Chapter 26
Charlotte had eaten far too much roast dinner and was now half-dozing in her chair within her hiding place in the library.
She had convinced Sarah and Tom to help her painstakingly drag a bookcase across the stone floor, wedging it before a narrow alcove—leaving only the smallest gap through which Charlotte could squeeze.
In front of it, they had strategically positioned a tall chest table topped with a flower vase, which she could pull across the opening once safely inside.
They had checked the arrangement again and again to ensure no one might spot her.
Tom, delighted by the entire affair, had declared it a fortress and played in it for half an hour, much to Charlotte’s and Sarah’s quiet amusement.
Now Charlotte had been sitting upon the small spindly chair for what felt like hours—though it was likely only one—and still there was no sign of Lord Wolverton and his cronies.
Her nerves were in tatters. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap, willing them to stop shaking, which only caused her body to tremble all the more.
Through the narrow sliver in the gap, she had a clear view of the library entrance and the tall windows beyond, beside which several armchairs were set. The perfect place for an evil meeting.
Charlotte also had a plan should they discover her. She would shove the bookcase onto them, flee for the door, and raise the alarm. A small pocketknife remained hidden in her sleeve, just in case.
She checked the time. Nearly ten.
Another few moments... then surely they would arrive. And finally, Charlotte would discover who amongst them belonged to the Odd Fellows.
Her legs began to cramp. She second-guessed herself—had she misheard?
Had the meeting been moved elsewhere? When her right leg went numb, she shifted and stretched it carefully.
A painful rush of pins and needles made her bite her lip to stop herself from crying out.
She briefly considered abandoning her post altogether.
Then she heard the turn of the handle.
She snapped upright, holding her breath.
Footsteps echoed across the stone floor.
Through the narrow gap, she saw Lord Wolverton enter. And behind him—
Lord Stanley.
Disappointed, Charlotte slumped back in her chair as the two gentlemen settled themselves in the armchairs beside the window. Lord Wolverton placed his snuff box upon the table so he might indulge in frequent sniffs of the vile substance.
Charlotte’s backside ached, but she persevered. Leaning forward once more, she strained to hear.
‘Well, Wolverton—what is your outcome? Will the Grand Fellows meet me?’
Wolverton offered a wry smile. ‘I did my best, my friend, but they are not yet convinced of your loyalty. Perhaps you could offer them a gift?’
‘A gift?’ Lord Stanley sounded wary. ‘What sort of gift?’
‘A girl, perhaps... the lovely Miss Lucas? You must be growing tired of her by now?’
Charlotte’s eyes widened. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. Her heart thundered frantically. Were they... bartering her?
A chair scraped violently across the floor. Lord Stanley had risen so abruptly it toppled backwards behind him. In an instant, he lunged at Wolverton, seizing him by the lapels and hauling him bodily to his feet.
‘How dare you?’ His voice shook with fury. ‘If you so much as look at Miss Lucas again, I will kill you. Do you hear me?’
Wolverton raised his hands quickly, his expression tightening. ‘Easy, old friend—I was only jesting. I know she is your favourite. Any girl will do—one of the maids, perhaps.’
Charlotte sat perfectly still, her pulse roaring in her ears.
‘I grow tired of your games,’ Lord Stanley said curtly. ‘Tell them the offer stands. If they want a deal, it will be on my terms. I want an answer before this house party ends. If not, I shall withdraw everything.’
Wolverton gave a strained laugh. ‘No need to fly into a temper. I shall pass it on. I am sure they will agree.’
‘See that you do.’
Lord Stanley released him, turned sharply upon his heel, and strode from the room.
The door slammed behind him.
Was he truly prepared to kill for her?
The thought left Charlotte stunned. More unusual still was the undeniable feeling of safety that, for perhaps the first time in her life, someone wished to protect her. Quietly, a strange warmth unfurled within her.
In the silence that followed, Wolverton waited.
At precisely ten o’clock came the sound of metal grating against stone.
.. followed by footsteps. Not one set—but two.
Charlotte craned her neck, trying desperately to glimpse where they had entered from, but from her position she could not tell.
Somewhere along the wall opposite the library door, she guessed.
‘A bit over the top, isn’t it, gentlemen, using the secret passageway?’ Wolverton sounded amused.
‘One can never be too careful. Lock the door—we do not want interruptions,’ came a gruff reply.
‘Of course.’ Wolverton crossed the room and turned the key in the lock.
Though muffled, Charlotte recognised the voice at once. Hamilton.
So she had guessed correctly after all. Hamilton was an Odd Fellow. There could now be no doubt of it.
‘Did you get it?’ another voice asked.
Lord Boulton.
Charlotte hardly dared to breathe as the two men stepped fully into view.
‘I have it. What are you going to do with his diamond pin?’ Wolverton asked.
‘Give it here,’ said Hamilton.
‘Where’s Falcon?’ Wolverton glanced between them.
‘He could not get away from the other guests,’ Boulton replied.
Falcon. That must be the third Grand Fellow, Charlotte realised.
‘Now what are we going to do about Stanley? What did he say?’ Wolverton asked.
‘Falcon’s orders are to get rid of him, same as before,’ came Hamilton’s dry reply.
Boulton gave a cynical smile. ‘We tried poison—he would not drink. His food is guarded. Even Falcon’s hired men failed. The man is impossible to kill.’
Falcon again... who could he be? Certainly one of the guests—they had practically admitted as much.
Charlotte tried not to make the slightest sound, scarcely even daring to breathe for fear they might hear her.
‘Perhaps we need a different approach,’ Hamilton replied. ‘Any ideas?
‘Why kill him at all?’ Wolverton argued. ‘He could be useful.’
Hamilton laughed outright. ‘You see what I mean, Badger? He has been singing Stanley’s praises for weeks. He has lost his senses.’
Hamilton’s expression hardened. ‘Idiot—he is deceiving you.’
‘The Order comes first—not friendships. You know that,’ Boulton said evenly.
‘Has it occurred to you that I do not wish to do this any more?’ Wolverton’s voice cracked.
Charlotte leaned in for a better view, intrigued by the sudden shift in his manner. Was Lord Wolverton developing a conscience? What had brought about this change? Surely not affection for Lord Stanley.
‘Falcon gave the orders. One way or another, we must rid ourselves of him. The decision is final,’ Hamilton replied coldly.
‘But, Hawk, he could be turned—he could be an asset!’ Wolverton pleaded.
‘That may be, but we cannot trust him. He is unpredictable,’ Boulton replied.
Charlotte shifted slightly, a thought striking her with sudden irritation. Hawk. Badger. Falcon. Even now, they continued addressing one another by coded names.
‘Then keep me out of it. I will not do your dirty work any longer. The boy was not ready—you all knew it. Yet you made me persuade him... and I was the one left to deal with the consequences. I am tired of being your henchman.’
Charlotte’s chest tightened. He was speaking of Matthew Stanley, of course.
‘When you joined us, you accepted the rules,’ Boulton stepped toward him with quiet menace. ‘Disobedience forfeits your life.’
‘Is that so?’ Wolverton said bitterly. ‘After all I have done for the Fellowship... this is my reward?’
‘Keep your voice down,’ Hamilton warned.
‘Or what? I know all your secrets.’ He sneered. ‘I have Frederick’s black book.’
So, Frederick Bainbridge... had he been an Odd Fellow too?
Hamilton gave a short, humourless laugh. ‘So—you concealed the book from us and now mean to threaten us with it? You are playing with fire.’ He stepped closer to Wolverton.
‘We are all friends here,’ Boulton interjected, though strain lurked beneath his civility. ‘It is time you relinquished that black book, Wolf. Where is it?’
‘I think not,’ Wolverton replied. ‘I would rather keep it... as insurance. I wish to leave the Fellowship, gentlemen, and you will oblige me.’
‘How about we release you from the Fellowship, and in exchange you return the book?’ When no immediate answer came, Boulton added with quiet severity, ‘We cannot permit you to leave with it, and you know it.’
‘Very well. I shall hand it over tomorrow—as I depart—unharmed. What say you, gentlemen?’
A glance passed between Hamilton and Boulton—a silent exchange, decisive and chilling.
Charlotte saw it.
Wolverton did not.
They no longer trusted him.
‘We are in agreement then,’ Hamilton said at last, his voice low. ‘We shall release you. I believe you have served your purpose, Wolf. Now you will serve another.’ He lowered his voice further. ‘Falcon gave us additional instructions today... should matters fail to proceed as planned.’
A violent struggle erupted. Furniture crashed across the floor.
‘Do it,’ Boulton ordered sharply.
Charlotte pressed both hands over her mouth. She could not see—but she did not need to. The sounds told her everything.
Wolverton was being murdered.
‘Quick—leave the dagger in him. Put the pin in his hand,’ Boulton hissed.
Horror swept through Charlotte.
They intended to frame Lord Stanley.
‘Search his pockets. He may have the book upon him.’
‘Not here. We shall search his room later. Unlock the door.’
Hamilton moved to comply, looking perfectly calm and unruffled—as though arranging some trivial household inconvenience.
How can he appear so unaffected? Charlotte felt sick.
Then came the faint scrape of metal against stone—the hidden passageway closing once more.