Page 38 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
Mrs. Pennyworth
September 24th
11 AM
Charlotte,
I apologize profusely. I had no call to send such a scathing note. Being cooped up in my rooms is no excuse. Please forgive me, and I will be happy to accompany you to the Penrose dinner. We are both intelligent adults, so surely we can come up with a reason for my injuries.
Warmly,
Elliot
September 24th,
2 PM
Dear Elliot,
Thank you so much for the beautiful roses. I think we have both been somewhat irascible of late. I appreciate your concern for my well-being, but I have arranged with Mr. and Mrs. Murdock to pick me up and deliver me back home to the Penrose dinner tomorrow night.
Warmly,
Charlotte
* * *
Sick to death of sitting in his rooms, Elliot tossed aside the latest note from Charlotte, grinning at the change in her temperament. Roses generally did the trick, but in all honesty, he had been an arse. His only excuse was his confinement, the fact that he’d been taken so unaware by the attack, and that Charlotte might be in more danger than he had initially considered.
Although certainly not fit to escort a woman to a social event, there was no reason he could not visit his club. A quick look in the mirror over his shaving stand showed the scratches had healed and the black and blue marks had faded to a sickly yellow and purple. His nose, thankfully, had not been broken in the attack, and the swelling had gone down.
Mrs. Murray had been quite attentive, bringing him soup three times a day. He still did not understand why women believed a bowl of soup cured all ills. Wrapping up against the unusually chilly day, he left his rooms and breathed in the fresh air. Well, as fresh as London air could be. The short walk to his club did quite a bit to restore his good humor. He made sure to keep an eye on his surroundings, and anyone nearby.
He handed his coat to the man at the door and spotted Christopher Jennings across the room. He and Jennings had attended school together as youths and managed to stay in touch throughout the years. Married to his wife for several years, with three little Jennings running about his house, the man represented the epitome of a contented married life, something Elliot had often envied.
“What the devil happened to you?” Jennings lowered the newspaper he’d been reading, as Elliot took the seat across from him.
“A bit of a mishap.” He waved at the footman to bring him a brandy. “Those of us who do more for our living than sit behind a bank desk, run into trouble now and then.”
Always easy-going, Jennings only grinned at the insult and took a sip of his drink. “Ah, but I have three little ones at home who provide me with quite enough in the way of mishaps.”
Once again, Elliot had reason to envy Jennings his life. Soon Elliot would have to seriously consider taking a wife. The thought had always been at the back of his mind, but lately, the idea of settling down appealed more and more. More so since he’d made the acquaintance of one Mrs. Gabriel Pennyworth.
He could easily see her in the role of wife.His wife. The thought brought both pleasure and concern. Was he ready to give his heart away again?
Elliot leaned forward, the glass of brandy dangling from his fingers. “How well did you know Mrs. Jennings before you married?” He hoped he didn’t sound like a fool, but he was always the private investigator.
What he’d learned about Charlotte during conversations with her acquaintances was a bit of a surprise. It had seemed Charlotte had popped up in London almost two years ago, with no prior information on her life forthcoming. She’d been an employee of a London bank where her late husband held his accounts. From what he’d learned, they’d met, courted, married, and within weeks she’d become a widow.
The few times he’d questioned her, she’d become flustered and uneasy. As his client, it made no difference what she was hiding, as long as it didn’t pertain to her current situation, which he had no reason, as of yet, to believe it did. Some people were very cautious about opening themselves up and protected their private life closely.
On the other hand, if he were to seriously consider courting her, whatever she held firm to her bosom could become extremely important. He would not be made a fool of again by a pretty face and a charming smile.
“I met my wife through my mother. Miranda and her mother were members of a sewing circle Mother belonged to. Since mothers are notorious for matchmaking—mine being no different—it was only a matter of time before Miranda and her parents were invited to dinner.”
“And what happened?”
Jennings grinned again. “We thoroughly disliked each other.”
