Page 94 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
Yes, why don’t I punish myself? I’ve already admitted I still love him. Curse his hide.
Truth be known, she was finding it very hard to keep her hands off him. All she’d wanted to do since he walked into her jail cell was to have him hold her, to feel the warmth and security in his arms. She wanted him to tell her everything would be all right. That he had taken care of her and had every intention of doing so for the rest of their lives.
Her anger had begun to dissolve at how horrible he looked. This was not a man who had turned his back on her and then gaily resumed his life. Although his first reaction had been to dismiss her as a liar and a thief, the look in his eyes now told her he was very sorry for what he had done.
But that didn’t mean she could forgive him.
A light tap on the door drew her attention. Elliot opened the door to a well-rounded middle-aged woman. She offered them a gap-tooth smile, none of the suspicion in her husband’s demeanor evident. “Good evening, I am Mrs. Weston, the innkeeper’s wife. I understand Mrs. Baker would like a bath?”
“Yes, please,” Charlotte answered.
“We have a bathing room, my dear. It’s at the end of the hall. I will set up the bath for you, if you will accompany me so I can show it to you.” The woman turned and Charlotte followed her down the corridor to the end room, which apparently had been a bedchamber at one time, but was now set up to bathe.
The lovely space had two green and white striped upholstered chairs, along with a linen closet, mirrors on the wall, a wash basin, a water closet, and a delightful bathtub. “This is lovely!”
The woman blushed at Charlotte’s praise. “Thank you. We are quite proud of it, if I may say so, myself. I will set up your bath and fetch you from your room when it is ready.” Charlotte turned to leave, and then stopped when the woman spoke. “When will you and your husband like your dinner?”
Your husband.
The words jolted her. Had Lord Barton not caught up with her, that is exactly what Elliot would be right now. Instead, she wasn’t exactly sure what he was. She was still too angry at his betrayal to think beyond a bath and dinner. He kept insisting there was an “us” in their future, but she couldn’t dwell on that now.
“I think I would prefer a bath before we eat,” she answered. Then, glancing down at her ruined gown, she cringed. “My pardon, Mrs. Weston, but I am in desperate need of a change of clothing.” She flushed, wondering what the woman thought of her condition.
“There is a shop on the next block. If you tell me what you need, I can send one of my daughters.” There was no condemnation or suspicion in her statement.
“Wonderful. You may get some coins from my husband.” She smiled at the woman. A bath, clean clothes, and a warm meal.
Heaven.
* * *
Elliot staredout the window at the busy street below. A charming little town, it was too bad Melbourne Station was completely controlled by Lord Barton.
When the local magistrate had refused to release Charlotte based on Molly’s testimony, Elliot had sent a telegram to a client of his, a well-respected, honest judge in London, who had quickly dispatched a return telegram to the magistrate. Within a half hour he had the discharge papers in hand.
His only regret was not coming face-to-face with Lord Barton and pummeling him to the ground. Even now, his hands clenched with the urge to seek him out and give him the thrashing he deserved.
To think he’d turned his back on the woman he loved because of his stubbornness. ‘Twas almost as if he wanted to prove himself right in distrusting her. And all women. He still cringed at how she’d looked as she had slapped the diamond ring in his hand when the inspectors had led her away.
Heartbroken.
He’d been a first-class idiot, and if given the chance, he would do whatever it took to make her see how much he loved her, and how sorry he was for abandoning her when she had needed him the most.
He had thought his heart crushed when he learned of the warrant for Charlotte’s arrest, but nothing compared to how he felt when he saw her in that dirty, disgusting jail. Her beautiful wedding gown was a mess, her hair hung down in clumps, and her eyes looked upon him with heartbreaking sadness. But worse had been the look of defeat on her face. His strong Charlotte had given up.
No matter how hard he tried, he could not convince himself that it wasn’t his fault she’d suffered through the humiliation of arrest and being treated like a criminal by the lowly moron at the jail.
As much as he wanted to slam his fist into the jailer’s face, deep in his heart, he knew he was the one who deserved the thrashing. The guilt was crippling.
He spent the time waiting for Charlotte to return from her bath going over what he would say to her. As soon as she came back, he would notify the innkeeper to send up their meal. He gladly gave Mrs. Weston the money to buy a new outfit for Charlotte. If things went the way he hoped, he would be responsible for her clothing, food, and shelter for the rest of her life.
There was a slight tap at the door. “Mr. Baker?”
He opened the door to find Mrs. Weston holding a bundle of clothing over her arm. “Here are your wife’s things.” She hesitated for a moment, and then said, “I’m thinking you might want to check on her in the bathing room. I knocked to tell her I had her clothes, but she didn’t answer, and I am sure I heard her crying.”
The blood drained from his face. With all she’d gone through the last month or so, it was no wonder she was crying. “Thank you, Mrs. Weston. I will check on her.”
She nodded and went on her way. How would Charlotte feel about him barging in on her bath? Would she throw the nearest heavy object at his head? Well deserved, of course. But could he leave her so distraught after all she’d been through? It felt as though whatever he decided it would not be the right thing.
