Page 90 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
“I would like to secure a room, I am not too sure for how long, but at least a day or two. I would also like dinner, as soon as possible.”
The man bowed. “Of course. Please follow me and I will show you to a room where you can freshen up before we serve dinner.”
The two of them climbed the stairs to the second level where he opened the third door down. “Is this acceptable?”
The room was small, but certainly met his needs. And it was large enough for him and Charlotte once he freed her and begged on bended knee for her forgiveness.
A wooden dresser with a shaving mirror hanging over it sat against one wall with a pitcher and bowl set on top of the dresser. A decent sized bed occupied the center of the room, with a small desk and chair stuck into a corner. The window over the desk allowed light to what would otherwise be a dark room.
“This is fine. I will be down in about ten minutes for dinner.” Just as the man backed out to leave, Elliot stopped him. “Excuse me. I am looking for someone named Lord Barton? Do you know him, or where I can find him?”
The innkeeper eyed him cautiously. “What business do you have with his lordship?”
Interesting. A combination of fear and reluctance graced the innkeeper’s face. No doubt more than one person had been under the lord’s thumb. “I have legal business in town, and someone mentioned Lord Barton might be the man for me to see.”
“Any business you want to conduct in this town better be brought to Lord Barton’s attention first.”
“He’s quite influential, then?”
The man shrugged. “That’s all I’m saying.” He turned and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
He would not mention the reason for his appearance in town. If the man had that much influence, it was better he did not know about Elliot’s objective to clear Charlotte of these false charges.
Elliot dug through his satchel and removed the notes he’d made when he met with Inspector Longforth. The inspector had been good enough to contact the Melbourne Station police to uncover more information.
Miss Molly Adams. She was the maid who had testified to the magistrate that she’d found the necklace in Charlotte’s room. Tomorrow he would pay Miss Adams a visit.
After a good night’ssleep and a hearty breakfast, Elliot set out to find Miss Adams. Hopefully, she was not still employed by the Barton household, which would make it difficult to speak with her. Fortunately, in a small town such as this, most people knew everyone. Working on that assumption, he made his first visit to a local greengrocer.
“Good morning to you, sir.” A young woman of no more than twenty years greeted him as he entered the shop. “What can I assist you with? We have some lovely turnips today, just in from the farm.”
“Thank you, miss. I will look forward to examining your wares in a bit, but first I seek information.”
Her friendly mien vanished and the same sense of caution as the innkeeper’s crossed the young woman’s face. “Yes?”
“I am looking for a Miss Molly Adams. She was employed by Lady Barton the last time I spoke with her. Before I trouble those up at the Manor, I thought to learn if she still worked there.”
The girl began to re-arrange onions. “I don’t know anything about the employees at Lady Barton’s home. Now, if you will excuse me, I have vegetables to unload. Good day, sir.” She abruptly walked away, going through a doorway behind the counter and disappearing.
Shaking his head, he left the shop. His inquiries in four other establishments brought similar results. As he left a snug little bookstore, he was halted by an older man, making his way out of the shop with the use of a cane. “Young man. Did I hear you asking after Molly?”
“Yes, you did. Do you know if she is still working at the Barton Manor?”
“Come sit over here with me.” The man pointed to a stone bench in front of a small park not too distant.
They sat side-by-side, only silence between them for a time. Just as Elliot was about to ask the man what information he had, he turned to him. “What is your name, son?”
Elliot held out his hand to the old man. “Mr. Elliot Baker, from London.”
The man shook his hand and said, “Molly is my granddaughter. She no longer works for Barton because she was dismissed.”
Ah, at last he’d found someone who might be willing to help him. “Is she no longer in Melbourne Station, then?”
“Oh, yes. She lives with my wife and myself.” He thumped his cane on the ground. “Most will tell you our Molly is a fallen woman. That she might be, but Lord Barton played a big part in her downfall.”
The man looked out at the distance, pain and sorrow on his wrinkled face. “You see, our Molly worked as a maid for Lady Barton. She foolishly became involved with Lord Barton, thinking his promises of marriage and a life of luxury were true.” He stopped and regarded him. “The blackguard got her with child, and instead of taking care of her, turned her out with no references. She’s been taking in sewing from the local seamstress to feed and clothe the child.”
Precisely, he was sure, what would have happened to Charlotte had she become involved with him. “Do you think your granddaughter would be willing to speak with me? I am a solicitor representing another woman he has done wrong, and Miss Adams might be the one person who can help.”
