Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend

you … But where is Miss House?’ she asked upon realizing I was alone.
    ‘It is only me to-day, Mrs La Fontaine.’
    ‘And who exactly are you?’
    ‘I am Miss House’s friend …
her particular friend,
Miss Woodsen.’
    She looked at me in that way you do when you find an unfamiliar offering at dinner—you don’t know if you’ve ever eaten it before and you suspect you’re not going to like it.
    ‘Ah yes, I remember now, the short girl. Well, any friend of Miss House deserves my utmost attention.’ Her assistant spoke in a whisper to her employer.
    ‘Oh yes, it is time for your fitting. Please come through to the next room.’
    I obliged and found the three dresses we had contracted for awaiting me.
    ‘Oh, these are lovelier than I could have ever imagined. The quality of the work is superb,’ I gushed, and my praise had its effect.
    ‘I am glad you like them Miss Watson.’
    I smiled and bore the error, thinking it was a small price to pay to gain her good graces.
    ‘You had good taste in selecting these. They are quite fashionable in London. You are returning there?’
    Here I knew not what to say. I had presumed on my hostess for far too long and I knew that eventually Charlotte and Mrs Fitzhugh would return to London and I was unsure if I was to join them. I had no reason to think that Charlotte would not wish me to accompany her; surely she would not have insisted on buying me these dresses otherwise. But she had never specifically said that I was to come and so naturally I worried. #
    ‘Yes,’ I said, preferring to believe that Charlotte believed the matter already settled.
    ‘Then you will look grand in these and the lines will perhaps convey an impression of height.’ I smiled at this, thinking I might have been paid a compliment or a criticism or both.
    ‘You are Miss House’s particular friend, are you not?’ Mrs La Fontaine asked, apparently having forgot my earlier statement.
    ‘Yes, I have that honour.’
    ‘H’m, then we must take special pains to make these dresses truly outstanding. Perhaps a contrasting colour here, do you think?’ she said in an aside to her assistant. Soon they were in heavy conversation, the assistant never quite speaking above a whisper while Mrs La Fontaine only agreed to her own opinions, rejecting the asked for opinions of her assistant.
    I was left standing there on the little footstool feeling both ignored and yet the centre of attention. To draw attention to my existence, I asked, ‘Mrs La Fontaine, are you acquainted by any chance with a Mr Sunderland?’
    ‘Sunderland, Sunderland? Why the name is familiar, but I can’t recall …’
    Again her assistant whispered something.
    ‘Ah, thank you Julia. That is the man indeed. Yes, Miss Wilson, I do recall him now, if he be … pardon me, but you do have the full confidence of your friend, do you not?’
    I recalled the number of confidences shared by Mrs La Fontaine and Charlotte while I sat nearby, apparently invisible to the dress maker.
    ‘I do.’
    ‘Well, I believe Mr Sunderland is that gentleman Miss Caroline Chivington has repeatedly rejected as a suitor.’
    ‘Oh, and has she given reason for her rejection?’ At this Mrs La Fontaine shushed away her assistant and leaned closer to me.
    ‘Well, Miss Chivington is a very well mannered young woman … a bit of a bore frankly. She follows all the niceties of dress and appearance and manner and never does anything remotely outrageous or interesting. What Mr Sunderland can find fascinating about her is a mystery, but I always say there is someone for every taste.
    ‘But Mr Sunderland is another matter. He is chivalrous and gallant and charming and
dangerous.’
She said this last word with a special emphasis.
    ‘For you know he has a reputation for constantly duelling that has made him … infamous. He seeks out any offence to his honour and has such a manner that urges his … I may say his victim for that is the truth of the matter … he urges his victim to give satisfaction and then cruelly despatches him.’
    I forbore mentioning Charlotte’s information that he had only fought two duels without injury, and instead asked, ‘And is that the reason for Miss Chivington’s refusal?’
    ‘I have heard this, but she might have better reason to refuse him.’
    ‘Which is?’ I prompted.
    ‘Mr Sunderland’s finances may not bear scrutiny,’ she replied.
    ‘I thought him a wealthy man.’
    ‘He maintains that appearance but I