Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend

and No. 18, the house at the corner. We three …
    ‘Wait, there are four of us,’ I said.
    ‘Mary, what are you doing here?’ Charlotte asked.
    ‘I’m sorry, miss. I just followed you whilst putting a cloak on Miss Woodsen.’
    ‘And left the house without a covering of your own, silly girl. Go back at once.’
    ‘Quiet,’ I hissed, ‘the door just opened.’ I motioned us back down Bennett Street out of sight of the young woman who had just exited the house.
    ‘What if she comes down this street?’ I asked Charlotte.
    ‘She won’t, but quick, into this doorway.’
    We watched the young woman cross Bennett Street and continue south along the Circus. As soon as she was out of sight, Charlotte said, ‘Mary, I want you to return home immediately and instruct Mrs Hutton to have something warm for us on our return. And we may have a guest.’
    ‘How do you know where she will go?’ Mrs Fitzhugh asked, as we quickly followed behind the woman who had left the house.
    ‘Because the Ashbys stay in Gay Street. Yes, she has turned.’
    We followed the young woman at a distance for at this quiet time of night our footsteps echoed loudly, but we need not have worried, for the singleness of her purpose did not dispose her to look back.
    ‘Yes, this is the Ashby’s address, No. 40. Down!’ she commanded. ‘We can surprise her on her return.’ We hid in the stairwell of a basement entrance. Only Charlotte had a clear view. #
    ‘What is she doing, Charlotte?’ Mrs Fitzhugh asked.
    ‘She is putting a letter under the door,’ she said. ‘She’s coming back.’
    The young lady approached us and despite our concealment it seemed impossible that she could not see us. I could not help but think we were a comical group. But the next few seconds shewed that the night was ill suited to comedy.
    Charlotte suddenly stood upright and said, ‘Miss Catherine Winslowe? My name is Charlotte House and you will come with us to explain yourself.’
    A sharp cry and a low moan prepared me and I rushed to catch the young woman as she fainted. Fortunately she was very slender and with Mrs Fitzhugh’s help we kept her upright. Apparently I improved with practice.
    ‘This should do the trick,’ Charlotte said, as she produced a vinaigrette and waved its pungent aroma under Miss Winslowe’s nose. Its effect was immediate and the young woman regained her balance. #
    ‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘Why do you frighten me so?’
    ‘Miss Winslowe, you have much to explain. We know you to be the author of poisonous letters directed at Miss Ashby.’
    ‘Why do you wish them ill?’ I asked.
    ‘Ill? I do not. I only hope that another will not suffer as I have.’ She gave another low moan and I readied myself to support her again. Charlotte opened the vinaigrette.
    ‘No, there is no need,’ she said, stopping Charlotte’s hand.
    ‘We will take you to your home,’ Charlotte said.
    ‘No, please do not. It would distress my mother.’
    ‘Then we shall take you to our home and there you can answer our questions.’
    —&—
    It was a long trip back to our home. Even with our assistance, Miss Winslowe walked slowly and I ached with a desire to ask her further questions, but I knew that she needed rest and something warm in her before she could talk. And despite the knowledge that she threatened the happiness of another, I could not help but feel sympathy for the burden she seemed to carry.
    Mary, Alice and Mrs Hutton all awaited us when we returned home.
    ‘Mary, get some blankets for our guest; and Mrs Hutton, some brandy all round,’ Charlotte ordered. We brought Miss Winslowe into the drawing-room and soon had her wrapped in blankets while Alice stoked the fire already laid for us. Mrs Hutton returned with the brandy.
    ‘This should warm you,’ Mrs Fitzhugh told Miss Winslowe. After a swallow, the warmth came back to her cheeks and she nodded her thanks. Finally Charlotte thanked our helpers and closed the drawing-room doors after they left. We three sat, Charlotte directly across from our guest, and we drank our brandy, and I realized how cold I was despite our exertion helping Miss Winslowe.
    ‘Now, Miss Winslowe, perhaps you will tell us what you meant, that you did not mean Miss Ashby ill.’
    ‘It is for her sake that I wrote those letters, to keep her from danger.’
    ‘Ah, I began to suspect as much,’ Charlotte said. She leant back in her chair and steepled her fingers before her. ‘And that danger