Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend

Ever-Rotating Wheel of Information
    I earlier recounted that I found our social obligations a burden, but I felt differently on this visit to the Lower Rooms, because this time I was directly employed on someone’s behalf. I began to understand why we visited these rooms again and again.
    We joined the society taking a turn in the large ballroom and whereas before the image of prisoners pacing in their cells came to mind—when in my dark mood—to-day I saw the crowd as an ever-rotating wheel of information, like some vast clockwork mechanism that will reveal its secrets if only the separate gears can be aligned. As usual, we three started as a group but over time we became two parties, alternately sharing Mrs Fitzhugh, so that we might converse with as many people as possible. #
    Of course, we had to be discreet in our enquiries: ‘Mrs Compton, so nice to see you again. We were just speaking of you last night to Mrs Ashby. Why yes, I had heard of the engagement’ Or: ‘It is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of so fine a gentleman as yourself, but stay; are you not a friend of Mr Hickham? I believe him to be recently engaged.’
    These enquiries were repeated again and again, but we heard little detrimental other than envy about Miss Ashby and her family. After we became three again, we even asked our master of ceremonies about the match.
    ‘Ladies, ma’am, a great pleasure as always,’ he said. ‘And it is good to see you well, Miss Woodsen.’
    ‘Thank you, Mr King,’ I said. ‘You are kind to notice.’ #
    He gave a little bow and then Charlotte said, ‘We do not see Mrs Ashby here to-day. We had hoped to offer our congratulations on the engagement of her daughter to Mr Hickham.’
    ‘Hickham, yes,’ he said with a harrumph, ‘high time that young man found himself a wife.’
    ‘There are many who think the match most advantageous for the Ashbys,’ I said.
    ‘I dare say it is. But Hickham … Mr Hickham I should say … has remained single far too long for an eldest son.
Noblesse oblige,
as the French would have said.’
    Mrs Fitzhugh returned, ‘And why is that, I wonder?’
    He looked at her puzzled. ‘Well, the revolution might have …’
    Charlotte stopped him. ‘No, I think my friend wondered why Mr Hickham is so late in marrying.’
    ‘Oh, sorry. Well, I don’t know. There have been … Miss House, I take you into my confidence. I …’ He stopped and then looked at me.
    ‘You may depend on Miss Woodsen’s discretion as you do mine, Mr King.’
    ‘Well that’s all right then,’ he said, looking at me before turning back to Charlotte. ‘We have cooperated before on matters of some discretion, Miss House. As I was saying, there had been earlier expectations that Mr Hickham would take a wife and that came to naught.’
    ‘I was unaware of this,’ Charlotte said. ‘Doubtless those families are now disappointed.’
    ‘Yes, the Spensers and the Winslowes especially. Don’t see much of them as a matter of fact. I should call on them. Speaking of which — if you will excuse me ladies, I have some duties to perform.’
    Mr King left us with something to think about.
    ‘I don’t think Mr King will have much luck with the Spensers,’ Mrs Fitzhugh said. ‘They stopped coming to Bath two seasons ago.’
    ‘I vaguely remember them,’ Charlotte said. ‘Pretty girl but a little too high spirited.’
    ‘And the Winslowes?’ I asked Mrs Fitzhugh.
    ‘They are here in Bath, but I do not recall seeing them lately. Mr Winslowe died, I believe, which may be the reason for their seclusion.’
    ‘Our next step then is clear,’ I said. ‘We must call on the Winslowes.’
    —&—
    Which did not prove easy, because although the Winslowes did, at least at one time spend the season in Bath, we could not find a present address. We enquired again in the Upper and Lower Rooms, at the Pump Room, at the theatre and at every occasion we attended, but no one seemed to know where the Winslowes lived. #
    In the meantime, Mrs Ashby again visited us.
    ‘Another letter!’ she cried, once seated in the drawing-room. ‘We are ruined!’
    ‘Calm yourself,’ soothed Mrs Fitzhugh.
    ‘Yes,’ I added, ‘we have found no proof that this rumour has spread.’
    ‘But it has. My best friend Mrs Clausen brought me this letter only this morning.’
    Charlotte looked briefly at the letter and handed it to me. Mrs Fitzhugh joined me in reading it.
    Tell Mrs Ashby that her cat wants to be let out of