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Chapter 18
Several days later, Charlotte’s mother again suggested that they meet with the fabric store owner. Charlotte arched her brow in hesitation, then said, “Are you quite sure, Mother? You always seem so dreadfully angry after our meetings with that poor man.”
“Forgive me for being so endlessly forgiving,” her mother said. “I only hope that he’s listened to my advice and found a way forward. It would behove him, his business, and his family if only he …”
Charlotte faded out of the conversation until her mother articulated when, precisely, she wished for the trek to town. At this, Charlotte composed a letter, which she sent to Jeffrey, insinuating that she would once again be near to the fabric store at three in the afternoon the following day. They hadn’t had time to speak since the evening at Peter’s, and she was hungry to know how his quest had been. Had he discovered what this secret eyewitness was all about?
She had to hope.
Charlotte and her mother arrived at the fabric store a few minutes before three. Charlotte walked tenderly into the shop and watched as the poor fabric store owner shrunk like a dying violet at the sight of her mother. Her mother seemed to profit from this. She drew her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and blinked brightly at the man.
“Hello, sir,” she said. “It’s terribly wonderful to see you again.”
“You as well, Lady Stanton. And so soon,” the man returned tightly.
“I don’t suppose you investigated that sort of fabric I discussed with you previously?” her mother continued. “It’s been on my mind, especially in the wake of my nephew’s murder, and I …”
“I think I might have something for you, Lady Stanton.”
If Charlotte wasn’t mistaken, she felt that the man’s eyes reflected their own murderous desires.
As Lady Stanton’s daughter, of course, she wasn’t completely out of tune with such notions. The woman was difficult—and this was just one word for it.
At that moment, there was a sharp sound, akin to a stone cast across a windowpane. Charlotte spun around to spot Jeffrey on the street, his hands on his hips, his eyes focused upon her. Neither the fabric store owner nor her mother had noticed the stone. It had been meant for only Charlotte’s ears.
Charlotte eased into the glorious afternoon and clipped the door closed behind her.
“Your mother’s really taken with this shop, isn’t she?”
“She really can’t get enough of tormenting the owner,” Charlotte said, beaming.
Her eyes could have looked into his every day for the rest of her life.
“I got your letter,” he said as she approached.
“I assumed you did, as you’re here,” Charlotte said.
“I suppose it stands to reason,” Jeffrey said. “Although it could have been a coincidence, as the other times were.”
“You’ve said they were coincidences. I’m still not totally sure I believe you,” Charlotte said.
They now stood no more than a few inches apart from one another. Charlotte felt that, if she’d been a bystander, someone down the street, she would have assumed the two of them were in love.
Perhaps they were.
“You wanted to speak about something,” Jeffrey offered, as though she needed to be reminded.
“Yes.” Charlotte found it far too difficult to focus on the task at-hand. “I wanted to know if you’d had any luck tracking down this apparent eyewitness.”
Jeffrey shook his head sadly. “I’ve had several people investigate this investigator you mentioned. Nobody can get close enough to him to dig into the case. I feel as though we’ve reached a bit of a dead-end.”
“This isn’t what I wanted to hear,” Charlotte murmured.
“I know.” Jeffrey bit his lower lip, then said, “But I haven’t yet given up. You know that.”
“There’s really no reason that you should continue to fight for this,” Charlotte said. Her voice rasped.
“Of course there is. I’ve told you I want to help you. And I will.”
