Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend

prepared and bowed low, the fist flying over his head. Then he sprang up and his right fist knocked Mr Hickham’s head to the side, followed by his body flying backward and then falling to the ground.
    Mr Wallace appeared stunned at what had happened and stood motionless for a second, then with a little gasp he trapped his hand under his left arm.
    More people entered the small room and Mr King directed: ‘Take this gentleman away and show him the street.’ The footmen who had just entered moved toward Mr Wallace, but Mr King said, ‘No, the one on the floor.’ The two footmen dragged Mr Hickham from the room.
    ‘Could someone please help me to stand?’ I asked in a voice lost amidst the confusion of the room. Mrs Fitzhugh heard me and tried to help but was unable. Then I felt Mr Wallace’s left arm slip around my waist and together they brought me upright. I then saw the pain on Mr Wallace’s face and noticed the colour had drained from it.
    ‘Please, someone help Mr Wallace,’ I said, this time loud enough to be heard. A gentleman I did not know rushed to support Mr Wallace, who staggered, and then Mr King came to Mr Wallace’s aid. Charlotte moved to Mr Wallace and carefully examined his hand.
    ‘He has broken his hand. Does anyone have spirits?’
    A small flask was provided and Charlotte raised it to his lips. Immediately after swallowing, he said, ‘Thank you. I can stand on my own now.’
    Yet another person entered the room and I heard a man cry, ‘Elizabeth! Is my wife here?’
    ‘Oh, Mr Ashby,’ Mrs Ashby cried, ‘it is awful. The marriage is off. Please get me away from here.’
    ‘I think we would all be better off if we left,’ Charlotte said. ‘Mr King, if you would see to Mr Wallace. I believe him to be staying with the Williamses.’
    ‘Of course, Miss House,’ he said with a tired sigh.
    ‘I am so sorry about the attention this has caused.’
    ‘We have done a job of it, have we not?’ He shook his head. ‘But do not let it trouble you. Exposing that man for a monster is its own reward.’
    ‘I would prefer, of course, that my involvement were to remain unknown.’
    ‘Naturally.’
    ‘And I think for her own sake, Miss Winslowe would prefer …’
    Mr King looked toward that lady, now accompanied by her cousins. ‘Say no more. From what you tell me, she has suffered enough.’
    ‘As has my poor Jane,’ Charlotte said, coming to my side. ‘Come Margaret, we shall take our fearless friend home and praise her until she blushes.’

Partial Justice
    ‘I have sent a letter to Lord M_ informing him of his son’s behaviour,’ Mr King said.
    ‘Have you? That is rather bold of you,’ Charlotte said. I lay on the sopha, listening to them talk and feeling pains in my body that had developed overnight. Falling into the screen with Mr Hickham’s body atop me had caused more injury than I had realized and I had spent the day recuperating. Mr King’s visit found Charlotte and me in the drawing-room. A glass of port remained just out of my reach and I made a small sound of distress. #
    Charlotte sighed and said, ‘Honestly, Jane. You are not that knocked up.’ She rose anyway and brought me the glass and returned to Mr King.
    ‘As I was saying,’ she said archly, ‘that was a brave thing.’
    ‘Yes, well, it was my duty. I couched it in the best terms of course, but it was an unpleasant task. The baron, I understand, is an old man and frail, but there is nothing that might stop his son’s bad behaviour other than his father’s displeasure. As the son of a baron, attaining justice will not be an easy thing, and unless Miss Winslowe or Miss Woodsen step forward …’ #
    ‘I think Miss Winslowe has suffered enough and I think the notoriety—which I trust we will maintain—will considerably dampen Mr Hickham’s appeal,’ she said. ‘As for Jane,’ and here she looked at me, ‘well, we cannot act freely or discreetly if we’re always in court.’
    I nodded my head in agreement to no little pain and took another sip.
    ‘It is a partial justice at best,’ said Mr King with a sigh.
    ‘Partial justice is better than none. Miss Winslowe feels justly proud that she has stopped Miss Ashby from being Mr Hickham’s victim. She no longer feels powerless, I think.’
    I could see through half closed eyes Mr King nod, and then he said, ‘I have looked in on your Mr Wallace, Miss Woodsen. Or perhaps I should say Doctor Wallace.’
    I opened my eyes and said, ‘I am