Page 10 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
Mrs. Blanchard drew here brows together in thought. “Mrs. Pennyworth’s been here since last October when she married the master. For Mr. Pennyworth, I have been in service for nigh on ten years.”
Ten years the man had had his own household. He must probe more fully into Mr. Pennyworth’s affairs. There was always the possibility some connection to him was precipitating the packages. Although, why they would start now was the question. A question he needed to ask. “I understand Mr. Pennyworth passed about a year ago?”
Mrs. Blanchard nodded, andtsked. “The poor man died only a month after his wedding to Mrs. Pennyworth. So sad for the young girl. She was quite happy when he first brought her here. I had expected years of continued joy, with little ones arriving on a regular basis.” She touched the edge of her apron to her eye.
Apparently, Mr. Pennyworth had been an employer well-liked by his staff. “Has Mrs. Pennyworth hired any new servants, say, in the last couple of months?”
Mrs. Blanchard glanced up at the ceiling, which he found many people did when they were thinking. “A new kitchen girl.”
“What is the hiring process?” Since he’d never had a full-time servant in his life, he had no idea. The oldest son of a policeman, his path in life had been laid out almost from birth. His family of three brothers and two sisters had never starved, but they had watched their coins carefully. Clothes had been mended and handed down, meat had appeared at the dinner table only once a week, on Sunday, and they had all tended the garden at the back of their small London house.
But every one of them had had a decent education, thanks to the local vicar who ran a school for the nearby children, and his parents who had sacrificed their help while they were in school.
“If we require a new servant, Mrs. Pennyworth contacts the hiring agency and they send over a few. I generally interview them first, and if they pass my examination, Mrs. Pennyworth speaks with them. She, of course, makes the final decision.”
“No new men?”
She shook her head. Of course, it would not be that easy, but he would be remiss in his duty to not check the most obvious first.
“Has Mrs. Pennyworth made you aware of the odd leavings on the doorstep the last few weeks?”
“Not at first. Mrs. Pennyworth keeps to herself. I knew something was amiss, however, but as it was not my place to question her, I waited until she confided in me.”
“When was that?”
“Only last week. I found her holding what appeared to be a dead bird. She was pale as new snow and my stomach churned at the fear in her eyes. I helped her to a chair, disposed of the bird, and bought her a tisane. She then poured out the story of the strange happenings, and I suggested she visit Scotland Yard.”
Itching to learn more about his client, he realized questioning her housekeeper would not be quite the thing. When he was with Scotland Yard, he could ask away, but Mrs. Pennyworth had hired him to find her tormentor, not pry into her personal life history.
Sometimes, it was hard to differentiate between honest suspicion and the general skepticism he’d developed after his experience with criminals in general, and Annabelle, in particular. He tried to tell himself with each new woman he met that not every one of the female gender were devious schemers.
“Yes, well The Yard is busy right now attempting to catch the man attacking prostitutes in Whitechapel.”
Mrs. Blanchard sniffed. “One would think that tax-paid policemen would be better served in looking for those who torture the ones who pay those taxes, instead of worrying about the women off the street.”
Elliot was familiar with many individuals, even some on the police force, who held the same opinion. To him, a life was a life, despite how one wished to conduct it. While prostitutes plying their trade in Whitechapel might turn many God-fearing souls to condemnation, most, if not all those women, were in that situation through no fault of their own.
He slapped his thighs and stood. “Thank you very much for your time, Mrs. Blanchard. Please inform Mrs. Pennyworth of my visit and ask her to send around a note if she needs to speak with me before I escort her to an assembly dance Thursday, next.”
Mrs. Blanchard nodded. “Yes, Mr. Baker, I will pass that message on to her.” She walked him to the front door. “Have a pleasant day.”
* * *
Charlotte placedher hand on the fevered brow of the young girl tossing in the small cot. “You have quite a fever, Annie.”
“I feel so hot, miss. Do you suppose I’m getting close to the gates of hell?”
Charlotte sucked in a breath. “No, for heaven’s sake—wherever did you get such an idea?”
“Mrs. Trevor said so, Miss. She said those of us left here with no papa to claim us are headed to hell.” She nodded her little head, her small forehead wrinkled with concern.
Charlotte gritted her teeth so hard her jaw hurt. It was bad enough these poor children had no family, and for the most part, spent their childhood in this orphans’ home without proper nutrition and clothing, but it rankled that those in charge of the little mites condemned them for things over which they had no control. “No, Annie. I do not think you are near the gates of hell, and no, you are not headed there. If you are a good girl, and do what the Lord expects of you, there will be no gates of hell for you. Now, I am going to get a cloth and a pan of cool water to wipe you down. You will feel much better soon.”
She would also have a word with Mrs. Trevor on how to speak to the children.
Charlotte volunteered two mornings a week at the St. Jerome Children’s Orphan Home in St. Giles. It had helped her with her own grief after Gabriel had died. If she were not to have a child of her own, then her motherly instincts could be put to good use by caring for those who had no parents.
Most of the children at St. Jerome’s were illegitimate, their mothers prostitutes and drunkards. Some had been dropped off on the front steps, wrapped in bloody ragged blankets with umbilical cords still attached, others were rescued from dire circumstances by kind-hearted souls who brought them to St. Jerome’s.
