the trials of such a radical drop in both social and financial status would be far less difficult for her than a politely arranged marriage to someone she did not love and who could not hold her interest or respect.
But in spite of their continued affection, it was most unlike Caroline to send for Charlotte over something as trivial as a petty theft. After all, such things did occur every so often. If it was a trinket, it was probably one of the servant girls borrowing it to wear for an evening out. It might well turn up again, if a few judicious hints were dropped. Caroline had had servants all her life; she ought to be able to cope with such a matter without recourse to advice from anyone.
Still, Charlotte would go; it would be a pleasant day, and she had been through a time of hard work getting the house into the order she wished.
“I’m going out tomorrow, Gracie,” she said casually. “My mother has invited me to take luncheon with her. We can leave doing the landing curtains until the day after. You can look after Jemima and scrub this floor and the wooden cupboard in the corner. Get some good soap into it. It still smells odd to me.”
“Yes, ma’am, and there’ll be some laundry. And shall I take Jemima for a walk if it’s fine?”
“Yes, please, that would be excellent.” Charlotte stood up. If she was going to be out for most of tomorrow, then she had better get on with the bread this afternoon, and see what her best day dress looked like after hanging up in a wardrobe over the winter. Gracie was only fifteen, but she was a competent little thing and liked nothing better than caring for Jemima. Charlotte had already told her that in six months’ time there would be another baby to care for. And it was part of the terms of Gracie’s employment that she should do the heavy laundry that another child would entail as well as the usual kitchen and household chores. Far from being daunted by the prospect, Gracie appeared to be positively excited. She came from a large family herself, and she missed the constant demanding and noisy companionship of children.
Pitt was tired when he came in from work a little before six. He had spent most of the day in the profitless pursuit of a couple of dragsmen, thieves who stole especially from carriages, and had ended up with nothing more for his exercise than half a dozen descriptions that did not match. An inspector of his experience would not have been called to deal with the affair at all had not one of the victims been a gentleman of title who was loath to have anything to do with the police. The man had lost a gold pocket watch inherited from his father-in-law, and did not care to have to explain its absence.
Charlotte welcomed him with the same strange mixture of excitement and comfort she always felt at the sight of his untidy, skew-collared, rumple-coated figure. She hugged him for several long, close minutes, then presented him with hot soup and his dinner. She did not disturb him with so trivial a matter as her mother’s mislaid item.
The following morning she stood in front of the cheval glass in her bedroom and adjusted the lace fichu at her neck to hide the place where she had taken off last year’s collar. Then she put on her best cameo brooch. The effect was entirely satisfactory; she was three months with child, but there was not yet any observable change in her figure, and with the customary whalebone corseting that laced even the most recalcitrant waist into elegant curves—uncomfortable though it was for the more generously made and almost crippling for the plump—she looked as slender as ever. The dark green wool was becoming to the warmth of her complexion and the richness of her hair, and the fichu took away from the severeness of the dress, making it a little more feminine. She did not wish Caroline, of all people, to think she had become dowdy.
The carriage came at eleven, and before half past it had crossed the city, trotted along the sedate length of Lincolnshire Road, and turned into the quiet, tree-lined elegance of Rutland Place. It stopped in front of the white portico of number 12, and the footman opened the door and handed Charlotte out onto the damp pavement.
“Thank you,” she said without looking around, as if she were perfectly accustomed to it, as indeed she had been until only a few years ago.
The door opened before she reached it, and the butler appeared.
“Good morning, Miss Charlotte,” he said, inclining his head a little.
“Good morning, Maddock.” She smiled at him. She had known him since she was sixteen and he had first come as butler when her family lived in Cater Street, before the murders there during which she had met and married Pitt.
“Mrs. Ellison is in the withdrawing room, Miss Charlotte.” Maddock moved easily just before her to push the door.
Inside, Caroline was standing in the middle of the room, a bright fire burning behind her against the chill spring, a bowl of daffodils spilling gold reflections all over the polished table. She was wearing a gown of pink peach, as soft as an evening sky, which must have cost her a month’s dress allowance. There were not more than a dozen threads of gray in her dark hair. She stepped forward immediately.
“My dear, I’m so glad to see you. You look extremely well. Do come in and warm yourself. I don’t know why spring is so cold. Everything looks marvelous, bursting with life, but the wind is like a blade. Thank you, Maddock. We’ll take luncheon in about an hour.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He closed the door behind him, and Caroline put her arms round Charlotte and hugged her hard.
“You should come more often, Charlotte. I really do miss you. Emily is so busy these days with all her social circle, I hardly see her.”
Charlotte tightened her arms round her for a moment, then stood back. Her younger sister Emily had married into the aristocracy and was enjoying every opportunity it afforded. Neither of them spoke of her other sister, Sarah, who had died so dreadfully in Cater Street.
“Well, sit down, my dear.” Caroline arranged herself elegantly on the sofa and Charlotte sat opposite in the big chair.
“How is Thomas?” Caroline asked.
“Very well, thank you. And Jemima.” Charlotte dealt with all the expected questions. “And the house is very comfortable and my new maid is working out most satisfactorily.”
Caroline sighed with faint amusement.
“You don’t change, do you, Charlotte? You still speak your mind the minute you think it. You are about as subtle as a railway engine! I don’t know what I would have done with you if you had not married Thomas Pitt!”
Charlotte smiled broadly.
