Page 24 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
Charlotte nodded her agreement since her mouth dried up at his comment, and she doubted she could form any words. She had always been an upstanding, honest individual. Yet, if he uncovered the warrant for her arrest, she would look quite guilty.
Then she grew angry. Who was he to judge everyone by such a narrow definition of honesty? She’d never done anything dishonest in her life, but still she had that blot on her character.
Unfairly.
If anything convinced her that she was much better off not telling Elliot about Lord Barton, his black and white view of the world, and his opinions on law breakers solidified her decision. She would keep it all to herself and pray he did not discover it.
The carriage plodded along, leaving behind the affluent neighborhoods, through the less prosperous, and finally, to the decrepit slums of St. Giles. Waste and garbage lined the streets, small children in ragged clothes darted between buildings. Most of the urchins had been taught almost from the cradle to steal.
So many of them would die before they reached adulthood. The few who did survive would spend their lives on the noisy, dirty streets of London’s disgrace until they were knifed in the back or run over by a carriage as they stumbled home drunk.
The women walked the streets, offering their worn bodies for a glass of gin, or a piece of bread. Any children they had were left to take care of themselves. Only the truly lucky children were the ones who made it to St. Jerome’s.
The familiar, dilapidated building of the orphanage came into view as the carriage rounded the corner of St. Giles Street. Although the rest of the street bore all the marks of poverty and hopelessness, the front of St. Jerome’s was swept clean, the steps washed.
Elliot looked around as they alighted from the vehicle and, gripping her elbow, moved her toward the steps. Although she’d never felt unsafe before, truthfully, she was glad to have him with her today. Her current situation had her on edge, so that even something she’d done for months, and had always enjoyed, seemed sinister.
A small girl, no more than six or seven, with a torn, filthy dress, and bare feet, stuck a cluster of weeds at them. “Flowers for yer lady, sir?”
Elliot stopped and bent to the child. “Yes, I would like your flowers.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a coin that he placed in her small dirty hand. “I’m giving this to you if you promise you will buy something to eat with it. Don’t give it to anyone else.”
Looking confused, she nodded her head.
He took the weeds and bowed. “Thank you, miss.”
The little girl giggled, revealing small white teeth, with the front two missing, and ran.
“That was very nice of you, Mr. Baker.”
His lips tightened. “So many, with so few resources.”
It was nice to see the gentler side of the man. Perhaps he wasn’t so rigid, after all. “I do hope she buys something to eat with that money,” Charlotte said as they watched the child dodge between pedestrians, and carriages.
The pained expression on Elliot’s face, this big strong man so staid in his opinions, did something to her insides. “Chances are she’ll bring the money to a mother who will drink it up, and maybe, just maybe, buy a bun or biscuit for the girl.” Elliot shook his head, and they climbed the stairs.
The usual chaotic order greeted them as they passed through the door to the main room. Mrs. Robbins, the manager and main attendant to the children, waved a half of a biscuit in front of little Sarah, who had her arms wrapped around her middle. Charlotte hurried over to the poor girl, who was looking worse by the second. “What happened, Mrs. Robbins?”
Mrs. Robbins continued to stare at the little girl as she spoke. “This little one here ate something she wasn’t supposed to, and now she’s claiming a belly ache. Serves her right for stealing.” She gave the girl a swat on her bottom.
“Oh, no, don’t spank her, please. You can see she is in distress.” Charlotte kneeled and looked at Sarah. “Does your stomach hurt, poppet?”
Sarah nodded and winced. As Charlotte placed her hand on her forehead, Sarah moved her head to the side and brought up the contents of her stomach onto the floor. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Pennyworth, but I feel sick.” With those words, the little mite collapsed, with Elliot rushing forward to grab the girl before she hit the floor. Her face was covered in sweat, and her small body shook.
Charlotte stood and waved at Elliot, with Sarah in his arms, to follow her to the kitchen where they laid her on one of the small cots surrounding the perimeter of the room. “Get me a bucket, please.”
She grabbed a thin blanket from another bed and covered Sarah’s trembling body with it. “What did she eat, Mrs. Robbins? It appears whatever it was has upset her stomach something dreadful.” The poor child continued to moan and grasp her tummy. Elliot placed the bucket next to Sarah, who made use of it while Charlotte and Mrs. Robbins talked.
“This biscuit,” Mrs. Robbins said, holding out the half biscuit she’d been waving in Sarah’s face when they entered the house.
“Where did it come from? Is this one of the biscuits from the kitchen?”
The manager shook her head. “No, ma’am. That was why she was in trouble. It was one of your biscuits.”
“Mine?”
“Yes. Early this morning, a package arrived on the front steps with your card attached to it. I brought it in and left it on the kitchen table.” She glared at little Sarah as the girl continued to hold her stomach and moan. “This one got into the box and ate half of one before I could stop her.”
Elliot moved so fast, he was almost a blur as he crossed the kitchen and picked up the box sitting on the table. He took out a biscuit, crushed it, and examined the crumbs on his palm. He smelled, and then tasted it. “Thank God she only ate a half. I can’t say for sure, but my guess is this box of biscuits has been poisoned.”
