They rode on toward Bromley without exchanging much talk. He said a few words, but nothing substantial. He didn’t try to explain why he’d hesitated and, at this point, it would not have mattered. At least, with him, Charlotte knew where she stood.
The vendors in the town were all willing to trade food for the ring. The only question now was which vendor would give them the most? None of them asked any questions about where the ring came from or who it belonged to.
Michael haggled for the best offer, which was more than what she’d ever received for anything she’d brought them. It angered her that the vendors would offer him more, but she was thankful Rosie and her family would be getting more. In fact, Michael was able to acquire at least a sennight’s worth of food and still had coin left over to purchase a cart. Charlotte was ecstatic.
“You are very good at bartering,” she remarked after they tied their horses to their new cart and rode out of Bromley.
“When you’re a New York City detective,” he answered, glancing at her sitting beside him on the cart’s small bench, “you learn how to talk to people to get what you want.”
“Oh?” she put to him with a half-smile and a raised brow. “Do you use your wiles on me?”
“As much as you use yours on me.” He winked at her and then looked forward as they rode.
“Why, I hardly use my wiles on you at all, Michael.”
“So then, it’s your natural charm that’s been knocking me on my ass lately.”
She nodded, enjoying the way he spoke, and smiled. “As it has been yours knocking me on mine.”
“Your what?” he pressed playfully.
“Myass.” Almost instantly, she lifted her hand to cover her mouth.
He laughed and then so did she. When he put his arm around her, following a slight breeze, she melted against him. She was still stung that he would likely choose to go back if the option became able. It saddened her.
Thankfully, Rosie’s small village was just outside the town and, within minutes, the group of thatched-roof huts came into view.
“It’s like going back even farther in time, Michael remarked. “This place looks medieval.”
“They have nothing,” Charlotte told him and sat up straighter, eager to see her friend.
They rode the cart to one of the four small, thatched-roof cottages along the road out of the large town. Charlotte bounded from the cart and found her friend in the sunny backyard hanging her bed linens out to dry.
There were three rows of thin sheets billowing out around her, but Rosie, with her deep auburn hair and her ever windburned cheeks, saw her and pushed her way forward.
“Charlotte, I feared you had stopped coming and I would not see you again.”
“That will not happen, my dearest,” Charlotte promised, holding her close. “And look at how much we brought you this time.”
She moved away and let Rosie see around to the front of the house where the cart, piled with sacks of grain, rice, and vegetables, just to name a few things, sat waiting. There were smaller bundles of fruit, and dried meat, and all manner of small boxes.
“And that is not all!” Charlotte nearly burst with excitement telling her. She was so wrapped up in it that she forget to introduce Detective Pendridge to Rosie. “The cart is yours!”
“How?” Rosie nearly shouted, and then she did call out to her husband. “Who is it that you travel with?”
Charlotte laughed into her hand. “Oh, forgive me. This is Michael Pendridge, he is a paid investigator, hired by my father to make Croydon safer.”
“Greetings and welcome to our home,” Rosie said with a friendly grin that revealed three missing teeth. She gave a pat to the hair gathered at the top of her head and covered by a caul.
“What is this?” came a man’s voice. “Ah, Charlotte!” called Rosie’s merry husband, Warren, as he entered the backyard. He pointed to his wife. “She has been waiting for you.”
Charlotte knew it wasn’t just for food. Rosie loved her as a mother loved her daughter. “Well, I’m here, Warren,” she addressed him, a man she didn’t think could be any more perfect for her Rosie. “Did you see the cart packed with food in front?”
They all went to see and unpack. Rosie cried and invited her three neighbors over for supper this evening. Warren cried when Michael told him that he could keep the cart.
The men were together doing something outside, and Charlotte and Rosie were cutting carrots and kneading bread in the kitchen, which was also the sitting room.
“What about Preston?” Rosie asked.
