“Thank you for the tea. I’m quite warm and refreshed now. I must return home before the evening begins to chill. I shall inform my mother of your satisfaction with the mufflers, and I’m sure she will be most grateful that there is more we can do. Children’s clothes. I shall begin tomorrow. I expect we shall do well.”
Martha Prebble came to the front with her. She put her hand on Charlotte’s arm in the hallway.
“My dear Charlotte, don’t mind the vicar; he is solicitous for our well-being, and doesn’t mean to sound so harsh. I’m sure he was as distressed as anyone that-that tragedies should happen.”
“Of course. I understand.” Charlotte loosened herself. She did not understand at all. She thought nothing but ill of the vicar, but she was sorry for Martha. She could not imagine living with such a man. Although he was perhaps not so different from many men. They all tended to be pretty severe with girls like the Misses Madison, and in truth they were more than a little tedious. But not sinful-just incredibly silly.
Martha smiled.
“You are very gentle, my dear. I knew you would.” And she stood on the doorstep watching Charlotte down the path.
Two days later they were all sitting in the withdrawing room sewing the children’s clothes Martha Prebble had requested, when Edward returned home as usual.
They heard the front door close. There was a murmur of voices as Maddock took his coat and hat, but a moment later, instead of Edward, it was Maddock whose face showed at the door.
“Madame,” he looked at Caroline, his face flushed.
“Yes, Maddock?” Caroline was surprised, not yet aware of anything wrong. “What is it? Was that not Mr. Ellison?”
“Yes, Madame. Would you be so good as to come into the hall?”
Now Charlotte, Emily, and Sarah all stared at him. Caroline stood up.
“Of course.”
As soon as she was gone they turned to look at one another.
“What’s happened?” Emily said immediately, excitement in her voice. “Do you suppose Papa has brought company? I wonder who it is, and if he is wealthy-a man from the city perhaps?”
“Then why doesn’t he bring him in?” Charlotte asked.
Sarah frowned and looked at the ceiling in exasperation.
“Really, Charlotte, he would naturally consult Mama first, and introduce him. Maybe he is not suitable for us to meet. Perhaps he is only someone in trouble, someone who needs help.”
“What a bore,” Emily sighed. “You mean a beggar, someone in reduced circumstances?”
“I don’t know. Papa may be having Maddock take care of him, but he would naturally tell Mama about it.”
Emily stood up and went to the door.
“Emily! You aren’t going to listen?”
Emily held her finger to her lips, smiling.
“Don’t you want to know?” she asked.
Charlotte got to her feet quickly and went over to Emily, standing almost on top of her.
“Well, I certainly do,” she joined in. “Open the door, just a crack.”
Emily had already done so. They crouched over it together, and a moment later Charlotte felt the warmth of Sarah right behind her, her taffeta afternoon dress rustling a little.
“Edward, you must destroy the newspapers,” Caroline was saying. “Say that you lost them.”
“We don’t know that it will be in the newspapers.”
“Of course it will!” Caroline was angry, upset. Her voice quavered. “And you know that-”
Charlotte drew in her breath sharply; her mother was about to betray her.
“-that it might get left where one of the girls could see it.” Caroline went on. “And I won’t have the servants read it either. Poor Mrs. Dunphy sometimes uses newspapers to wrap kitchen refuse, or Lily might use them in cleaning. It would frighten the poor things out of their wits.”
“Yes,” Edward agreed. “Yes, my dear, you are quite right. I shall read it and destroy it before returning home. It would be wise if we could keep Mama from hearing about it. It is bound to distress her.”
Caroline’s agreement lacked any conviction. Charlotte smiled, hiding her face in Emily’s silk back. It was her private opinion that Grandmama was tougher than a Turkish soldier in the Crimea she was always talking about. Apparently Caroline thought so, too. But what was it that had happened? Her curiosity was boiling over.
“Was the poor girl-” Caroline swallowed; they could hear it from behind the door-” garotted, like Chloe Abernathy?”
“Hardly like Chloe Abernathy,” Edward corrected, but there was a catch in his voice too, as if reality had just overtaken him. “Chloe was a. . a respectable girl. This maid of the Hiltons’ was-well, it seems regrettable to speak ill of the dead, especially dead in such a terrible way, but she was a girl of dubious reputation. She had more followers than any decent girl would. I dare say that was what brought about her terrible death.”
“You said she was found in the street, Edward?”
“Yes, in Cater Street, not half a mile from the vicar’s.”
“Well, don’t the Hiltons live in Russmore Street? That leads off Cater Street at the far end. I suppose she went out to meet someone and it. . it happened.”
“Hush, my dear. It was quite horrible, obscene. We won’t speak of it any more. We had better go into the withdrawing room or they will begin to wonder what is keeping us. I just hope the whole neighbourhood won’t be buzzing with it. I imagine Dominic will have the sense not to speak of it, at least of the more. . bestial aspects of it?”
“Well,
“I must warn him to be discreet. We don’t want the girls upset, or the servants either. But I had better have a word with Maddock, and see that neither Dora nor Lily goes out walking alone until this wretched man is caught.” There was a sound of footsteps as he moved.
Charlotte felt Emily’s elbow in her ribs as a sharp warning and they all collapsed backwards and fled to their respective seats. They were sitting awkwardly, skirts crumpled, when the door opened.
Edward’s face was pale, but he was perfectly composed.
“Good evening, my dears. I hope you had a pleasant day?”
“Yes, thank you, Papa,” Charlotte said breathlessly. “Quite pleasant. Thank you.”
But her mind was out in a shadowed street in some unimaginable horror of dark shapes, sudden pain, choking-and death.
Chapter Two
Emily was excited. This was the kind of day she loved, even more than the day after. Today was the day of dreams, of preparations, of last-minute stitching, of laying out every detail of clean underwear, of washing hair and brushing, of curling irons, and then at the very last minute of all, the delicate, infinitely discreet touches to the face.
Tonight they were going to a formal ball at the house of one Colonel Decker and his wife, and far more to the point, his son and his daughter. Emily had seen them only twice, but had heard delicious stories from Lucy Sandelson as to their dashing style, their elegance, the flair with which they wore the latest fashions; and yet more intoxicating, the abundance and intimacy of their acquaintances among the wealthy and the aristocratic. Truly this ball gave promise of endless doors which, with a little luck and a little skill, might open onto worlds heretofore only dreamed of.
Sarah was going to wear blue, a soft baby blue which was extremely becoming to her. It flattered her skin, highlighting its delicacy, and caught the colour of her eyes. It was a colour that suited Emily’s warmer tone very well also, complementing her cheeks, darker eyes, and brownish hair with its hazel and gold lights. Still, it would flatter neither of them to wear the same; indeed it would make them look ridiculous and Sarah naturally had first choice.
