Page 11 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
Whichever way they arrived, their lives were better, but certainly not wonderful. Porridge, bread, and the occasional piece of meat or fish made up their daily diet. Rarely, did they see fresh fruit and vegetables. Charlotte had worked out a deal with the local dairy to supply the home with milk at a reduced price.
Most of the children suffered from illnesses directly related to malnutrition. The city of London provided some coinage, and other money came from wealthy benefactors, but most funds had to be cajoled from those more fortunate.
Charlotte spent a good deal of her time attending various fundraisers, begging on behalf of the children. She would give much more of her own money, but the tidy sum Gabriel had left her was controlled by his solicitor, and although he was happy to pay her dressmaker bills, he chafed at money being given to St Jerome’s.
A strange way of looking at things, from her viewpoint, and another reason to not trust a man. Gabriel had claimed to love her, but it wasn’t until his death that she’d discovered how little he had trusted her. She could barely make a move without consulting Mr. Daniels, the trustee. Although, as the pompous man had sniffed as he’d pointed out to her, she was lucky to have the funds, since she and Gabriel had only just married.
He acted as though she had married Gabriel to do away with him and get his money. There had been no reason to explain to Mr. Daniels that she would much have preferred her husband to his money.
She detested the little man and hated when she found it necessary to deal with him.
Charlotte spent the next couple of hours attempting to reduce Annie’s fever, and assisting the woman employed to deal with the infants. She loved holding their little bodies, and the ache for one of her own followed her home after each visit.
* * *
“A Mr. Bakercalled for you, ma’am.” Bridget, the parlor maid greeted her as she entered the house.
“Oh, I am sorry I missed him. Did he say if he planned to return?”
“Not sure, ma’am, he spoke with Mrs. Blanchard.”
Charlotte removed her hat and cloak and handed them to the girl. “Please have Mrs. Blanchard attend me and ask Cook to send a simple lunch to the drawing room.”
No fire had been laid, but Charlotte made a mental note to tell Mrs. Blanchard to see to having the fireplaces prepared for winter. It would be nice to be able to start a fire now to warm up the space.
Perhaps the chill had not come from the air in the room, but from her time at St. Jerome’s. She enjoyed her time there, but she always left with a heavy heart, knowing what she did was so little compared to the children’s needs. Money. That was what would help the little mites have a better diet, warm clothes, and sturdy shoes.
“You sent for me, ma’am?” Mrs. Blanchard arrived with all the dignity that was her due. Unused to servants before her marriage to Gabriel, it had taken her some time to learn how to deal with them, to not make friends with them, and to observe the servant hierarchy by which they lived.
“I understand Mr. Baker called today.”
“Yes, ma’am, when Bridget told him you were away from home, he sent for me.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Thomas, her combination footman and butler, arriving with her luncheon. She instructed him where to place it and returned her attention to her housekeeper. “What was his intention in sending for you?”
“He wanted information on the servants. He asked if we had any new staff, in particular, male staff. That was mostly what he wanted.”
She startled. “Mostly? What else did you discuss?”
Mrs. Blanchard flushed. “He asked some questions about you, ma’am. How long you were married, when Mr. Pennyworth died, that sort of thing.”
“Despite being employed to help with the unwanted packages situation, Mr. Baker has no need to pry into my life.” She cringed at the brusqueness of her words.
The poor woman’s face flushed even deeper. “Yes, ma’am. However, I told him no more than what is publicly known.”
Charlotte felt sorry for snapping at the woman, and the tension left her body. She had thought it might be unwise to hire a private investigator—always in the back of her mind the pending charges against her. Would he be so diligent in his duties as to uncover that? Would he act on that knowledge?
Not for the first time, she considered whether there was a connection between her dilemma and Lord Barton. Then, she dismissed the idea. It had been so long, and her name had changed. He would have to be quite clever—which he was not—to find her after all this time. Of course, he could have hired someone, but she doubted if his desire for her was that strong. Most likely, he’d already turned his unwanted attention to another unfortunate employee.
“It is all right, Mrs. Blanchard. I will speak with Mr. Baker and impress upon him that he is not to question anyone in my household without me present.” She turned toward the lovely array of food Cook had sent. “You may return to your duties.”
Charlotte poured her tea and while she ate the tasty finger sandwiches and fresh fruit, her mind wandered to Thursday’s assembly. With Mr. Baker again attending as her escort, it would soon become a matter of speculation as to exactly what their relationship was.
She quelled the twinge of excitement at the thought of being in his strong arms as they danced. Quickly, she chastised herself. She needed to put those ideas aside, being finished with the male gender. They could not be trusted and since she had the means to support herself, there was no need to seek another husband.
* * *
The Master dangledthe beautiful diamond and ruby bracelet, the light catching the jewels, causing an array of rainbow-colored specks to dance on the wall. Beloved Anne would be surprised and thrilled to receive it. She loved jewelry, the more expensive and flashier, the better.
The humming stopped at the thought that Anne still needed punishment. How dare she bring that man with her to the poetry reading? The plan had been to sit alongside her, and enjoy her lovely company, discussing the poems, and absorbing her familiar scent. Instead,hehad taken up the space next to her, with Mrs. Davis on the other side, so there’d been no room. Anne should have known better, since she knew flirting was against the rules. Rules made for her own benefit, to keep her from making mistakes that required punishment.
And this man seemed so crass! Large and bulky, and far too much at ease with Anne. The man had not appeared to be a gentleman, and when they’d been introduced, it had taken all the control mustered not to spit in his arrogant face.
Reining in justified anger, instead, thoughts wandered to leaving the lovely bracelet on her doorstep, along with a small, but potent reminder that she needed to behave herself. Beloved Anne should already know to whom she belonged. How many times had there been occasions to impress that very idea upon her?
If that horrible man accompanied her once again, even stronger punishments might be called for. A smile burst forth. Yes, more punishments. A faint giggle erupted.
