Chapter 32
Early the next morning, Mrs Wilberforce had all but driven the gentlemen from the house so they should not interfere with preparations for the ball. They submitted with surprisingly good grace and departed for the hunt soon after breakfast.
Meanwhile, the household bustled with activity. Mrs Wilberforce directed the servants with military efficiency, whilst Holden, the butler, proved perfectly competent in his duties—despite, as Charlotte now knew, secretly being a Bow Street Runner.
Several of her gowns had at last arrived from the modiste, and this morning she wore one of the lady’s newest creations: a peach-coloured silk morning dress.
She was still unaccustomed to the attention she drew.
Indeed, she could not help wondering whether, had she dressed with greater elegance during her debutante years, she might long ago have secured a husband and been spared a vastly different fate.
Only now, seeing herself in flattering cuts and fashionable colours, did she fully comprehend how plain and dowdy she must once have appeared beside other young ladies of society.
As the ladies assembled in the morning room, Charlotte resumed her quiet investigations, disguising them beneath a veil of harmless conversation. She tried Mrs Payne first and quickly gave up after being rebuffed with polite civility.
Her gaze drifted towards Miss Pearson, who sat morosely beside the patio doors overlooking the lake, staring mournfully across the water.
Despite everything, Miss Pearson offered Charlotte a small, gracious smile upon her entrance.
Charlotte returned it, though shame prevented her from approaching further.
Miss Fraser, however, displayed no such civility.
‘Well,’ she remarked brightly, surveying Charlotte from head to toe, ‘your dress is certainly an improvement. Though it is rather unfortunate that you possess no notion whatsoever of how to accessorise. Your ensemble looks sadly incomplete.’
Though her tone dripped with sweetness, Charlotte detected the unmistakable sting of jealousy beneath it.
‘I do my best, Miss Fraser.’
Without encouraging further conversation, instead, Charlotte turned her full attention towards Miss Payne. She seated herself beside her with a cup of tea.
‘I understand your father recently purchased the neighbouring estate,’ Charlotte remarked lightly.
‘One of several,’ Miss Payne replied with obvious pride. ‘Though I believe he much prefers our coastal properties. He settled here chiefly because of his friends.’
‘I had no idea he was so well off. He must have inherited a great deal of it.’
‘Oh no,’ Miss Payne replied at once. ‘Papa says he is a self-made man. His investments in the cotton mills and other overseas ventures have flourished beyond expectation. I have no doubt he will receive a knighthood before long; he speaks of it often.’
She punctuated this declaration by scoffing down another scone.
Charlotte winced slightly at her poor etiquette.
‘I am sure,’ Charlotte said politely, passing her a napkin. ‘Does your father maintain many other investments?’
‘Oh, he owns half the docks in Liverpool. He showed them to me the other day, though there were so many I quite lost count.’
Charlotte’s brows shot up before she could prevent it. A slight exaggeration surely?
If Payne owned so many warehouses, then the Odd Fellows’ operation was vastly larger than she had imagined.
A tightness swelled in her chest.
For a man scarcely forty, he had amassed an astonishing fortune in remarkably few years.
How? Surely not through honest means alone.
Charlotte found herself increasingly convinced that he was the Falcon.
Lady Bainbridge soon joined them, settling into a nearby chair with her tea. She enquired after Charlotte’s ball gown.
‘Oh yes, hopefully it will arrive in time for the ball.’
‘I cannot wait to see you in it. That shimmering silver was most becoming upon you at the modiste.’
Charlotte was grateful for the change of company and found herself increasingly at ease as the morning wore on in Lady Bainbridge’s presence.
They spoke of her family, and Lady Bainbridge confessed she missed hers dearly, expressing a wish to visit them at Michaelmas.
She spoke of her home and siblings with such feeling that Charlotte could not help but pity her situation.
It was plain enough she had made a sacrifice for the sake of her impoverished family.
‘I wonder how you will find married life?’ Lady Bainbridge asked at length.
Charlotte replied carefully. ‘I worry about how my life may change once I marry.’ She attempted a vague tone, though it felt disingenuous knowing the truth would soon be revealed.
‘Oh, my dear,’ Lady Bainbridge said, placing a hand over hers, ‘I am sure you will be happy. Lord Stanley is so young and handsome—and quite in love with you. I should think it will not be at all like most marriages. As you can see, my own was one of convenience.’
‘That is precisely what troubles me,’ Charlotte said, lowering her gaze. ‘Lord Stanley can be rather severe at times.’ She hoped, at least, to temper Lady Bainbridge’s enthusiasm for what she clearly believed to be a fairytale match.
‘Oh, Miss Lucas, compared to Lord Bainbridge he is a delight.’
‘Are you very unhappy?’
She lifted an elegant shoulder. ‘I make do. He has said once I produce an heir,’ she added, placing a hand lightly against her stomach, ‘I am free to do as I please. And, my dear, I intend to.’
Charlotte feigned shock. ‘You have a secret beau?’
Lady Bainbridge leaned in and whispered behind her fan. ‘All I will say is that he is one of the house guests—and I am very happy.’ She positively glowed.
Charlotte gasped, recalling how tenderly Mr Hamilton had looked at her during the picnic. Could it be the feeling was mutual?
‘But would that not displease Lord Bainbridge, should he discover it before you produce an heir?’
‘Oh, Miss Lucas, you will find the ton operates on rather different rules once one is married. Much less restrictive.’ Again, behind her fan, she added, ‘What Lord Bainbridge does not know will not harm him. May I count on your secrecy?’
‘Of course. My lips are sealed.’
Charlotte was beginning to revise her opinion of Lady Bainbridge; perhaps she was not so innocent after all.
Then another troubling thought entered her mind. Did Mr Hamilton and Lady Bainbridge know one another before her marriage?
She might have pressed further, but Lord Bainbridge soon approached, cutting the conversation short. His wife withdrew at once, leaving Charlotte to endure his company.
He had not joined the hunt—he no longer rode due to his age—but he nevertheless offered lengthy opinions on the proper way to sit upon a stallion, particularly in relation to stirrup lengths and saddle construction, and did not hesitate to educate anyone within earshot.
After an arduous half hour of listening, Charlotte was immensely grateful when Mrs Wilberforce arrived in a flurry, looking distinctly harried.
‘Well, these preparations are driving me quite mad.’
Alongside the others, Charlotte promptly offered her assistance, which was gratefully received, and the ladies soon divided the work amongst themselves.
Charlotte took care to partner with Miss Payne and volunteered to oversee the flower arrangements, spending the remainder of the morning—and much of the afternoon—moving through the mansion with her to complete them.
As they worked, Charlotte gently plied her with questions about her childhood and family, and by the third hour Miss Payne had begun volunteering information quite freely.
Charlotte found herself feeling faintly sorry for the girl.
Beneath the boastfulness lay someone rather sheltered and painfully lonely.
She even felt a brief pang of guilt at extracting information from her.
But the feeling was short-lived.
If Mr Payne truly was the Falcon, then this had to be done.
At length, Charlotte carefully steered the conversation back towards Mr Payne’s business affairs.
‘At least you need never worry for your future,’ she remarked lightly whilst arranging pale roses into a crystal vase. ‘It sounds as though your father has provided very handsomely for you and your brother. I daresay you are named amongst the beneficiaries of the family trust.’
Miss Payne brightened at once.
‘Why yes. Papa talks about it often. We have two, you know.’
Charlotte glanced up with feigned curiosity. ‘Pardon? Two of what?’
‘Trusts,’ Miss Payne replied importantly. ‘One is called Payne Holdings. And there is another Papa mentions frequently whenever his friends visit.’
Charlotte’s fingers stilled briefly upon a stem.
‘Oh?’ she said carefully.
Miss Payne narrowed her eyes in concentration.
‘Rose and something... ah—Rose and Thorns Trust!’ Her face brightened suddenly. ‘I remembered because Rose is my middle name.’
Charlotte could almost have kissed her. Miss Payne had just handed her the single most valuable piece of information in the entire investigation.
She struggled to contain her excitement as she and Miss Payne completed the final flower arrangements throughout the mansion.
Rose and Thorns Trust.
The name repeated endlessly in her mind. How strangely fitting it sounded—a name of beauty entwined with cruelty, much like the Odd Fellows themselves and their accursed symbol.
There were no entertainments arranged for the evening, and the gentlemen dined out at the club whilst the ladies retired early and took their meals in their rooms.
But Charlotte could neither rest nor sit still. She paced her bedchamber relentlessly, glancing every few moments towards the ticking clock upon the mantelpiece.
At long last, a gentle knock sounded at the door.
He had come.
‘Where have you been?’ Charlotte demanded the instant she opened it. ‘I have been waiting for the last hour.’