Her newspapers were brought, and she thanked the attendant with a charming smile—but she hoped not so charming that he would remember her.
It took her a quarter of an hour of diligent reading of print to discover both the articles she needed. It was a much more difficult thing to devise a way of cutting them out without being seen. For all she knew, to steal the pieces of newspaper might very well be a criminal offense. It would be most unfortunate to find herself under arrest and hauled off to Pitt’s police station charged with vandalism and common theft!
She turned and smiled at the military gentleman.
He looked uncomfortable and swiveled to face the other way.
The student of revolution did not appear to notice either of them.
Charlotte rattled the newspaper and sniffed loudly.
The military man was startled and looked at her with disapproval.
She smiled at him radiantly.
He was profoundly unhappy. He blushed red and fished for a handkerchief to blow his nose.
She pulled out a lace handkerchief and held it out towards him, smiling even more brightly.
He regarded her with utter horror, rose from his seat and fled.
Charlotte bent very low over the newspaper, shielding it from the side of the revolutionary, and cupped out first one piece she wanted, and then the other. She was shaking and her face was hot. She was stealing and she knew it, but there was no other way to prove the truth of what she was saying.
She closed the huge ledgers and left them on the table. She glanced around to see if she could find the attendant. He appeared to be chastising an elderly lady in a mauve-colored hat. Charlotte put her head down, the pieces of paper in her reticule along with the scissors, and walked rapidly and as nearly silently as possible out of the reading room, her hand over her mouth as if she were about to be ill.
A young man made a halfhearted attempt to apprehend her, then abandoned the idea. He might have been going to ask her to replace her reading material, or account for it, but he may simply have been going to offer her assistance. She would never know.
Outside the cold air of the street was marvelous, but she was still burningly aware of the papers in her reticule and the dour face of the senior attendant. She wanted to laugh aloud at the military man, and then to run as fast as she could and be lost among the crowd. She did have a quiet chuckle, and then walked as rapidly as she could, and not attract undue attention to herself, until she saw a hansom, which she hailed, and directed it to take her to the railway station.
It was dark and bitterly cold when Charlotte arrived back at Ashworth Hall and was met by a tired footman. All the rest of the household had retired early, shaken and frightened after the day’s events. The hall had been swept and dusted and mopped again, but the dust was still settling, and no amount of housework by maids with brooms or cloths could disguise the splintered wood of the study door, now rehung but still badly scarred, and definitely a trifle crooked.
“Thank you,” she said politely, annoyed with herself that she was too tired to remember his name. She had been told it.
“Can I bring you anything, ma’am?” he asked dutifully.
“No, thank you. Lock up and go to bed. I shall go upstairs.”
“Your maid is waiting for you, ma’am.”
“Oh … oh, yes. Of course.” She had forgotten that Gracie would be taking her lady’s maid duties so seriously. She had not the heart or the strength to tell her tonight that the story Finn Hennessey had told her was substantially untrue. She had to know, but the next day would be time enough. She stopped on the stairs and turned back.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, wishing again she could recall the footman’s name.
“Yes ma’am, nothing new has happened, not since this morning.”
“Thank you. Good night.”
“Good night, ma’am.”
Upstairs, Gracie was curled up in the big chair in the dressing room, sound asleep. Her scrubbed face was free of any lines, but her skin was pale, even in the light of the single lamp, and she looked like a worn-out child. She still had her cap on, but it had slid sideways and her hair was coming undone, straight and fine, shiny and impossible to curl. She had been with Charlotte and Pitt for seven years. She was as close as a member of the family, closer than most.
It was a shame to wake her up, but she would not thank anyone for assuming she was not up to her duty. And anyway, she would waken some time in the night, stiff from lying curled up, and then she would wonder what had happened. She might be terrified Charlotte had not come home.
“Gracie,” Charlotte said, touching her sleeping hand where it lay curled under her chin. It was as small as a child’s, scrubbed clean like her face. “Gracie!”
Gracie stirred and slipped back into sleep again.
“Gracie,” Charlotte said more firmly. “You can’t stay there, you’ll wake up suffer than Mr. Pitt.”
“Oh!” Gracie opened her eyes and relief flooded her face as she saw Charlotte. She straightened up and scrambled to her feet. “Oh, I’m real glad yer safe, ma’am! Yer didn’t ought ter go on them trains all by yerself. The master’s in bed, ma’am, but I’ll lay anything ’e in’t asleep yet neither.”
“Thank you for waiting up for me,” Charlotte replied, hiding her smile and taking off her cape as Gracie reached for it to hang it up.
“That’s me job,” Gracie said with satisfaction. “Yer like some ’ot water ter wash in?”
