Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend

guarded against. I dare say another ten seconds and I would have had a third proposal to deal with.’
    ‘Nonsense!’ I said. ‘I only felt compassion for the dear … for Mr Worcester.’
    ‘Of course,’ she said, although I think she still worried of my susceptibility to Mr Worcester’s charms. ‘Now we have found a strategy to silence Mr Worcester’s aunt, at least temporarily. We must do the same for the Stiltons.’
    ‘Can we not simply convince them as well that it would be imprudent to announce the engagement?’
    ‘Yes, but the situation is different for the mother of a bride. Her desire to publish an announcement is much stronger than that of the bridegroom’s aunt. She must think that publication will more tightly bind Mr Worcester to his promise. And so I think for the Stiltons, we must add another argument to delay the announcement.’
    ‘And what would that be?’
    ‘I have no idea. Come. Let’s catch up with Mr Worcester. If we do not hurry we will be rushed to dress for dinner.’
    —&—
    Despite Charlotte’s worry, we made it back with enough time to hold a brief conference with Mr Worcester and Mrs Fitzhugh and then to dress and be ready by the dinner gong. We joined the rest of the party assembled in the drawing-room and although Mrs Walthorpe had only arrived days before and was renting the house, she greeted us as the
grande dame
of the manor, as Mr Worcester had described. She quickly sorted us—a relatively easy task with the Blankenships not yet arrived—and we entered the dining room. #
    Deerfield Park was certainly the grandest home I’d ever visited and the dining room was magnificently set, even for such a small party. The girandole on the table, decorated with chasing nymphs, was a positive fire hazard and I could not guess the number of candles it held. And the light from the girandole and the light from the chandeliers reflected manifold off the plate and cutlery on the table and the shining parquetry floor beneath. #
    I found myself sitting beside Miss Stilton and across from Mrs Fitzhugh, while Charlotte found herself immediately next Mr Stilton and across from Mr Worcester. Mrs Stilton had Mrs Walthorpe’s other ear.
    ‘So, Miss Woodsen, you are a friend of Bertie?’ Miss Stilton asked in what seemed a frosty voice. ‘I thought I knew all his friends.’ She was very pretty and had exceedingly red hair, a turned up nose and skin like pink marble, but she was even shorter than myself.
    ‘No, Miss Stilton, the relationship is more tenuous. I am a friend of Miss House, whose brother is a friend of Mr Worcester’s and is known to Mrs Walthorpe.’
    ‘Oh, you know Squiddy?’ she asked in a completely different tone that suddenly seemed to claim me as friend.
    ‘Squiddy?’
    ‘Michael.
Mistah
House. He’s so respectable now, but I know a few friends who called him Squiddy in his day. I, of course, tease him mercilessly about it.’
    ‘Whatever for? I mean why Squiddy?’
    ‘Tentacles, m’dear, tentacles.’ She made little wriggling motions with her fingers.
    ‘Stephanie!’ I heard her mother hiss.
    ‘Sorry mother.’ She turned toward me conspiratorially. ‘If you know Squiddy, you must be all right.’
    Apparently the very rich were quite different from my own very provincial experience. Charlotte and Mrs Fitzhugh did not seem disconcerted from the knowing ways of Mr Worcester and Miss Stilton, but I found it difficult to behave accordingly. I decided not to deny an acquaintance with Charlotte’s brother, as it seemed to put me in Miss Stilton’s confidence. To avoid further conversation, I paid attention to my beef consommé. I next heard Charlotte addressing our hostess.
    ‘Mrs Walthorpe, when do Sir Walter and his family arrive?’
    ‘To-morrow, Miss House. And I have planned a shooting party.’
    Mr Worcester rose and reached for a serving dish. ‘Excuse me Aunt Hermione, is this not Gaston’s
Mignonette de poulet petit Duc?’
he asked. #
    ‘Pardon my nephew’s interruption, my dear,’ Mrs Walthorpe said with a smile and then turned to her nephew with a frosty look. ‘It is indeed, Albert.’
    ‘You asked Gaston to cook your favourite nephew his favourite dish?’
    For a second a smile flickered on her lips but then melted away. ‘I did nothing of the sort. I asked my
chef de cuisine
to prepare his signature dish, and I might remind you that you are my only nephew.’ #
    Mr Worcester endured his aunt’s frosty stare and then returned