Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend

looking upward at Mr Worcester, who had sought refuge in the very same tree as before.
    ‘You mean you really don’t love Evie?’ Mr Cuthbertson asked of Mr Worcester.
    ‘Of course I don’t, you fathead. I know she adores you and always has.’
    At these words Miss Blankenship and Mr Cuthbertson looked tenderly at each other.
    ‘And you really don’t want to marry Stephanie?’ Mr Potterthwaite asked. ‘You’re not just saying that to escape being smitten … uh, smited?’
    ‘Yes, I don’t … I mean no I’m not. It was just a thing we did to make you brace Aunt Hermione about the living. Starts with a “p.” Ploy, that’s the word.’
    Mr Worcester’s words still left Mr Potterthwaite looking confused. ‘Look the Mite’s a terrific girl, but … oh, hullo young blot on my horizon,’ Mr Worcester said, presumably addressing this last to my companion.
    ‘Up a tree again, Bertie? Remember that summer when we were children …’
    I whispered to her, ‘Perhaps it would be as best not to share childhood reminiscences with Mr Potterthwaite in attendance.’
    She shot a glance at her intended, who wore a scowl appropriate for dealing with Midianites, and nodded.
    ‘Serves you right, you blasted Worcester,’ she shouted instead. ‘It’s all your fault for … for …’
    ‘For offering your help unasked,’ I supplied. ‘Miss Stilton did not ask you to propose’—I heard a gasp from Miss Blankenship—‘and your presumption that Mr Potterthwaite lacked the nerve to ask his aunt for the living was unwarranted. True, your actions were those of a … a … ’
    ‘A
preux chevalier?’
Mr Worcester suggested. #
    ‘Uh, yes if you like … the action of a
preux chevalier
on behalf of Miss Stilton and Mr Potterthwaite …’
    ‘Please, call me Potty, everyone does.’
    ‘Don’t you dare call me Cheese Mite!’
    ‘Bertie, old man, is that what you did for Evie? You sacrificed … well, that’s not quite the right word,’ he said nervously after a glare from his intended, ‘you pretended to be engaged thinking I lacked the nerve to declare my love for my darling Evelyn?’
    ‘Uh, yes.’
    ‘What a silly ass,’ Mr Cuthbertson said.
    I spoke. ‘Perhaps Mr Worcester could come down now, Mr Cuthbertson? Without fear of bodily harm?’
    ‘Of course, Miss Woodsen. And please call me Blotto.’
    Miss Blankenship then gave me a glare that did not encourage me so to do.
    ‘And you, Mr Potterthwaite, will not harm Mr Worcester?’ I asked.
    ‘So Stephanie never had any intention of marrying Worcester?’ he asked in return.
    ‘No!’ I and Miss Stilton said in unison.
    ‘Then I have no quarrel with him,’ Mr Potterthwaite said.
    ‘I think you can come down now, Mr Worcester,’ I said. ‘Gentlemen, if you might assist him?’
    While the men helped him down, I heard a terse exchange behind me.
    ‘I assume we both had the same idea, Miss Stilton.’
    ‘Yes. How did you do it?’
    ‘I simply announced it at dinner. Father nearly choked. And you?’
    ‘I, uh, tricked him into it, in front of his aunt.’
    ‘Well played.’
    ‘And you.’
    I relaxed after hearing this, although my estimation of Miss Stilton fell further. Although the two ladies remained cool to one another, at least they were civil.
    Aided by the two suitors, Mr Worcester was able to return to earth without any damage to his self or wardrobe. After he was down, Mr Potterthwaite said, ‘You caused an awful lot of trouble sticking your nose in like that, Bertie.’ He offered his hand and they shook.
    ‘Imagine me being afraid to propose to Evie,’ Mr Cuthbertson added, also offering his hand, which Mr Worcester also shook.
    I smiled at the sight of the two men, who moments before had wished Mr Worcester ill, now clasping him to their bosoms as a true, if somewhat addled friend. Good feelings abounded as Mr Worcester congratulated the parties on their successes until Miss Stilton said, ‘But we still have the problem of our parents.’
    ‘What’s that?’ Mr Potterthwaite asked.
    ‘Dearest one, I might have been premature in saying that my parents would have no objection to you if you could obtain the living from Bertie’s aunt.’
    I heard a sigh from Miss Blankenship as well. ‘I fear Mama and Papa will also question my wisdom in choosing a younger son as the man I wish to marry.’
    The gloom this cast on our group affected me so strongly that I unwisely said, ‘Do not worry so! My friend Charlotte, Miss House,