Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend

from Bristol. He had the most difficult time of it, for his own barouche was unavailable and he travelled by coach, only to have it be damaged in some way and unable to continue the journey.’
    ‘Perhaps that put him in a foul mood and contributed to his taking offence at Mr Jenkins,’ I suggested.
    ‘No, he spoke of it laughingly. I admit I was surprised at his attitude and thought it indicated he had taken a more generous view. He even seemed … I admit I was surprised by the calm with which he took my refusal.’
    And a little hurt,
I thought ungraciously. She thought she had the power of refusal, but then he refused to be unduly upset. I could see that she was revisiting her last encounter with Mr Sunderland and found myself interested in that as well.
    ‘What did he say, exactly, in response to your refusal?’ I asked.
    ‘He merely smiled and said as that was my decision, he would abide by it, and that … he said he hoped I should never regret it. Oh what have I done!’ She clasped her hand to her mouth to cover her emotion and said behind it, ‘He will throw his life away!’
    ‘Calm yourself!’ I cried, but I also feared this interpretation. I looked to Charlotte for support but I saw her gazing fixedly beyond us and I knew that she was lost in her calculations, undoubtedly also convinced that Mr Sunderland planned to offer himself up in the duel.
    ‘Charlotte,’ I said softly. My voice instantly brought her back to the matter at hand and she said, ‘Miss Chivington, take heart. It may not be as bleak as you suppose.’
    ‘But I had hoped I might sway him. Now I have gone too far, for I do love him. I know that I complained of his honour and pride, but I failed to mention his compassion and integrity.’
    —&—
    We did our best to console her but I fear we left her in a miserable state, and I confessed my fears to Charlotte as we walked back through the cold streets, our breath clouding as we spoke.
    ‘Your words to Miss Chivington were kind, but I think Mr Sunderland’s parting words indicate he may not defend himself in this duel.’
    ‘That may certainly be a valid interpretation, but you may also recall Mr Wallace’s testimony that Mr Sunderland did not appear unduly disturbed … affable was his term I recall.’
    ‘Perhaps he has assumed a certain … fatalism.’
    ‘Perhaps … or his parting words were simply a last attempt to elicit sympathy and instil guilt.’
    I thought of this possibility as we walked. Perhaps my romanticism
had
got the better of me. Unfortunately my pondering made me oblivious of the cold until my pattens slipped on the now frozen, muddy street, and I would have fallen had not Charlotte caught me. #
    ‘It is getting cold,’ I said unnecessarily.
    ‘Yes, I should be happy to be home with our fire and tea, but wait, here is Margaret.’
    We had neared the Upper Rooms and found our friend waving at us from across the street and we waited for her to join us.
    ‘It is getting cold,’ she told us as she approached us. Her nose and cheeks were bright from her exertion and the weather.
    ‘So Jane informs me. How did your errands go?’ Charlotte asked while urging us to continue homeward. Charlotte offered her arm to our friend and then to me and then we three began walking.
    ‘Very successfully. It is as you suspected, Mr Sunderland’s fortunes are diminished, although I have learned that they may improve, and I have further rumours of the untimeliness of his birth.’
    ‘Ah, so those were your errands,’ I needlessly added.
    ‘Yes Jane, I sent Margaret to … elicit information from a few selected shopkeepers. It is amazing what a woman
d’un certain âge
and charm can accomplish.’ #
    Mrs Fitzhugh smiled coquettishly and nodded her head. ‘Your turn will come someday, Charlotte, mark my words.’
    ‘I look forward to it. Now what did you learn?’
    ‘Ah, his accounts at his tailor have long gone unpaid but as yet there have been no complaints for it is suspected that he might soon inherit Langton Hall, his family estate.’
    ‘How is that? I thought he was the younger son.’
    Mrs Fitzhugh answered, ‘He is, but his brother has contracted the same wasting disease that afflicted their father and there is speculation he will soon die. Apparently our Mr Sunderland, George is his given name, little resembles his father or brother. That, and the timing of his birth, gave rise to the speculation that he may not be legitimate.’
    ‘That