Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend

with Mr Hickham has excited you. You crave adventure but all you find is the mundane, while I, for one, find some comfort from it.’ I brought my hand to my neck hoping that I could draw some sympathy from her.
    ‘Oh please, Jane, you have gone to the well one too many times.’
    Mrs Fitzhugh gave a little laugh that confirmed my ploy had indeed outgrown its usefulness. I laughed as well and Charlotte at least smiled. Then came a knock at the door and the footman entered.
    ‘A caller, Miss House,’ Robert said, and handed her a card.
    Charlotte lazily took the card from the proffered salver and glanced at it. ‘What does he look like, Robert?’
    He answered in his courtly way, ‘I should not like to make a judgement on so brief a meeting, but he appears a refined young gentleman, Miss House.’
    ‘H’m,’ Charlotte said. ‘Refined young men don’t call this early in the day.’
    ‘You say you’re bored, my dear, let him in. We have already shed our morning dress and are prepared to meet the world,’ Mrs Fitzhugh said. #
    ‘Very well, Robert, let him in but be prepared to throw him out if he fails to amuse.’ We stood to greet our visitor; Charlotte did so slowly.
    Robert bowed, left and returned with our visitor. ‘Mr Albert Worcester,’ he announced before leaving us with the refined young gentleman. He was of slight build and moderate stature and dressed to the height of fashion, although he appeared a bit rumpled; and he carried a confused look about him that elicited a certain concern for his well being.
    We curtseyed and spoke our names and he returned us each with a bow. As ever, Mrs Fitzhugh acted as a proper hostess and saw him to a chair.
    ‘How is that spelled, Mr Worcester?’ I asked, as I did not have the benefit of the card that Charlotte still held. #
    ‘As in the shire, Miss … Woodsen? Sorry, I’m so bad with names I practically forget my own sometimes. I depend on my man to remind me. I mean the name of the person I’m talking to, of course, not mine. No, a name goes in one ear and out the other, ha, ha.’
    ‘Quite, Mr Worcester. And to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?’ Charlotte asked, which seemed to me a bit rude.
    ‘Brass tacks, eh? No beating about the bush. Get to the point, as the man says. Once more unto the what’s it. It’s a thing my man sometimes says.’
    ‘Once more unto the breach, dear friends?’ I offered. #
    ‘That’s it. But stay, do you know my man?’
    ‘No Mr Worcester, we do not,’ Charlotte said. ‘We know nothing of him or you, other than you are a very wealthy young man from London, most likely Kensington, have travelled quite some distance to be here, have yet to take lodging and that you have recently discharged your valet, whom I believe to be the man to whom you refer.’ #
    Mr Worcester stared at her open mouthed.
    ‘That is amazing,’ he confirmed. ‘How do you know this?’
    Despite wanting to appear indifferent, Charlotte could not resist looking pleased. ‘It is a simple matter. That you are wealthy is in evidence by your fashionable clothing that bespeaks a London tailor and your walking stick … which is seriously in danger from falling over and smashing a rather nice vase, due to its heavy gold knob.’ Mrs Fitzhugh quietly laid the stick on the floor. ‘That you do not have a valet at present is shown by your waistcoat, which is off by a button, evidence of a gentleman dressing himself. And your coat is stained by rain and as it hasn’t rained here in days you have travelled a distance. And had you entered lodgings, those stains would have been erased by now.’
    ‘Absolutely right. You’re a magician!’ He looked down at his waistcoat and I could see he weighed the propriety of fixing his buttons.
    ‘No, I am merely observant.’
    ‘And your surmise about Kensington?’ I asked.
    ‘When a young man from London suddenly appears on my doorstep I assume he has been sent by my brother Michael. I also, I admit, now recall his name.’
    Mr Worcester nodded at this. ‘Well this is fun. You wouldn’t know what I did with my pocket watch, would you? Can’t find the silly thing anywhere.’
    ‘No, Mr Worcester, I do not. And now if I might ask again the reason for your visit.’
    ‘Well, as to that, I’m in a spot of bother. I’ve gone ahead and gotten myself engaged.’
    ‘Congratulations,’ Mrs Fitzhugh said.
    ‘To two women, bit awkward.’
    ‘Ah,’ Charlotte said, rising, ‘I am afraid I