Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend

with Mr Worcester closely parallels that of Moses’s agenda with the Midianites and I am almost certain smiting comes under the heading of harm.’ #
    ‘But surely a man of the cloth —’
    ‘I am only a curate—an under curate really—and as such I am not yet set in my ways.’ He then stooped to find another stone.
    My friend appealed to him, ‘Miss Stilton would certainly disapprove of your harming Mr Worcester.’
    ‘As I have already lost her to Mr Worcester I can suffer her disapprobation.’
    ‘It will cause her considerable distress.’
    ‘Which the passage of time will undoubtedly heal.’
    ‘Come, Mr Potterthwaite, all is not lost,’ I said. ‘Do you not recall the pleasant conversation you had with Mrs Walthorpe before Mr Worcester’s arrival?’
    My words checked his swing and his stone easily missed.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Does she seem the tyrant you feared to ask for a living?’
    ‘No, she seemed very … say, you seem to know a lot about all this.’
    ‘Mr Worcester came to me for help … came to Miss House that is, for help,’ I amended when I saw Mrs Fitzhugh’s raised eyebrow. ‘We are familiar with and sympathetic to your plight.’
    ‘You know that I would marry Miss Stilton?’
    ‘Yes, and we know that she requires that you ask Mrs Walthorpe for the living that she controls. But she would never grant you this if you harm her nephew.’
    ‘Is that true, Worcester?’ he shouted upwards.
    ‘Let me think for a second, Potty. Of course I think better on
terra firma
. I’d come down and ponder it if you promise to lay off the smiting.’ #
    ‘’Fraid I could not promise that in all honesty, Bertie.’
    ‘Right-ho. Decent of you to warn me. Well as to your question, Aunt Hermione’s always considered me something of a sickly branch on the family tree. Ha! Rather apt metaphor, don’t you think? But yes, I suppose the ties that bind would lead one to conclude that she would look poorly on any physical harm coming to her favourite nephew.’ #
    Mr Potterthwaite looked back to us. ‘You really think I could ask Mrs Walthorpe for the living?’
    ‘Perhaps not immediately,’ my friend said, ‘but over the course of this weekend. She does not seem ill disposed toward you and a persistent campaign of solicitude might find her very receptive. I might be able to supply you with those little delicate compliments which are always acceptable to ladies.’ #
    ‘That would be very kind, Mrs Fitzhugh. I’m not very good at that sort of thing. Perhaps we could walk a bit and you might give me some examples.’
    My friend and Mr Potterthwaite left, leaving me standing under the tree.
    ‘I think it is safe to come down now, Mr Worcester.’
    ‘I doubt it will be safe, but I will come down.’
    I watched as he made his way down and wondered how he ever found his way up the tree, as the lowest branch was considerably above his height. He was forced to drop to the ground from the lowest branch and fortunately only injured his dignity.
    ‘Thank you, Miss Woodsen. I began to plan my life in that tree.’
    ‘Like St. Simeon Stylites.’ #
    ‘Pardon?’
    ‘A holy man who lived atop a pillar during the time of the Emperor Theodosius.’
    ‘You’re remarkably well informed. Lived on a pillar, eh? I wonder how many engagements he was fleeing.’
    ‘We should return to the house. I must dress for the party.’
    ‘Quite right, Miss Woodsen, although I might ask you to precede me. I’m afraid I’ve split my breeches.’
    —&—
    A pheasant rose from its covert followed by the crack of a gun and then a shouted ‘Blast!’
    ‘You’re holding it all wrong, Papa,’ Miss Blankenship said. I had heard this conversation or variants of it many times now since the start of the shoot.
    The sun had now risen high enough to have completely cleared away the fog and was warm enough that I was quite comfortable. I shielded my eyes from the sun to observe the shooting party. Sir Walter, who had arrived with his family shortly after Mr Worcester and I had returned to the house, was standing with Mr Stilton some distance from us, attended by the gamekeeper. We ladies, save for Miss Blankenship who stood beside her father, were seated some distance away.
    ‘Leave your father alone, dear, you’re only making it worse,’ Lady Blankenship said.
    ‘But his elbows are too high!’ his daughter protested with a backward glance to her mother. The young lady was as beautiful as Mr Worcester had described. Her