Page 72 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
“We must attend.”
Elliot nodded. Talbot’s death had ended any need for him to confront the man and go through all the legal machinations that would have been necessary had the man been charged with hiring the man who had beaten, and then shot at him. However, instead of feeling satisfaction at the closing of an assignment, he felt at loose ends. Perhaps it had ended too swiftly, too easily.
Too opportunely.
Or maybe he felt that way because he hadn’t gotten to accuse the man to his face and hear his explanation. That would always remain a mystery. Why had Talbot thought harassing Charlotte in that way would drive her into his arms?
On another note, Charlotte still had not answered his proposal. He watched her as she paced, growing paler by the minute. “Charlotte?”
“Yes.” She stopped in front of him, fumbling with the buttons on her gown. “What is it?”
“You don’t look well.”
She collapsed onto the settee. “Yes, I don’t feel well, either.” She turned, facing him. “I have known Mr. Talbot for some time, and I can’t help but remember how nice he was to me after Gabriel died.” Tears formed in her eyes. “He was such a source of strength for me. I just find it hard to…”
Elliot drew her to him, wrapping her in his arms. “I understand.”
Charlotte pulled back and studied him. “I did not want to believe he was the one. I really, really did not want to believe it.”
“Honey, the evidence was all there.”
“I know.” She wiped the corner of her eye with her knuckle. Elliot withdrew his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.
She smiled her thanks, and then proceeded to twist the scrap of linen into knots. “Oh, dear. I wonder if Miss Garvey knows. She seemed to be quite friendly with him. We have to be sure to notify her, oh, and some of our other friends, if Mr. Spencer is holding the funeral as soon as tomorrow.”
The thought of things to be done seemed to offer Charlotte some peace and control, which was a good thing.
“If you write notes to your friends, and give me a list, between me and Thomas, we can get them all delivered this afternoon. It would be quite sad if there were only the two of us at the funeral.”
“Yes. I can do that.” Charlotte retrieved a lap desk from a stand across the room and returned to sit with him. “One problem I already foresee. I don’t have Miss Garvey’s direction.” She tapped the pen against her lips. “As much as I am not too fond of the woman, she does need to be notified.”
“Would anyone else in your circle of friends know where she resides?”
Charlotte shook her head. “I doubt it. She first appeared with Mr. Talbot, and as far as I could see, she never became overly friendly with anyone else.”
“She is an odd duck.” Elliot would have preferred to call her something else after the cold reception he’d received from her at the last dinner party, but he agreed it was necessary to find a way to notify her. “Maybe Mr. Spencer knows more.”
“Yes. A good idea. Would you mind taking the carriage and going to the vicar’s house and seeing to that? In the meantime, I will write out the notes which you and Thomas can deliver when you get back.”
* * *
The morningof the funeral dawned perfect for the somber event. Low clouds threatened rain, the air was cool, and the last of the autumn leaves tumbled to the ground as he and Charlotte rode the distance from her townhouse to the small church.
Mr. Spencer stood outside, in his formal robes, as they drove up. Three other carriages arrived at the same time, all four coaches stopping behind each other. Elliot opened the door and held out his hand to Charlotte.
Nodding to each other, they all moved inside the church. Elliot was surprised to see Detective Longforth in the last pew of the church. It was not unusual for a police officer to make an appearance at the funeral of someone who had been murdered, especially when they were still looking for suspects. But Elliot thought they had determined that Talbot had been accosted by footpads, robbed, and then beaten.
Although all homicides were investigated, and all suspects sought, most cases of murder at the docksides went unsolved, and the paperwork was shoved into a file cabinet somewhere. Presently, every available detective was busy tracking down Jack the Ripper.
The crowd gathered, taking up three pews, with the casket in front of the sanctuary. Elliot recognized most of the mourners, all of them from the circle of friends he had grown to know through his association with Charlotte.
Mr. Spencer, of course, took the opportunity to berate those attending the funeral about the dangers to be had in frequenting unsavory establishments in dangerous locations. He had very little to say about the deceased, no surprise there, since Spencer hadn’t been vicar at the church very long.
Charlotte dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a perfume scented lace handkerchief. When she rested her hands in her lap, Elliot placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed. He recognized how difficult this must be for her since Talbot was also a link to her deceased husband.
While Spencer rambled on, Elliot’s thoughts drifted to Talbot, and the assumption that he’d been the one leaving the packages. There had been several things that pointed to him, but Elliot would have felt much better had he been able to confront the man. He still felt a sense of incompletion.
Once Spencer finished berating the mourners, he led the procession to the graveyard, where Talbot was to be interred. A light sprinkle started as they left the church. Elliot leaned in close to Charlotte, who had begun to shiver. “Perhaps it would be best if you waited in the carriage. There is no need for you to stand by the graveside.”
