Page 81 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
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Charlotte viewed herself in the mirror and cringed. In the five days since the glove had arrived, she’d slept fitfully, eaten very little, and cried quite a bit.
And looked it.
As horrible as it had been viewing the severed hand, the fact that whoever had done this had been in her bedchamber brought on another bout of nausea. She’d slept in the room Elliot had occupied since the discovery. Thankfully, Elliot had requested a special license so they would not have to wait the three weeks for the banns to be called and marry immediately. Once he was here, in her house, every night, she might feel safe again.
He had questioned every one of the staff and had been convinced that no one had taken the glove, or had allowed anyone into her bedchamber. Of course, the glove did not just walk out of the house and into the hands of the perpetrator. That, however, was just one of many questions racing through her exhausted mind.
“Ma’am, you should try to eat a little more. You are not getting enough food to keep a small bird alive.” Bridget entered the room and eyed the tray of toast, eggs, and an orange that Charlotte had not even touched.
“I know.” She turned from the mirror and sat on the edge of the bed. “I will try to do better, but everything gets stuck in my throat.”
“’Tis a lovely day. Perhaps a short walk would do you good and work up an appetite.” She loved the way her staff looked after her. Elliot had left strict instructions with Thomas that she was not to be allowed out of the house without the footman accompanying her. He also had the entire household checking windows and doors when they retired for the evening.
The strain had grown to the point where she was ready to sell the house and move away. Possibly to Bath. The waters there might calm her nerves.
An hour after luncheon, when she was able to force down a bit of the mutton stew Cook had made, she sat in her drawing room, trying desperately to read Miss Austen’s latest novel, wishing Elliot would finish up his work and return to her.
“Ma’am, Miss Garvey has called and asked if you were at home.” Thomas stood at the open doorway, his protective manner warming her.
Miss Garvey was not one of her favorite people, but she felt sorry for the woman in an odd sort of way. The poor thing must be lost since Mr. Talbot’s death. Charlotte had no idea what their relationship had been, but surely there had been some affection on either side for them to spend so much time together.
Even though she would prefer not to receive the woman, perhaps a bit of tea and conversation with her would distract her for a while until Elliot arrived. “Yes, send her in. And please ask Cook for tea.”
Miss Garvey entered, looking ghastlier than ever. Her hair was in disarray, and her clothing wrinkled. If Charlotte believedshelooked out of sorts, Miss Garvey looked far worse. She must be suffering, and Charlotte vowed to make this visit as pleasant as possible for the poor woman. “Won’t you have a seat, Miss Garvey? I’ve sent for tea.”
The woman sat, clutching her coat around her.
“Would you be more comfortable if you took your coat off?”
Miss Garvey shook her head, and just continued to stare at Charlotte. The uneasiness caused by the woman’s demeanor sent shivers up her spine. Trying to put aside her disquiet, she leaned forward. “How are you getting on?”
“Fine.”
Thankfully, Thomas entered the room with a tea tray and Charlotte waved at the table between her and Miss Garvey. “Just set it down there, Thomas. Thank you.”
Once Thomas left the room, Miss Garvey stood and walked to the door. Was she leaving? Her guest had never been easy to understand, but today she was definitely strange. Instead of leaving, she closed the door, flipped the lock, and then leaned against it. “I wish to discuss something personal with you, and I would prefer if your servants did not hear.”
Charlotte’s heart thumped rapidly, and she had the urge to barrel past Miss Garvey and leave the room. Then she berated herself. Her nerves had been rattled of late, and she was seeing danger everywhere. Perhaps the poor woman needed a female confidante. “Certainly, Miss Garvey. If you feel more comfortable with the door closed, that is fine.”
Miss Garvey nodded and walked back to the chair she’d vacated. Charlotte picked up the teapot, not surprised that her hands shook. She glanced at the long clock in the corner, hoping Elliot would arrive soon. His presence would calm her. “How do you like your tea?”
“Cream and sugar, if you please.” Then she stared directly at Charlotte. “But then you know that don’t you?”
Confused, Charlotte just smiled and fixed the woman’s tea. If she was supposed to remember how Miss Garvey took her tea, it had fled her mind. She passed her the cup and then fixed her own. She tried desperately to find a subject for conversation, and unfortunately, ended up with the weather. “It looks as though the colder weather is definitely on its way.”
Miss Garvey took a sip of her tea and regarded Charlotte over her cup.
“What is it you wished to speak with me about? You mentioned a personal matter? What can I help you with?”
Her guest put her cup down and leaned forward. “Stop this act, Anne. You do not fool me.”
Charlotte frowned. “I’m sorry, Miss Garvey, my name is not Anne, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her heart was pounding so loud, she was sure Bridget heard it upstairs.
“Don’t try to pretend you don’t know me. You know what we shared. You know you belong to me, and to me alone.”
Charlotte went on full alert. Something was definitely wrong with Miss Garvey, and the time for politeness had ended. She stood. “If you will excuse me, I just remembered an engagement for which I must prepare.”
