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Mary was just then emerging from Charlotte’s room. She kept her face down after seeing Charlotte. Was she embarrassed or had pale-as-bone Mary started wearing blush? If so, she’d put it on like a novice, pinking from cheekbone to jaw.
“I was outside,” said Charlotte, “and I got my dress dirty. Do you think it’s salvageable?”
Mary squatted and examined the stain. “I will try, ma’am, but that pond mud is desperately hard to get out of cloth.”
Hm. “It is pond mud. How did you know?”
Mary stood upright, as startled as a pheasant. “I … I’ve seen that mud on clothes before.”
Other guests must have slipped in mud in the past, Charlotte thought, and Mary may have experience trying to draw the viscous stuff out of cloth. But if it was such a regular occurrence, why did she seem agitated by the question?
Mary helped her change into a new dress, and Charlotte rushed downstairs, the last to arrive for dinner.
“There is our fine summer breeze!” Colonel Andrews said as she entered.
Mrs. Wattlesbrook was on her feet at once and organized everyone into the order of precedence for the walk across the hall and into the dining room. Mr. Mallery took the hostess’s arm, followed by Miss Charming with Colonel Andrews. Charlotte wasn’t sure it was completely Regency appropriate, but Eddie took both Miss Gardenside’s and Charlotte’s arms so no one walked alone.
“If Mr. Wattlesbrook were here, would he escort his wife?” she asked.
“I believe so,” said Eddie.
“Then everyone would have a partner.”
“Now, you do not mind sharing, do you, ladies? Plenty of Grey to go around, I assure you.”
Still, it seemed a slight imperfection to Charlotte, one that a woman like Mrs. Wattlesbrook must detest. If her husband were present, and behaving, he would make all the numbers even.
And Charlotte would be on Mr. Mallery’s arm …
Oh my word! That’s what’s bothering you, her Inner Thoughts accused. You have a crush on Mr. Mallery and want his attention constantly!
I do not, she thought back. That’s silly. He’s just an actor.
Mm-hm, and how often do you watch a movie and get a crush on an actor? Like, all the time?
Charlotte pondered for a moment why her Inner Thoughts tended to sound like a teenage girl.
Fine, that’s true, she thought, but I never expect an actor on the screen to fall in love with me.
That’s your prob, isn’t it, Charlotte? You never expect anything! You’re, like, paying actors a lot of money to make you feel all swoony and romantic, and you still don’t expect it. For a “nice” girl, you’re totally a pessimist.
I am not! I’m optimistic a lot of the time, like when … when …
“Er, Charlotte? Are you all right?” asked Eddie.
“Hm?” She looked up from her empty plate. Everyone else’s was loaded with food, and everyone’s attention was directed at her. Even her Inner Thoughts cringed.
“Fine! Fine. Looks great,” she said, dishing herself some kind of salad. “I keep thinking about your mystery, Colonel Andrews. Maybe you could give us more clues tonight?”
He banged on the table happily. “Yes indeed, Mrs. Cordial, yes indeed. I knew you for a confederate, I did, and I have new entries to add to the story that will tickle your spine and make you cry out in terror for your mummy.”
“Or at least for Mr. Mallery,” Eddie said into his drink.
Charlotte gave him a subtle kick under the table, but he just smiled.
See, even Eddie noticed, said her Inner Thoughts.
After dinner in the drawing room, Colonel Andrews didn’t wait for another invitation. He pulled out his book and began to read more of the housekeeper’s account.
