Page 88 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
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Small men with very large hammers had taken up residence in Elliot’s head. He moaned as he lifted himself off his bed. Pressing his hand against the wall to stop the dizziness, he glanced down at his wrinkled clothes. He hadn’t even taken them off before he had collapsed into bed in a drunken stupor the night before.
This nonsense had to end. Charlotte had been arrested three days ago, and he needed to get on with his life. He had clients who were expecting results. He took a step forward, fighting the nausea along with the banging headache.
After a bath and a shave, he made breakfast, and forced it down. Amazingly enough, it didn’t come right back up, but actually helped him feel a bit better. The first thing he needed to do was stop by Charlotte’s house and make sure the staff was all right with her absence. He preferred to avoid the place altogether, but someone had to look out for her house. How long would she be away? How serious were the charges?
I don’t know because like a coward, I crawled away and left her to her own devices. Nice job, Elliot.
He hushed the condemning internal voice. He’d already lived through a woman playing him for a fool over stolen jewels. He could not allow that to happen again. He caught the omnibus and walked the final distance to her house.
A very stiff and unwelcoming Thomas opened the front door. “Good morning, sir. How may I help you?” He didn’t back up to allow him to enter.
Well, then.
“Good morning, Thomas. I stopped by to see how all of you were getting on.”
The footman’s brows rose. “Indeed? And why is that, Mr. Baker?”
Elliot fumbled for a moment. “I thought with Mrs. Pennyworth away, you might need some assistance.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, Mr. Baker, but there is nothing you can do to assist us. Everything you could have done you chose to ignore. Now, if you will excuse me, I have duties that need my attention.” He began to close the door and Elliot shoved his foot into the space, blocking the door.
“May I come in, and speak with you for a minute?” He was beginning to feel very uncomfortable with the footman’s attitude.
Thomas opened the door wider and stepped back. Bridget stood at the entrance hall, a scowl on her face, her hands on her hips. “What areyoudoing here?”
“I’m beginning to wonder myself.” Ever since his head had cleared from the overdose of brandy the night before, Elliot had been going over things he had noted about her during their relationship. Charlotte had never worn expensive jewelry. Charlotte did not live above her means. Charlotte did not have an extravagant wardrobe or household furnishings. Charlotte spent time working with poor children in the foundling home. Charlotte would give the dress from her body to someone in need.
A woman such as that would not steal an expensive necklace from her employer.
He ran his fingers through his hair. He’d made a tremendous mistake. His past with Annabelle had turned him so sour and bitter that he had abandoned the woman he loved when she needed him the most.
Yes, the woman he loved. Loved with his entire being. Who had turned to him fully confident of his help. Instead, he’d acted like a complete arse and walked out on her. His knees buckled at the thought of what she was going through and what he’d done. Indeed, he was every nasty word he could think of.
From the looks he was receiving from her staff—that is exactly what they thought, as well.
“Can we all sit down in the drawing room?”
Bridget and Thomas led the way. They were soon joined by Mrs. Blanchard, Cook, and Beatrice. Cook carried a stirring spoon and looked as though she wanted to whack him with it.
They all sat in a row on the settee and the two chairs flanking it. They formed a line of displeasure so intense his stomach knotted. “Thank you all for joining me.”
Silence.
“I think I might have made a terrible mistake.” He shook his head. “No, I must be honest. IknowI made a terrible mistake. You see, I love Mrs. Pennyworth—" Cook snorted, but he continued. “Years ago, I was duped by a woman who was involved in a jewel theft. I left Scotland Yard under a cloud of disgrace.”
Five pairs of eyes continued to glare at him. No sympathy here.
He jumped up and paced. “I realize I never gave Mrs. Pennyworth the opportunity to explain the entire situation.”
Bridget harrumphed.
He turned to them, his hands on his hips. “I came here today to check on all of you, but I’m beginning to understand I really came because I needed to speak to people who also love and respect Mrs. Pennyworth, and I knew whose loyalty would be solid.”
“Unlike yours.” Mrs. Blanchard muttered, crossing her arms over her ample bosom.
“This is all very well and good, Mr. Baker, but what do you intend to do about it? If your intention in coming here is to explain your actions to us, looking for forgiveness, you might as well leave now, and let us get back to our duties.” Cook’s eyes had softened somewhat, but she still waved the cooking spoon around.
