Read Online Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend by Jennifer Petkus - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer Petkus
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Charlotte?’ Mrs Fitzhugh asked.
‘She is putting a letter under the door,’ she said. ‘She’s coming back.’
The young lady approached us and despite our concealment it seemed impossible that she could not see us. I could not help but think we were a comical group. But the next few seconds shewed that the night was ill suited to comedy.
Charlotte suddenly stood upright and said, ‘Miss Catherine Winslowe? My name is Charlotte House and you will come with us to explain yourself.’
A sharp cry and a low moan prepared me and I rushed to catch the young woman as she fainted. Fortunately she was very slender and with Mrs Fitzhugh’s help we kept her upright. Apparently I improved with practice.
‘This should do the trick,’ Charlotte said, as she produced a vinaigrette and waved its pungent aroma under Miss Winslowe’s nose. Its effect was immediate and the young woman regained her balance. #
‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘Why do you frighten me so?’
‘Miss Winslowe, you have much to explain. We know you to be the author of poisonous letters directed at Miss Ashby.’
‘Why do you wish them ill?’ I asked.
‘Ill? I do not. I only hope that another will not suffer as I have.’ She gave another low moan and I readied myself to support her again. Charlotte opened the vinaigrette.
‘No, there is no need,’ she said, stopping Charlotte’s hand.
‘We will take you to your home,’ Charlotte said.
‘No, please do not. It would distress my mother.’
‘Then we shall take you to our home and there you can answer our questions.’
—&—
It was a long trip back to our home. Even with our assistance, Miss Winslowe walked slowly and I ached with a desire to ask her further questions, but I knew that she needed rest and something warm in her before she could talk. And despite the knowledge that she threatened the happiness of another, I could not help but feel sympathy for the burden she seemed to carry.
Mary, Alice and Mrs Hutton all awaited us when we returned home.
‘Mary, get some blankets for our guest; and Mrs Hutton, some brandy all round,’ Charlotte ordered. We brought Miss Winslowe into the drawing-room and soon had her wrapped in blankets while Alice stoked the fire already laid for us. Mrs Hutton returned with the brandy.
‘This should warm you,’ Mrs Fitzhugh told Miss Winslowe. After a swallow, the warmth came back to her cheeks and she nodded her thanks. Finally Charlotte thanked our helpers and closed the drawing-room doors after they left. We three sat, Charlotte directly across from our guest, and we drank our brandy, and I realized how cold I was despite our exertion helping Miss Winslowe.
‘Now, Miss Winslowe, perhaps you will tell us what you meant, that you did not mean Miss Ashby ill.’
‘It is for her sake that I wrote those letters, to keep her from danger.’
‘Ah, I began to suspect as much,’ Charlotte said. She leant back in her chair and steepled her fingers before her. ‘And that danger is?’
‘Mr Hickham.’
‘And what has that man done that makes him a danger?’ Charlotte asked in a very cool voice. Mrs Fitzhugh and I exchanged looks and I knew my eyes were as wide as hers.
‘He is not a man. He is a monster.’
The sob in Miss Winslowe’s throat stabbed at my heart. Mrs Fitzhugh started to rise to tend to her, but Charlotte’s single raised finger stopped her.
‘You are among friends, Miss Winslowe. Tell us what Mr Hickham has done to you.’
‘He has used me and left me unsuitable for any other.’ Her hand stole to her left breast. We all noticed her movement. All was silent in the room save the crackle of the fire and the distant ticking of the hall clock.
‘Let us see, please,’ Charlotte said, in that tone of command at which I had earlier laughed. Miss Winslowe slowly pushed back the blanket from her shoulder and then pulled back the edge of her bodice. I heard Mrs Fitzhugh gasp as we saw the angry red scar that started at her
‘She is putting a letter under the door,’ she said. ‘She’s coming back.’
The young lady approached us and despite our concealment it seemed impossible that she could not see us. I could not help but think we were a comical group. But the next few seconds shewed that the night was ill suited to comedy.
Charlotte suddenly stood upright and said, ‘Miss Catherine Winslowe? My name is Charlotte House and you will come with us to explain yourself.’
A sharp cry and a low moan prepared me and I rushed to catch the young woman as she fainted. Fortunately she was very slender and with Mrs Fitzhugh’s help we kept her upright. Apparently I improved with practice.
‘This should do the trick,’ Charlotte said, as she produced a vinaigrette and waved its pungent aroma under Miss Winslowe’s nose. Its effect was immediate and the young woman regained her balance. #
‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘Why do you frighten me so?’
‘Miss Winslowe, you have much to explain. We know you to be the author of poisonous letters directed at Miss Ashby.’
‘Why do you wish them ill?’ I asked.
‘Ill? I do not. I only hope that another will not suffer as I have.’ She gave another low moan and I readied myself to support her again. Charlotte opened the vinaigrette.
‘No, there is no need,’ she said, stopping Charlotte’s hand.
‘We will take you to your home,’ Charlotte said.
‘No, please do not. It would distress my mother.’
‘Then we shall take you to our home and there you can answer our questions.’
—&—
It was a long trip back to our home. Even with our assistance, Miss Winslowe walked slowly and I ached with a desire to ask her further questions, but I knew that she needed rest and something warm in her before she could talk. And despite the knowledge that she threatened the happiness of another, I could not help but feel sympathy for the burden she seemed to carry.
Mary, Alice and Mrs Hutton all awaited us when we returned home.
‘Mary, get some blankets for our guest; and Mrs Hutton, some brandy all round,’ Charlotte ordered. We brought Miss Winslowe into the drawing-room and soon had her wrapped in blankets while Alice stoked the fire already laid for us. Mrs Hutton returned with the brandy.
‘This should warm you,’ Mrs Fitzhugh told Miss Winslowe. After a swallow, the warmth came back to her cheeks and she nodded her thanks. Finally Charlotte thanked our helpers and closed the drawing-room doors after they left. We three sat, Charlotte directly across from our guest, and we drank our brandy, and I realized how cold I was despite our exertion helping Miss Winslowe.
‘Now, Miss Winslowe, perhaps you will tell us what you meant, that you did not mean Miss Ashby ill.’
‘It is for her sake that I wrote those letters, to keep her from danger.’
‘Ah, I began to suspect as much,’ Charlotte said. She leant back in her chair and steepled her fingers before her. ‘And that danger is?’
‘Mr Hickham.’
‘And what has that man done that makes him a danger?’ Charlotte asked in a very cool voice. Mrs Fitzhugh and I exchanged looks and I knew my eyes were as wide as hers.
‘He is not a man. He is a monster.’
The sob in Miss Winslowe’s throat stabbed at my heart. Mrs Fitzhugh started to rise to tend to her, but Charlotte’s single raised finger stopped her.
‘You are among friends, Miss Winslowe. Tell us what Mr Hickham has done to you.’
‘He has used me and left me unsuitable for any other.’ Her hand stole to her left breast. We all noticed her movement. All was silent in the room save the crackle of the fire and the distant ticking of the hall clock.
‘Let us see, please,’ Charlotte said, in that tone of command at which I had earlier laughed. Miss Winslowe slowly pushed back the blanket from her shoulder and then pulled back the edge of her bodice. I heard Mrs Fitzhugh gasp as we saw the angry red scar that started at her
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