***
Charlotte and Sarah travelled through London’s streets in their carriage, looking out at the passers-by and the bright summer day unfolding before them.
Charlotte yearned to return to the country, with the rolling English hills around her, sitting on the bench in the sunshine, writing her journal. London was an exciting place to be, with new sights and sounds everywhere she looked, but as she observed the muddled and disordered streets surrounding her, the idea of a quiet library seemed all the more inviting.
It seemed to her that since she had entered the city, her chest had always been flurrying with agitation. She was anxious as they arrived at the Norwells, and that anxiety did not retreat even after they had been greeted by their hosts.
Lady Victoria Norwell was impossibly elegant, as ever, in a dress perfectly matched to the parlour they were led into. The room was mainly decorated in pale tones, with dark wooden furniture and several vases of flowers peppered about the room. The resulting odour was cloying.
Charlotte glanced at her faithful companion, who had never coped well with the advancement of the seasons, only to find her eyes watering excessively as she attempted to stem the flow of her nose with a handkerchief.
They were seated on a large white sofa in front of some high windows that looked out onto a pleasant courtyard below. Lady Norwell and Lady Lavinia Norwell sat down opposite them. They appeared to Charlotte as twins might be, looking identical save for the advancement in years of the mother. Their expressions, too, were the same and had an odd quality where their smiles did not reach their eyes.
“It is such a pleasure to have you with us this morning,” Lady Norwell said expressively. She poured Charlotte and Sarah a cup of tea as Sarah sniffed discreetly behind her kerchief. Some beautiful cakes had been laid out for them to enjoy, and Charlotte took one politely, reminded of how fortunate they were to have such a skilled cook, especially when the sponge was exceedingly dry.
“Thank you for the invitation,” Charlotte said, placing the cake hurriedly on her saucer and looking to Lady Norwell. “Are you in town for the remainder of the season?”
“Indeed we are. Lavinia’s father will return at the end of August at which point we will travel to Derbyshire for the autumn.” Both ladies took a sip of their tea simultaneously. “And you, Lady Wentworth? Are you returned to us for the season?”
Charlotte nodded, trying to ignore the strange phrasing of the question.
“I am, yes.”
“I was so surprised to see you in London,” Lavinia cut in. “I had thought that you might return next season once you were out of mourning.”
There was an awkward pause, and then Lady Norwell leaned forward in her chair. “We were so terribly sorry to hear of your mother’s passing.”
Charlotte’s fingers tightened on the handle of her cup. “Thank you, Lady Norwell.”
“Did you care for your mother for a long period, Lady Wentworth?”
Lavinia seemed to be one of those people who could not absorb the atmosphere of a room particularly well. The tension that had arisen at the mention of her mother should, to Charlotte’s mind, have encouraged a change in topic. Instead, Lavinia’s eyes were gleaming with interest, and Charlotte’s heart sank at the idea of speaking of her mother. She had not grown accustomed to it and tended to avoid the topic for fear of weeping. She swallowed as Sarah moved slightly closer to her on the settee.
“Indeed. Almost three years.”
“Oh!” Lavinia cried, high-pitched and loud in the quiet room. “You must have made many sacrifices to care for her for such a length of time. How old were you when she fell ill?”
“Sixteen.”
“My goodness. Just a child. I am in awe of you, Lady Wentworth.” Lavinia placed down her cup, clutching her hand to her breast in the most ludicrous fashion. “I would never have thought anyone so selfless. So many in this world would not do as you have done. It is of great merit to your character.”
“Indeed.” Her mother said quickly, interjecting before Lavinia could extol Charlotte’s virtues anymore. “You are quite right, my dear. Lady Wentworth is to be much commended. How did you find your first ball following your return?”
“It must have beenterriblydifficult for you,” Lavinia continued. “I cannot imagine having been so quiet and still in the country forsomany years and then to be thrust upon the season? I declare I should have been in a state of nervous disposition for weeks!”
Charlotte eyed Lavinia over the rim of her teacup. Either she was the most artless woman Charlotte had ever met, or she was very clever indeed at pretending she was a simpleton. Charlotte could not decide which it was.
“Thank you for your kindness in asking Lady Norwell. It was an adjustment, I freely admit that, but it was important for me to return before the end of the season. My father was hopeful that coming to town sooner rather than later would allow next season to be less unsettling.”
“Your father is absolutely right. He, too, should be commended for thinking of such things.” Lady Norwell gave her a simpering smile, picking up one of the cakes with her long fingers and chewing on it rather loudly as she smiled at Charlotte.
It was obvious, for the remainder of their visit, that neither lady felt it necessary to speak to or address Sarah at all during the interview. Charlotte was very pleased when they were ableto escape into the confines of their carriage, and she could speak freely about how much she disliked them both.
CHAPTER SIX
Colin’s carriage drew up on the corner of Lombard Street beside an imposing building set back a little from the cobbled road behind him.
Large pillars denoted its status from the other ramshackle offices a few streets away. Colin was reassured that his father’s business partner worked in such an establishment and was hopeful that their meeting would assuage all of his fears.
