Page 78 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
Even the footman turned pale when Elliot asked him for it. “I would have preferred to toss it into the fire, but I knew you would want to look at it. I wrapped it in a cloth and placed it on a high shelf in the kitchen.”
“Get it for me, please.”
The man was obviously uneasy with Elliot’s request, but he had to see for himself what they were all in a dither over. He paced the entrance hall while he waited for Thomas. How the devil had another package arrived? With the way Charlotte had described finding it, there had been no one lingering around for them to question. A niggling doubt prodded at him. Could he have been wrong, and it hadn’t been Talbot harassing Charlotte?
Thomas returned, holding the wrapped package. Elliot took it from his hands, and his heart thudded. This was not just a glove. It was much too heavy. “Thank you, Thomas.”
Not wanting to upset Charlotte again, Elliot took the package to the library, closing the door behind him. He placed the item on the desk and stared at it for a minute. Then, he removed the cloth, and studied the innocuous-looking white satin glove. But he knew, by everyone’s behavior, that there was more to it.
He picked it up. It was stiff, hard. Not just a glove. He turned it around, and immediately dropped it on the desk. His breathing increased, and he broke into a sweat. Dried blood had stained the edge of the glove, with a smear going up one side, the brownish red streak wrinkling the satin, pulling it together. The fabric had been stretched, breaking the threads on two of the fingers.
He closed his eyes, trying to erase the image from his mind.
Stuffed inside Charlotte’s white satin evening glove was a severed human hand.
* * *
Charlotte pacedthe Aubusson carpet in her sitting room. Her arms gripped her middle as if to keep herself in one piece. She might never feel safe again. The horror of finding that hand stuffed into her own glove brought bile up the back of her throat.
“Charlotte?” After a light tap, Elliot entered the room, thankfully not holding the glove. He held his arms out and she walked into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his middle, and tucking her head against his chest. “What does it mean?”
He walked her over to the settee in front of the window. The sunny day made a mockery of the horror she had just witnessed. “I don’t know. I thought this would all end when Talbot died.”
“Do you suppose Mr. Talbot was not the one leaving the packages?” How could they have been so wrong? Everything had pointed to the man, even though she still had a difficult time accepting it.
Elliot leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs, and ran his fingers through his hair. “One thing I can say for certain is Talbot did not arrange for that to be left on your doorstep.”
“How can you be so certain?”
He took her cold hands into his warm ones and rubbed them. She felt as though she would never be warm again. “I have every reason to believe the hand inside that glove belongs to Talbot.”
She reared back. “What?” The gasped words barely made it past her dry lips.
He nodded and stood. “When Talbot’s body was found, his hand was missing. Scotland Yard believed animals had gotten to him.”
“Oh God.” Charlotte jumped up and raced through the doorway to her bedchamber. She flew across the room to the chamber pot, leaned over, and brought up her last meal.
She fumbled in her dress pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her mouth. Blindly she stumbled to the dresser and poured a glass of water from the pitcher, rinsed out her mouth and spit into the bowl. Wearily, she walked back to the sitting room.
“I think you should take the tisane Bridget mentioned and try to lie down for a while.”
“I can’t,” she wailed then turned, her hands fisted at her side. “Don’t you understand? The monster was here in my room! Right here in my very bedchamber! He took one of my gloves!” Her knees gave way, and Elliot rushed forward to catch her before she hit the floor.
He carried her out of the bedchamber and brought her to the room he’d used when he stayed here and placed her on the bed. “Thomas!”
The footman raced up the stairs. “Yes, sir.”
“Have Cook fix a tisane for Mrs. Pennyworth.”
“Yes, sir.”
Charlotte rolled to her side, bringing her knees up to her chest and moaned.
* * *
Elliot satwith her until she drank the tisane and fell asleep. When he was sure she was in a deep slumber, he made his way downstairs in search of Bridget. He found the young maid in the kitchen, sitting at the table, looking quite pale herself. “I placed Mrs. Pennyworth in the room I used a few weeks ago. She should not return to her own bedchamber until this is solved. I suggest you take a lie-down also. I am sure Mrs. Pennyworth would be fine with it.”
“Oh, thank you, sir. I believe you are correct; I am not feeling quite the thing right now.”
