Page 53 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
“Good evening, Dr. Sanford. This is Mr. Baker, who escorted me to a dinner party this evening. When we arrived home, someone shot him.”
The doctor’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed? How very strange. Were you able to apprehend the culprit?”
“No. I’m afraid it all happened so quickly, and I was more concerned with getting Mr. Baker inside to tend to his injury. We never thought of that.”
“You will want to be sure to notify the Watch.” The doctor shook his head as he opened his medicine bag. “Bad business. London’s becoming a very unsafe place.”
After the beating Elliot had taken, and now this shooting, the doctor had no idea how unsafe her own little world had become.
* * *
Elliot wincedas he rolled onto his side at the request of the doctor. The gunshot wound hurt like the devil. It was total stupidity on his part. He should have been much more careful after the warning he’d received from the footpad who’d attacked him.
He still hadn’t concluded what game the culprit was playing. Thoughts that had plagued him since the beginning of the investigation went round and round in his mind. Why was he leaving these things on the porch? To merely frighten Charlotte? Did these things have some sort of meaning for the man leaving them? Why Charlotte? Had their culprit made overtures to Charlotte that she had rebuked?
If only he could get her to tell him what she was hiding. Once they’d dealt with this bullet, he would have a serious talk with her. Even if she wasn’t hiding anything—which he doubted—there was a reason she was being targeted, and until they got to the bottom of that, catching her tormentor was almost impossible.
He’d been a private investigator and police officer long enough to know that behind every criminal and every crime there was motivation. Money, greed, power, revenge, jealousy—those were the things that drove someone to put themselves on the wrong side of the law.
While leaving dead animals and live spiders on a woman’s doorstep did not constitute breaking the law, having him beaten—and shot at—certainly did.
“Let’s see if we can get this bullet out of you, Mr. Baker.” The doctor pulled long tweezers from his bag and looked up at Charlotte, hovering over the bed. “I have laudanum with me for his pain after I leave, but we need something now that will work quickly so I can get this nasty business over with. Do you, by chance, have spirits in the house?”
“Yes, I do. Will brandy work?”
“Yes. That is perfect.”
Charlotte turned to Bridget. “Fetch the bottle of brandy from the library.” The girl scurried off as the doctor took more implements out of his bag.
“You have done an excellent job of cleaning the wound, Mrs. Pennyworth, but I need to swath it with alcohol to disinfect it.” He looked at her puzzled expression and continued. “That means to clean it further, so I will give Mr. Baker some of the brandy to drink, and then use alcohol from my medical bag to clean the wound.” He unrolled a white cloth and laid it alongside him on the bed. Then he placed various instruments on the cloth. “Ma’am, may I count on your assistance, or shall we call back the footman?”
Charlotte paled, but she swallowed and raised her chin. “Certainly not, Dr. Sanford, I will assist you in whatever you need me to do.”
He nodded. “Good. I don’t need any females swooning when I get to the tough part.”
Bridget returned with the brandy. Charlotte took the items from her and pouring a healthy measure into a glass, held it out to Elliot. He tried to sit up, then groaned and fell back when the pain in his arm shot right to his stomach, threatening to bring up his dinner.
“Wait.” Charlotte moved alongside the bed, near his good shoulder, then sat. With a minimal amount of pain, he raised himself up on his good elbow as she moved the drink to his lips. Having been through a bullet wound before, he knew what to expect once the procedure was underway, so he gulped the contents of the glass.
Dr. Sanford accepted the cloth from Bridget. He took one look at her and smiled. “Young lady, I think you would serve your mistress better if you went to the kitchen and prepared some tea.”
Relief flooded Bridget’s face, and she scurried away. The doctor poured some of the alcohol on a clean cloth, then patted it on the open wound. Elliot bit down, his teeth grinding enough that he feared his jaw would snap. “More brandy,” he gasped to Charlotte.
She poured another healthy dose in the glass, and he gulped that down. He laid his head down on the pillow and closed his eyes, using a form of meditation he’d learned from a Chinese man who’d lived in the same boarding house with him years ago. That, combined with the brandy he’d drunk, would help him get through the procedure.
“Mrs. Pennyworth, would you please pour a bit of liquid from the bottle of alcohol into that glass?” She held it out to him and he dipped his pinchers into the clear liquid. “Are we ready?”
Elliot nodded and tightened his fists. He took a deep breath as the doctor began his probe. Charlotte’s cool hand took one of his and she squeezed as he let out a low moan.
“This won’t be too hard, young man. Just lie as still as you can and we’ll have this nasty fellow out in a flash. Luckily, it didn’t go too far into your muscle. He probed some more, and Elliot squeezed Charlotte’s hand so hard he was afraid he’d break one of her delicate fingers.
The only sound in the room, besides his labored breathing, was the clicking of a small pink and white China clock on the dresser directly across from the bed. He focused on that, using his meditation skills once more, to bring his thoughts and consciousness to somewhere pleasant.
“Mrs. Pennyworth, hand me that tin plate.” The doctor nodded at the small dish he’d placed alongside his instruments.
Elliot had no intention of releasing her hand, so Charlotte swiveled, and picked up the plate with her other hand, holding it out to the doctor. A plop sounded from his arm, and then a slight ping as the bullet changed homes from his arm to the dish.
* * *
