Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend

might prepare our stage while Charlotte and I entered the ballroom. In my apprehension and preparations I had almost forgotten the effect of a masked ball and I took a fair start at the sight before me.
    ‘Courage, Jane,’ Charlotte whispered to me, perhaps thinking I was uneasy about the dangers before me. But in truth I was taken aback by the spectacle. I had long become inured to the wonders of the ball, but a
bal masqué
was something truly different. The timid wine merchant from Bathwick becomes Robin the Hood, and his wife of many summers and children, incongruously, and fittingly, becomes his Maid Marian. The barrister, who with the thrust of his words and the flash of his briefs imagines himself Sir Barrister, now dons his suit of tin plate armour as Sir Gawain. And Charlotte House reveals her true nature as Jeanne d’Arc.
    ‘That is a very noisy costume, Charlotte,’ I said. ‘Will it be appropriate for our later subterfuges?’
    She shrugged. ‘A single clasp releases it.’
    ‘Do we not have a disagreement with France at present?’
    She shrugged again. ‘I like it.’
    I laughed and she turned to look at me and smile. ‘I’m glad I offer you some amusement. Look, there is Miss Winslowe.’
    I looked in the direction indicated and saw Miss Winslowe dressed as an Egyptian princess. We joined her.
    ‘Miss House?’ she asked, taken aback by my friend’s costume.
    ‘It is, Miss Winslowe, and I thought I made it clear that you should remain hidden until called.’
    ‘The gentleman is not yet here and it has been a long time since I’ve been out. And you provided me such a beautiful costume.’
    ‘It is quite becoming,’ I agreed. ‘The lace of the headdress is exquisite.’
    ‘And it has the distinction, thank God, of being unique—well almost unique, if we are to believe Mrs. La Fontaine,’ Charlotte said. Her tone softened. ‘I understand the strain you have been under, but we must time things to a nicety. Is this your cousin?’ Charlotte asked, indicating the young woman standing beside Miss Winslowe.
    ‘Oh, forgive my manners. Yes, this is Miss Hazelton. Betty, this is Miss House and Miss Woodsen.’
    We curtseyed and then Charlotte gave Miss Hazelton an approving look. ‘You have been Miss Winslowe’s spy, have you not?’
    ‘Yes, Miss House. I have kept her informed on the conduct of that man and his intentions toward the unfortunate woman he has targeted.’
    ‘Well, your job now is to shield Miss Winslowe. You have another cousin, Miss Winslowe?’
    ‘Yes, Robert, Mr Hazelton. He remains by the entrance and will notify us when … when he arrives.’
    ‘Very well, remain close to the tearoom. Hide there if you must.’
    We left Miss Winslowe and her cousin and continued our search for some of the other players in the night’s drama.
    ‘Now where are the Ashbys?’ Charlotte asked.
    It was now my turn to spot them. ‘I don’t see them … no wait, Mrs Ashby is seated in the far corner, dressed as Sukey. Miss Ashby is no doubt already with a partner.’ #
    We manoeuvred through the crowd and joined Mrs Ashby.
    ‘Mrs Asbhy, you are prepared?’ Charlotte asked.
    ‘Who! Oh, Miss House. Yes, I received your instructions. Are you sure you know the identity of …’
    ‘I am sure of it.’
    ‘But why do you need to reveal it in this
outré
fashion?’
    ‘It is enough that you know it is necessary, Mrs Ashby, nothing more. You must leave as arranged as soon as you see Mr Hickham.’
    ‘Yes, yes, anything to see my dear girl married to him.’
    ‘Of course, Mrs Ashby, we want to see Mr Hickham gets his reward as well.’
    That task done, we tried our best to remain unpartnered, an easier task for Charlotte. She looked so fierce as the Maid of Orléans that few men approached her. I hid in a corner until a man wearing a Domino costume approached. With his bow he quickly pulled aside his mask. #
    ‘Mr Wallace,’ I said, with a start.
    ‘You are disappointed, Miss Woodsen?’
    ‘No, I am delighted to see you. Only it is my feet, sir,’ I said, pointing to my Persian slippers. ‘The pain keeps me from dancing. It is the price I pay for my costume.’
    ‘An exotic from the East. It is quite … enchanting,’ he said, his eyes exploring me.
    ‘It is, perhaps, more daring than I would normally … dare,’ I said, and I blushed, both for my clumsy words and the truth of it. For our strategy to-night, I required a simple and bare costume. ‘And so you see me here