Page 18 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
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Charlotte stared at Mr. Baker, his question echoing in her ears.
Are you keeping something from me? Is there anything at all in your background you need to tell me before I continue my investigation?
It had occurred to her more than once that perhaps Lord Bartonhadfound her and was the one behind the leavings, but that was not his style. Had he found her, he would march right up to her front door with a constable in tow and have her arrested. “Certainly not.”
He studied her for a minute, then leaned back in his chair. “Since I am here, I would like to interview your staff. I have a man watching your front door, and he reported this morning that nothing had been left. Obviously, that was not true, and I will address that issue with him when I leave here.”
“Do you wish to speak with just the men?”
“No. Any one of the female staff may have seen something that might help us.”
Charlotte sighed. “Very well.” As much as she would like to drink the sedative the doctor left and retire to her bedchamber, it was necessary for her to help in any way she could.
She rose from the settee and pulled the brocade cord. Within minutes, Bridget hurried into the room. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Please ask Mrs. Blanchard to gather all the staff and direct them to the drawing room. It will be necessary for them to speak with Mr. Baker.” She did not employ an immense amount of people. Just Cook, Mrs. Blanchard, Bridget, Beatrice, Thomas, her coachman Bones, and Malcolm, the groom. Certain times of the year she hired a gardener, but there had not been one on staff for a few months.
Bridget gave a quick dip. “Yes, ma’am.” As she turned to go, Charlotte said, “One minute.” She turned to Mr. Baker. “Have you had luncheon, Mr. Baker?”
“No, I was on my way home from my morning activities when your coachman delivered your message.”
“Bridget, please have Cook send in a light luncheon for Mr. Baker.”
“And you.” His deep voice right behind her made her jump. When had he crossed the room? He was so quiet, his stealthy movements battered her already stretched nerves.
She tried hard to quell her pounding heart. “I am not hungry.”
“Nevertheless, you must eat something, or you will faint again.” He took her by the elbow and escorted her back to the settee.
Well, then.
He was now directing her life? Even though she agreed with him, it was hard to allow him to command her. “I believe I am adult enough to know when I need to eat.”
His raised brows were his only answer. With their eyes locked almost in combat, she relented, thinking she could probably eat a little bit, if that would move this along so she could put the dreadful morning behind her. “Yes, Bridget, I will have something, as well. Mrs. Blanchard can begin sending in the staff one at a time when we are through with luncheon.”
“I know you have a sedative from your doctor, but given your paleness, I believe a small sip of either sherry or brandy might help steady your nerves.”
Why in heaven’s name did this man sound as though he was ordering her around, and at the same time offering practical suggestions? It would not do for her to allow him to assume he could take such liberties.
He grinned. “I can see you trying very hard to disagree, but you know it is for the best.”
Pulling her skirts close, she moved around him, her chin in the air, and headed for the library.
“Stay here, and I will get it for you.”
He returned with a half-full glass, and in a fit of defiance, she gulped the entire thing, and was overtaken by a fit of coughing that negated her cheekiness. A soft chuckle from Mr. Baker annoyed her even further.
After they consumed a luncheon of bread, cheese, cold beef, fruit, and tea, the stream of servants to be questioned began. The first one, Bones, stood in the center of the room, twisting his cap in his hands, looking decidedly uncomfortable.
Never having had reason to examine him so closely before, she hadn’t realized how very slender the man was. Apparently, his slight frame had something to do with his name. He shifted from foot to foot, nervously licking his lips.
“It is all right, Bones, Mr. Baker will merely ask you a few questions, and then you may return to your duties.” Charlotte didn’t bother offering him a seat since she knew he was quite anxious to get the interview over with. Bones was not comfortable in the house.
“How long have you worked for Mrs. Pennyworth?” Mr. Baker drew his pad forward on the small desk he had moved from the corner of the room to the middle. Charlotte sat on the edge of the settee, eyeing her empty glass, wishing she had the nerve to excuse herself to fetch another one.
“Since Mr. Pennyworth bought the house, back in ’78,” the coachman answered.
