Page 95 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
No matter, he would do it, anyway. He could not leave her crying in the bath tub. ‘Twas time for groveling.
After placing the pile of clean clothes on the bed, he closed the door to the room and headed to the bathing room. He knocked gently. “Charlotte? Are you well?”
No response. He leaned his ear against the door. “Charlotte?”
No words, but the muffled sound of sobs had him undoing the latch and entering the room. She sat in the tub with her knees bent, arms wrapped around her legs, her forehead on her knees, sobbing. He moved closer, then hunched down alongside her. Reaching out, he dipped his fingers into the water, then placed his hand on her wet hair, smoothing down the damp curls. “Honey, you’re going to freeze. The water has grown quite cold.”
No answer. She merely continued to cry as if her heart were broken, the sobs wracking her body. He looked around the room and spotted two drying cloths on a chair near the window. He rose, picked one up and shook it out. “Sweetheart, you have to stand so I can dry you. You’re shivering.”
Her head moved back and forth, rubbing her forehead against her knees.
“Yes. You must stand.” He dropped the drying cloth, and reaching under her arms, he drew her up. Once he had her standing, he placed the cloth around her shoulders, and took her hand. “Step out.”
Like a young child, she did as he said. Since all her clothing was in the room several doors down, he dried her as best he could, then wrapped her in the cloth. Despite whatever scandal it would cause, he scooped her into his arms and carried her from the bathing room, down the corridor, to their room. Juggling her in his arms, he opened the door, strode inside, and placed her gently on the chair.
He riffled through the pile of clothes until he pulled out a white lawn nightgown. “Stand up, love.”
Charlotte stood, the drying cloth dropping to her feet. She was not herself, since she didn’t try to cover up. Being the gentleman he wished he weren’t, he slipped the gown over her head, hiding all that glorious skin. He took her by the hand, happy to see she had stopped crying, but she was still unresponsive.
“I’m afraid I have no experience with dressing women’s hair. If I give you a hairbrush, will you fix it whichever way you normally do for bed?”
She nodded and took the brush he handed her. With a few swift strokes, she tamed the curls, and quickly braided the length into one long rope.
“Is there a ribbon?” The first words she’d spoken since he’d taken her from the bathtub, her voice was thick from crying. He fumbled through the clothing again and came up with a blue ribbon that he handed her.
Once she was finished, he pulled down the cover on the bed and she climbed in, rolling to her side, facing away from him. It was no wonder she was experiencing such an emotional collapse. His guilt weighed heavily on his mind and heart.
Before he said a word to her, there was a knock on the door. A young man, most likely son to the innkeeper, stood with a tray of food. “Your dinner, sir.”
“Thank you.” He waved to a table near the bed. “Just put it there.”
The young man nodded, placed the tray on the table, and left the room. The scent of the food had his stomach rumbling, and even though he was anxious to have his say, he thought it best if they ate before they talked.
“Sweeting, I think you should eat something.”
When she didn’t respond for a full minute, he thought perhaps she had fallen asleep. He moved to touch her shoulder just as she rolled to her back. “Yes, I am hungry.”
Relief swamped him at her response. He had visions of taking her to a hospital where they routinely locked up women suffering from hysteria.
Charlotte swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and eyed the roasted duck, creamed potatoes, bread, cheese, and bowl of vegetables with relish. Now, she seemed more herself. He would prefer her railing at him, cursing and storming about, rather than this subdued woman.
They ate the meal in silence, and his mind eased as Charlotte ate with gusto, and even smiled up at him at one point. However, he was not fool enough to think that she had forgiven him.
In fact, he had full intentions of doing an immense amount of groveling once their bellies were full.
