, while she’d been in mourning.
Hers was not a world occupied with many lords and ladies, but honest, hard-working people: merchants, solicitors, doctors. Some had inherited their wealth, but due to how it had been handed down, would not be received in the circles of the upper crust.
When she considered her beginnings—in service for years—she counted herself fortunate to be accepted by these people. Of course, being married to Gabriel had done much for her social position.
As the music began and she moved with the familiar steps, she noted several new faces in the crowd. She especially took account of new men, since she doubted those she’d known for a while would suddenly begin behaving in such a bizarre manner as to leave unwanted, and disgusting, things on her front steps.
“Mrs. Pennyworth?” The woman alongside her touched her on the arm as they separated from their partners and joined the line once again.
Charlotte smiled at her. Another fairly new face, she thought Miss Garvey had been at the poetry reading earlier in the week. “Yes, good evening, Miss Garvey.”
A slightly plump woman, Miss Garvey appeared to be in her mid to late thirties. Brown hair, with some gray had been pulled back in a rather severe bun at the nape.
“It is a pleasure to see you once again. I hope you are enjoying yourself.”
The woman offered her a warm smile. “Indeed, I am. I don’t wish to appear presumptuous, but I wonder if I might ask a favor of you.” They moved away from each other to circle with their partners, then were back in the line again. “I had hoped to increase my social circle in London and heard you are just the person to help me in that quest.”
“I shall be delighted to help you adjust, Miss Garvey. I am having an afternoon tea next Tuesday, if you are free.”
The woman’s face lit up. “I would love to come. What time?”
“I will send along a note with the information. If you have a card with you, just leave it with the man at the door, and I’ll collect it when I leave.”
