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Chapter 15
Charlotte returned to Louisa’s side after her jaunt through the garden with Jeffrey. Jeffrey wove his way through the crowd towards his friend Peter and his wife. From where she stood, Charlotte watched as Jeffrey leaned in to whisper something into Peter’s ear.
“What happened?” Louisa demanded. “You looked on the edge of tears while you and Jeffrey danced—and then, suddenly, I glanced up, and you were rushing from the ballroom as though someone hunted you.”
“I suppose Jeffrey was hunting me,” Charlotte affirmed. “He chased me all the way to the garden.”
“What on earth?” Louisa’s eyes sparkled. “What happened out there? Unchaperoned and …”
“Don’t worry yourself. Nothing happened,” Charlotte said.
“I thought I was the one who fancied him on that first night. Now, I can see it in you. You like him. Don’t you?”
“Not at all. We’re only going to start helping one another. We must work as a team, as it seems he has a good deal of information surrounding …”
“What’s that?” Louisa blinked wide eyes at her, clearly confused.
Of course. Charlotte hadn’t told her a thing. Not about the mystic, nor about what Jeffrey had said about her guilt, and not even about the letter she’d discovered and given to the investigator. She felt as though she and Louisa now existed on very different planes. She blinked at her friend, trying to drum up a single thing to say that had nothing at all to do with Brooks’ murder. It ate up the majority of her mind.
That moment, she was saved with sight of Margorie, who’d decided to brave the wild world of parties in the wake of her divorce. Both Charlotte and Louisa had witnessed Margorie’s decline over the previous months, listened to her weep into the night, and prayed for her to find a way forward. Now, as they peered through the crowd, they discovered her in the arms of a handsome fellow. His blue eyes twinkled as she spoke to him, and he threw his head back beautifully to laugh.
“Who is that?” Charlotte demanded.
“I don’t know. I hardly recognize my sister,” Louisa said. Her voice simmered with jealousy. “I don’t suppose she’ll be married twice before I’m even allowed a single time?”
“Don’t think of it this way,” Charlotte said. “Your sister is miserable. You still have all the hope in the world.”
“I’ve thought a great deal of what the mystic told me. I have to trust her. She seemed so certain of my future,” Louisa said.
“Yes. I’m sure she’s right,” Charlotte murmured doubtfully.
The song ended. Margorie curtsied before her partner, turned her face towards them, and hurried across the floor. When she reached them, her cheeks burned pink with excitement.
“Who was that!” Charlotte cried.
Margorie placed her hand over her lips and screamed into it. “His name is Harry,” she said when she’d finished. “Can you imagine a more handsome name?”
Louisa shifted her weight. “What is he like?”
“Terribly funny. Eager. Excited to speak with me,” Margorie said. “I haven’t felt this way in years. Even with my ex-husband, when we danced together, it was out of a kind of duty to the concept of marriage. Does this make sense? Perhaps I’m rattling on without any clear comprehension of what I’m saying. Suffice it to say—I’m quite pleased. I can’t decide if I want to dance with him again, or if I want to see what the other men have in store.”
“Quite adventurous,” Charlotte said. “In my mind, the majority of them are absolute rubbish.”
Margorie burst into laughter. She turned round to stand in line with the other two women. She crossed and uncrossed her arms, just as that man, Harry, turned back to look at her. It was clear that they assessed one another from a distance. Again, Louisa grumbled.
“I can’t believe this,” she whispered.
“Just be happy for her,” Charlotte returned.
As Margorie embarked towards the side of the crowd, seemingly with interest to interact once more with Harry, Charlotte made eye contact with Jeffrey.
“He’s watching you again,” Louisa said. “I cannot bear this. I must find a man of my own.”
“Would you like me to suit you up with someone?” Charlotte asked. “I’ve demanded this of you over and over again. It wouldn’t be so difficult. You’re a beautiful woman, with many intelligent things to say. That is, I’m sure you do—I haven’t yet heard them …”
Louisa swatted her playfully. “No. I have to trust the mystic. She said that someone would find me soon. I must keep trying.”
“You aren’t trying if you remain on the sidelines like this,” Charlotte said.
