Free Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend by Jennifer Petkus Page B

unnerved me. She pulled a bell rope to summon a servant and Mary soon arrived.
    ‘Mary, please set our signal to summon my little helpers,’ she said and then turned to me. ‘Now it is time to put wheels in motion.’
    —&—
    It tires me still to think of the preparations we undertook that day. Normally Charlotte abhors a themed ball—‘It is impossible to tell the truth from the half-truth from the outright lie when one has the cloak of incognito’—and so we had not planned to attend, and we further had to involve Miss Winslowe in our preparations. Luckily, that lady had the courage in her I had suspected.
    I must admit my own resolve rose and fell throughout the day. I had readily agreed to Charlotte’s plan—I could not put our client in danger—and I should be happy to say that my only doubts were that I might not acquit myself properly, but it would be nearer the mark to say that I was simply scared. I never thought I would explore the depth of my own courage in this way.
    Charlotte never noticed or perhaps she chose to ignore my misgivings, but Mrs Fitzhugh did her best to comfort me while we waited for Miss Winslowe to meet us at the dressmakers.
    ‘Charlotte would do it herself if she could.’
    ‘And stick out like a mustard pot in a coal scuttle. She is much too tall. I know it is my lot.’ #
    ‘There would be no shame …’
    I laughed. ‘That is a lie. I cannot desert my friend or fail that wronged woman.’
    ‘When first you met Charlotte, she told me, “There is a strength in Miss Woodsen.”’
    I smiled. ‘Is that in any way supposed to make me feel better?’
    ‘And yet you smiled.’
    Mrs Fitzhugh’s mention of my tragedy suddenly made me curious. I said, ‘She told me that she and I were united in suffering a great sadness.’
    Mrs Fitzhugh gave a little laugh. ‘How like her not to include me in that select club.’
    ‘I am sorry. I said too much.’
    She shook her head. ‘My husband’s death was as great a tragedy to me as Charlotte’s own. But his was a pedestrian death, not a romantic one. No matter.’ Although intrigued by her statement, I could see the sadness in my friend’s eyes and decided it would be best not to ask further questions. And shortly thereafter Charlotte and Miss Winslowe arrived and we were busy with our fittings.
    Later that day, we three set off to see Mr King and acquaint him with his part to play. To say he was reluctant would be to understate the matter—‘It would be my ruin!’—but he agreed that if our accusations were unfounded, no harm would ensue. He was also helpful in finding a little-used room that would be instrumental to our purpose and ensuring that an adequate place of concealment would be installed.
    —&—
    The next day came too soon and the dressmaker had encountered some difficulties, but Charlotte’s motley band reported success.
    ‘They have delivered all but two of the letters, and hope to find some way to secrete those to-day,’ Charlotte said.
    ‘And the effect?’
    ‘A hit, a palpable hit. He has found a number of letters in a number of improbable places already. I hope he walks about in a rage.’ #
    ‘Yes,’ I said, with a falter in my voice. ‘Let us hope that anger gets the better of him.’
    ‘He should be uncontrollable for my plan to succeed. If my judgement of his personality proves correct, he will strike without regard to reason. And then we will have him.’
    I confess I almost lost my nerve.
    ‘Oh, I almost forgot. I asked Mr King to provide a stout footman to prevent any danger … and I have received word that he has just the man.’ Charlotte said this last as an afterthought, but I could see from her reluctance to meet my gaze that she was uncomfortable. #
    I answered, also not looking at her directly, ‘That was kind of him. So everything is thought of.’

We Confront Mr Hickham
    We sent our instructions to Miss Winslowe through the medium of the street urchins and advised her to be at the