Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend

have some hope of success. Here success will only bring more unhappiness.’
    ‘Then why do it?’ But my question solicited no response from Charlotte.
    ‘It is the locked room,’ Mrs Fitzhugh said, her comment surprising me. Usually when Charlotte and I dispute she merely watches us with amusement and detachment.
    ‘You are correct as always, Margaret.’
    ‘She cannot ignore the challenge of how the map could be stolen and yet remain in a locked room.’
    ‘But you forget the other possibility—the real reason I travel to Bradford.’
    ‘And what is that?’ I asked.
    ‘The possibility that the younger brother is blameless, which if I can prove it should at least reassure the lady that her future brother-in-law is not the villain she imagines.’
    Her comment had me puzzled. ‘You think it possible the brother is blameless?’
    ‘I neither think one way nor the other. It is merely a possibility and the only good outcome I can see.’
    Her words silenced me, for I felt foolish in not entertaining the possibility that the gentleman might be innocent; the story as presented had seemed so plausible. Suddenly the words ‘weighty responsibility’ struck home and I realized that I must be as guarded as my friend and approach these matters with an open mind.
    So it was in silence that the journey continued. I thought Mrs Fitzhugh also lost in thought and then realized she had merely gone to sleep despite the rocking of the carriage. But before long we arrived in Bradford and climbed St. Margaret’s Hill and found the house that Mr Haversham had rented. #
    Our arrival was keenly anticipated, for we saw a maid observe our arrival, and she was quickly joined by a young lady I guessed to be Miss Streetham, followed almost immediately by an older woman I similarly guessed to be her mother.
    ‘Miss House, is it?’ the young lady enquired as we emerged from the carriage, correctly judging which of us was Charlotte.
    ‘Yes, Miss Streetham?’ Charlotte returned, ‘And these are my friends, Miss Woodsen and Mrs Fitzhugh. It was kind of you to meet us directly.’
    To her credit, Charlotte was all warmth, not a hint showing of her misgivings or judgement as to the appropriateness of introductions done on the street.
    ‘Beryl, allow our visitors to step inside. Please forgive my daughter, but her only concern is for her young man.’ Mrs Streetham hustled us inside, calling out to maids and footmen to see to our belongings and insisting we refresh ourselves after our journey. She clearly did not shirk from ordering about Mr Haversham’s household.
    Once we were seated in the small drawing-room and I had my journal ready, Mrs Fitzhugh asked in a soft voice, ‘And how is Mr Haversham?’
    ‘He is improving,’ Miss Streetham said, although her downcast eyes and the slow shake of Mrs Streetham’s head belied this.
    ‘I shall need to speak with him, if this matter is …’ Charlotte began, but was interrupted by Miss Streetham.
    ‘No, not now. It would kill him,’ she said sharply, giving lie to her former statement. And then realizing the implications of what she had said, her head sunk further and I heard her small sob.
    Mrs Fitzhugh made as if to rush to the poor woman’s side but to my surprise Charlotte was there first, putting her arm around her shoulders and squeezing her tight and saying, ‘Then I shall speak to him when he is better. Don’t concern yourself, Miss Streetham. We are only here to help.’
    Charlotte will always surprise me,
I thought. She can seem so detached and yet is capable of great warmth, when she chuses. But having known her long enough, I also suspected that Charlotte’s actions might be attributable to her need to keep the woman calm enough for questioning, a suspicion that was quickly confirmed.
    ‘But if I am to help, I need to know more. Can you compose yourself enough to answer some questions?’
    Miss Streetham nodded and then looked directly at Charlotte. ‘Please, ask your questions.’
    Charlotte said ‘Good!’ and resumed her seat. ‘Mr Dundas has led me to believe that you suspect Mr Edward Haversham had stolen the map, which has proven detrimental to his brother’s business. Why would you think this?’
    ‘I found Mr Edward in his brother’s office days before this unfortunate event. I am sure he saw the map and I think he stole it. No, I am sure he stole it.’
    ‘You have little love for your future brother?’ Mrs Fitzhugh asked.
    ‘He is a cad of the