Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend

trying not to attract attention.’
    ‘And in that effort you have failed miserably,’ he said. I smiled at his pleasantry, somewhat nervously given the intensity of his scrutiny.
    ‘Perhaps rather than dance I might join you here being inconspicuous.’
    ‘Then you would be failing in your duty as a gentleman.’
    He sighed. ‘What am I to do? Fail in my duty as a gentleman or as a friend.’ He sat down beside me.
    We chatted of inconsequentials and through his charm I relaxed and almost forgot my duties that night. I was reminded of them, however when Charlotte returned.
    ‘Pardon me, Mr Wallace, but might I steal Miss Woodsen from you?’
    Mr Wallace was startled by the sight of Charlotte towering above him, dressed for battle. ‘Miss House?’
    ‘It is very rude of me, but there is an old friend here I had promised I would introduce to Miss Woodsen and she is leaving soon.’
    ‘Of course, Miss House. I fear I am at fault for monopolizing her time.’
    ‘I did not mind,’ I said.
    ‘Yes, but now you really must join me,’ Charlotte said, her arm on mine.
    ‘You will forgive me, Mr Wallace,’ I said, giving him a backward glance as Charlotte pulled me away.
    ‘Time to concentrate, Jane. I have already despatched Mrs Ashby. Mr Hickham has finally arrived.’
    How Charlotte knew for certain it was Mr Hickham I was unsure, although perhaps she had foreknowledge of his costume. He was dressed as Harlequin, and although there were two others dressed similarly that night, they were no match for the presumptive baron. His size, the fit of his tights, the evil mirth of his mask and the size of his slapstick made him the object of every lady’s eye. He had timed his entrance with the end of the dance and had attracted a crowd, but it was obvious his attention was elsewhere. And his arrogant detachment and swagger seemed to elevate interest in him rather than degrade it. We walked as close to him as we dared. #
    Finally Miss Ashby, dressed as Judy, caught his attention and he walked toward her, his eyes still seeking another in the crowd. #
    We saw him nod stiffly to her and speak to her, presumably asking her to dance. A man, who was standing next to Miss Ashby and who had presumably already asked the pleasure of her company, stepped forward and addressed him but then stept away under Mr Hickham’s glare. He then proffered his arm and took Miss Ashby to the floor.
    ‘I think we can assume that Mr Hickham is in a foul mood,’ Charlotte said.
    ‘I think he wants to rip someone’s head clean off,’ I agreed, as we watched the dance start. ‘What was in those letters you sent?’
    ‘Oh, I might have dispensed with Miss Winslowe’s attacks on Miss Ashby for a direct assault on the young lord. What do we have now?’ she asked after a sudden noise erupted from the floor. I looked and saw that the dancers had stopped and were looking at Mr Hickham, who stood still with a piece of paper in his hand. His slapstick had fallen to the floor, accounting for the sound.
    Charlotte laughed what I can only describe as a cackle, and said, ‘Oh, what brilliant children.’
    Mr Hickham tore off his mask and threw it to the floor. His face was flushed, as he looked left and right. We saw Mr King step forward as planned to confront and delay Mr Hickham.
    ‘Jane, we must hurry. Miss Winslowe has heard the commotion; you can see her by the tearoom. Now would be the perfect time. Yes, she has seen my signal.’ Charlotte turned to me. ‘We must go.’
    We hurried out the room. I could hear Mr Hickham’s voice cursing as we left and I wished to see and hear more, but I knew we must hurry. We had some difficulty exiting as the crowd pressed in, but soon found ourselves in the Small Octagon and then to the room Mr King had prepared. #
    We opened the door and immediately heard Mrs Fitzhugh’s voice. ‘It has started?’ she asked. ‘Indeed it has,’ I answered. We closed the door behind us and all was darkness until a candle was uncovered and we saw Mrs Fitzhugh step out from behind a screen. We ran to meet her and slipped behind the screen where Mrs Ashby was also waiting.
    ‘What is going on?’ Mrs Ashby cried.
    ‘Madame,’ Charlotte said in her voice that brooked no quarrel, ‘be silent. All will shortly be revealed.’
    Mrs Ashby’s protestations subsided and I quickly shed the Persian slippers and exchanged them for ones matching Miss Winslowe’s footwear. And Mrs Fitzhugh removed Charlotte’s armour