Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend

minutes earlier.
    ‘Oh, hullo Potty,’ Mr Worcester said weakly. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’
    ‘Albert!’ Mrs Walthorpe said with a voice that commanded attention, including Mr Potterthwaite’s. Despite the pleasant conversation he had been enjoying with her, he still quaked at the sound of her raised voice, even when not directed at him.
    ‘You certainly took your time this morning,’ his aunt said. ‘The Blankenships will be arriving shortly.’
    ‘May I have a word with you privately, Worcester,’ Mr Potterthwaite said, a little more quietly.
    ‘Actually, I’d hoped to have a little something in the way of toast and jam and … and maybe a boiled egg, or …’ #
    ‘Mrs Walthorpe, please excuse me, but I must have a word with Mr Worcester,’ Mr Potterthwaite said with a bow to our hostess.
    ‘Yes, well if you must, but you’ll find little to recommend from conversation with my nephew.’
    Mr Potterthwaite led Mr Worcester by the arm and took him from the room.
    ‘I was unaware Mr Potterthwaite knew Albert,’ Mrs Walthorpe said. ‘He seems a nice young man, Miss Stilton.’
    Miss Stilton quickly nodded her agreement and said, ‘He’s done amazingly well at Stanton Green organizing fetes and such, but he’s so constrained what he can do there as just a curate.’
    Mrs Walthorpe admitted that a curate worked under limitations but that the Reverend Herbert would no doubt be at a loss without him, and then turned her attention to the elder Stiltons.
    Miss Stilton, upset that she had failed to further promote Mr Potterthwaite’s charms, then joined our group. ‘Miss House, I did not expect Clarence would come. He had seemed in such fear of Mrs Walthorpe when I gave him my earlier ultimatum.’
    ‘What ultimatum was that?’
    ‘I told him that if he did not love me enough to ask Mrs Walthorpe for the living, that I might as well marry Bertie.’
    I thought of Mr Potterthwaite’s behaviour and gasped, ‘You don’t think … he does not plan to harm Mr Worcester?’
    ‘I very much fear he does.’
    ‘But he is a curate!’ Mrs Fitzhugh said.
    ‘While at Oxford he was known as the Pugnacious Padre, both for his skill at the pugilistic arts and for his promotion of abolition.’
    ‘I see,’ Charlotte said. ‘Jane, Margaret, perhaps you can remind Mr Potterthwaite of the strictures of his office. I must remain here to await the Blankenships.’
    We agreed and made our apologies to our hostess and left the room. Fortunately we found the footman who had introduced Mr Potterthwaite. We asked him if he had seen the gentlemen, and he directed us to the north lawn. We hurried outside and looked in vain for any sign of Mr Potterthwaite and Mr Worcester.
    ‘Stupid girl indeed!’ I said. ‘Her scheming and manipulation may see Mr Worcester injured.’
    ‘I agree she is a silly girl but I doubt Mr Potterthwaite would be so reckless … wait, do you hear something?’
    Distantly I heard, ‘Get down from there, you blasted Worcester!’
    ‘Yes, I believe it comes from that direction.’
    We ran toward an opening in the wall that defined the north lawn. On the other side of the wall we found Mr Potterthwaite standing beneath an oak tree, throwing stones into its branches. He heard our approach and turned.
    ‘Mr Potterthwaite!’ I said.
    My cry made him start and then turn, with perhaps another invective upon his lips, but when he saw us, he said, ‘Ladies, forgive me, I don’t remember your names.’
    We introduced ourselves again and then he said, ‘Pardon my manners. I should introduce Mr Worcester. But then you must already be acquainted.’ He looked upward and threw another stone into the tree. There we saw Mr Worcester clinging tightly to a branch—a very high branch.
    ‘Good morning,’ he said.
    ‘Good morning, sir,’ I answered. He appeared unharmed and my anxiety was relieved.
    ‘You are very high up. Should you not come down?’
    ‘No, I’m quite comfortable, excellent view from here. Look, I can see them arranging the marquee for our shoot.’ He pointed in the direction of the shoot but his attitude provided an easy target for Mr Potterthwaite, who struck his outstretched arm with a stone. He cried out and temporarily lost his grasp on the branch and slipped, but he managed to secure his hold. #
    ‘I really must insist you come down. I am sure Mr Potterthwaite means you no harm—well, no real harm.’
    ‘I do not wish to disagree with you, Miss Woodsen, but my agenda