Once Upon a Time in Bath (The Brides of Bath #7) - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,22
the four of them started toward the Pump Room. “Well spoken, Miss Pankhurst—not that I disagree with your dear father. My father was so blinded by his affection for his daughters, he was in want of sense. In his eyes, we were each perfection. And, I must say, at times he embarrassed us excessively.”
“Especially when he insisted Abby could sing like a nightingale,” Appleton said, chuckling.
Laughing, Annie nodded. “When her voice is, unfortunately, excruciatingly offensive.”
He needed a chuckle. The news of Ellie’s murder preyed on him. He could not purge from his mind the horrifying thought of her frail, lifeless body floating in the river. Why would anyone do such a thing?
When they arrived at the Pump Room, Glee Blankenship was already there, but this time she was accompanied by the younger Mrs. Blankenship, who had married Blanks’ half-brother Jonathan. Appleton’s group joined the two ladies.
“I declare, Blanks almost didn’t allow me to come,” Glee said.
Appleton lifted a brow. It wasn’t like Blanks to be so authoritarian with his wife. A more indulgent husband Appleton had never seen. “That doesn’t sound like Blanks.”
Glee sighed. “It’s just that he worries so about me. And about our children. You know what a tender heart he possesses.”
Appleton nodded. “What has him so worried?”
As soon as he spoke, he knew.
Glee’s eyes rounded. “Have you not heard? There’s a madman running about Bath murdering young women!”
His stomach fell. The expression on his face turned grim. “Indeed. I had heard.”
Elvin nodded. “In fact, we knew the unfortunate victim.”
Annie whirled to Elvin, her eyes wide with fear. “How dreadful! Who was she?”
“A young woman employed at Mrs. Starr’s Gaming Establishment.”
Miss Pankhurst’s brows lowered as she faced Glee. “Are you saying there’s a homicidal maniac in Bath?”
“Indeed, Miss Pankhurst,” Glee confirmed. “It’s really the most horrid thing. The young woman was found murdered in the River Avon this very morning.”
Miss Pankhurst looked at Elvin. “This is the woman from Mrs. Starr’s?”
He nodded solemnly.
“The poor woman,” Miss Pankhurst murmured.
Annie echoed the remark, then questioned Glee. “How did you learn of this wretched crime?”
“It was in the Bath Chronicle this afternoon. The edition came out earlier than usual, I suppose because of the sensational news.”
“I do hope my father doesn’t see the Chronicle. I shouldn’t want to return to Blandings,” Miss Pankhurst said.
Appleton hoped so, too. It wouldn’t do at all for the man to whisk his daughter back to Lincolnshire—though he wouldn’t blame him if he wished to. Appleton himself didn’t at all like to think of Annie being in danger from the maniac. He thanked God his other two sisters were far away and vowed to more strictly guard Annie until the deranged madman was apprehended.
“I think Blanks is right to be worried,” he said, eyeing first his sister and then Miss Pankhurst. “In fact, from this point forward, you ladies should not be permitted to be out after dark without the protection of a man.” He stood a bit straighter. “I offer myself for that role to both of you.”
“And if you’re not available,” Elvin said, “I shall offer myself.” Then he proffered his arm to Annie. “May I escort you about the chamber, Miss Appleton?”
Appleton stepped up to Miss Pankhurst. “May I have the honor, Miss Pankhurst?”
She placed her hand on his arm. He’d not noticed before that her hands were dainty. As they walked, he kept thinking about poor Ellie, which put him in a foul mood. He was not fit company for anyone, much less a lady he meant to woo.
What if Mr. Pankhurst, upon hearing there was a madman killing young women in Bath, promptly removed his precious daughter from this city?
She was Appleton’s only hope of redeeming the family fortunes—and saving Annie from a reprobate like Henry Wolf.
Even though he’d only known the lady a few days, perhaps Appleton needed to declare himself to Miss Pankhurst now. The very thought of shackling himself frightened him. That and regret that he would not be marrying for love. Nevertheless, he must act. For his family.
Now, to get up the courage. . .
She softly stroked his hand. “I’m very sorry, my lord, that you’ve lost your friend. I can tell that you’re greatly saddened over the death of the young lady from Mrs. Starr’s.” Her voice was gentle and kind.
How many other young women from the upper middle classes would be so sympathetic over the loss of what many would consider an insignificant lower-class girl employed at a gaming establishment?