Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend

us.
    Mr Worcester had apparently been telling a story to Mr Stilton. ‘And then I said, “Why not one for the goat as well?” Ha, ha. No, it was a sheep wasn’t it? Still the same though.’
    ‘No Mr Worcester, it is not,’ Mr Stilton said. He sat beside his wife and as he did so they exchanged looks of long suffering.
    Mr Worcester remained standing and Charlotte rose to join him. I noticed that Miss Stilton observed this.
    ‘You appear in good spirits, Mr Worcester,’ I heard Charlotte say.
    ‘Thank you, I am feeling rather braced.’
    ‘It is in stark contrast to your earlier mood.’
    ‘The Worcester spirit always rallies at the sound of the dinner gong. There’s something about dressing for the soup and fish that calms the nerves and after enjoying Gaston’s god-like gifts, the world seems a less forbidding place.’
    ‘There is no other reason?’
    ‘No. None at all. No other reason.’
    ‘I see. I must apologize, sir, for painting you in an unfavourable light before your aunt and the Stiltons,’ Charlotte said quietly. I noticed Miss Stilton straining to hear their conversation.
    ‘No need to apologize. Even with her obligatory regard for her sister’s son, my aunt has always regarded me as a blot on the family escutcheon.’ #
    ‘I can tell she cares for a you a great deal.’
    ‘Whatever can Bertie and Miss House be whispering?’ Miss Stilton asked loudly.
    ‘Stephanie, I would appreciate your not bellowing,’ her father said, reaching for the brandy he had brought from the dining room.
    ‘I was only complimenting Mr Worcester on his courageous political opinion, contrary as it is to the ruling party,’ Charlotte said.
    Suddenly Mr Stilton was choking and his wife was attending him by slapping him on the back.
    ‘Kindly stop hitting me,’ he said finally after his coughing fit subsided. He mopped his brow with his handkerchief, lumbered to his feet and said, ‘Mr Worcester, do I understand that you are in favour of _?’
    Mr Worcester stood there frozen, his mouth agape.
    ‘Bertie’s never had a political opinion in his entire life, courageous or otherwise,’ Miss Stilton said.
    ‘Quiet, Stephanie!’
    Mr Worcester finally offered, ‘I might have said it was a good idea.’
    Sensing that Mr Worcester’s opinion was not yet fully formed, Mr Stilton decided to take a more politic tone.
    ‘My boy, you’re surely not aware of the ramifications of the policy you are suggesting. It would be most disruptive to me … I mean the party … were it known …’ He mopped his brow again. ‘Mrs Walthorpe, if I could borrow your nephew for a moment?’
    ‘Please, Mr Stilton,’ she said and waved him away. It was clear she was startled at the turn of events. ‘Imagine Albert having a political opinion!’
    Mr Stilton led Mr Worcester away. The conversation among our reduced party was somewhat strained after this and soon Mrs Walthorpe announced that she was still tired after her journey from London. After inviting us to remain, she and Mrs Stilton retired, although I noticed they maintained a whispered conversation as they left.
    ‘Well played, Miss House,’ Miss Stilton said after they had left.
    ‘Come again?’ Charlotte asked sweetly.
    ‘Why are you interfering in my engagement with Bertie?’
    Charlotte took her seat and said, ‘Very well, we shall speak plainly and put our cards on the table.’
    Miss Stilton sat opposite her. She remained silent a few seconds and then asked, ‘You’re not in love with Bertie are you?’
    ‘No, I am not.’
    ‘Well that’s all right then. I didn’t think you were—Bertie is an acquired taste—but then what is your interest?’
    ‘It coincides with yours, actually. I want to see you happy with … heavens, I’ve forgotten his name.’
    ‘Mr Potterthwaite,’ Mrs Fitzhugh supplied.
    ‘Thank you, Margaret.’
    ‘How do you know about Potty?’
    ‘Mr Worcester has told us all,’ Charlotte said.
    ‘Oh! Why would he … oh I see! He doesn’t have Cheevers around to tell him what to do and he has turned to you. Squiddy’s mentioned you. Says you’re something of a matchmaker.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Your brother,’ I said.
    ‘Really! Extraordinary!’ The information appeared to delight Charlotte and caused her to remain silent.
    ‘It was not very nice your holding Mr Worcester to a hasty proposal,’ Mrs Fitzhugh said in the void left by Charlotte.
    ‘Well, if you know everything, then you know I just … I really want to