“What is it, Mama?” Charlotte asked a little sharply. “Why does this locket matter so much?”
Caroline looked down at her hands, avoiding Charlotte’s eyes.
“I had a memento in it—of—of a quite personal nature. I should feel most—embarrassed if it should fall into anyone else’s hands. A sentimental thing. I’m sure you can understand. It is not knowing who has it! Like having someone else read your letters.”
Charlotte breathed out in relief. She did not know now what she had been afraid of, but suddenly her muscles relaxed and she felt a wave of warmth ripple through her. It was all so easy, now that she understood.
“For goodness’ sake, why didn’t you say so to begin with?” There was no point in suggesting the thief might not open it. The first thing any woman would do on finding a locket would be to look inside. “Perhaps that day you forgot to do up the safety clasp, and it really did fall off? I suppose you’ve looked thoroughly in the carriage?”
“Oh yes, I did that immediately.”
“When do you last remember it?”
“I went to an afternoon party at Ambrosine’s—Ambrosine Charrington. She lives at number eighteen, a most charming person.” Caroline smiled fleetingly. “You would like her. She is quite markedly eccentric.”
Charlotte ignored the implication. At the moment the locket was more important.
“Indeed!” she said dryly. “In what way?”
Caroline looked up in surprise.
“Oh, she’s perfectly respectable—in fact, more than respectable. Her grandfather was an earl, and her husband, Lovell Charrington, is a most notable man. Ambrosine herself was presented at Court when she came out. Of course, that was a long time ago, but she still has many connections.”
“That doesn’t sound very eccentric,” Charlotte said skeptically, thinking that Caroline’s view of eccentricity was probably quite different from her own.
“She likes to sing,” Caroline explained. “And some of the oddest songs. I cannot imagine where she learned them. And she is extremely forgetful, even of things one would have thought any woman in Society would remember—such as who called in the last week or so, and who is related to whom. She sometimes makes quite startling mistakes.”
Charlotte warmed to her immediately.
“Good for her. That must be most entertaining.” She remembered endless afternoons before she was married when Caroline had taken her three daughters to meet the mothers of suitable young men, and they had all sat in overstuffed chairs drinking lukewarm tea, sizing each other up with regard to income, dress sense, complexion, and agreeability, while the girls wondered which callow young man they would be introduced to next, and which iron-eyed prospective mother-in-law would inspect them. She shivered at the recollection and thought of Pitt in his linoleum-floor office with its brown desk and files of papers; Pitt stalking in and out of alleys and tenements after forgers and dealers in stolen goods, and just occasionally walking the smarter streets after a safebreaker, or embezzler, or even a killer.
“Charlotte?” Caroline’s voice recalled her to Rutland Place and the warm withdrawing room.
“Yes, Mama. Perhaps it would be better if you said nothing at all. After all, if it was stolen, the thief is hardly going to admit it, and anyone decent enough to return it to you would not have looked at what they would know is personal. And even if they did, they would not find it remarkable. After all, we all have private matters.”
Caroline forced a smile, overlooking the fact that the thief would not even know it was hers without some natural investigation, which would be bound to include opening it to see the inscription.
“No, of course not.” She stood up. “Now I’m sure it must be nearly time to eat. You look very well, my dear, but you mustn’t neglect your health. Remember, you are eating not only for yourself!”
The meal was delicious and far more delicate than Charlotte would have had at home, where she tended to skimp on midday meals. She ate with enjoyment. Afterward they repaired to the garden for a short breath of air, and in the shelter of the walls it was very pleasant. A little before three o’clock they went back to the withdrawing room, and within half an hour received the first caller of the afternoon.
“Mrs. Spencer-Brown, ma’am,” the parlormaid said formally. “Shall I tell her you are at home?”
“Yes, by all means,” Caroline agreed quickly, then waited a moment until the girl left before she turned to Charlotte. “She lives opposite, at number eleven. Her husband is a terrible bore, but she is very lively. Pretty creature, in her own way—”
The door opened again and the parlormaid ushered in the visitor. She was perhaps thirty-three or thirty-four, very slender with fine features, the longest, most graceful neck Charlotte had ever seen, and fair hair that was swept to the back of her head and piled in the latest fashion. She was dressed in ecru-colored lace.
“My dear Mina, how delightful to see you,” Caroline said as easily as if no thought had troubled her all day. “How opportune you should call.”
Mina turned immediately to Charlotte, her eyes bright.
“I don’t believe you have met my daughter Mrs. Thomas Pitt.” Caroline performed the awaited introductions. “Charlotte, my dear, this is my most excellent neighbor, Mrs. Spencer-Brown.”
How do you do, Mrs. Spencer-Brown.” Charlotte inclined her head a little in something like half a curtsy, and Mina made the same gesture of recognition.
“I have been so interested to meet you,” she said, looking Charlotte up and down, mentally taking note of everything she wore, from her slightly scuffed boots to the sleek styling of her hair, in order to assess the skill or otherwise of her maid, and thus the standard of her whole household. Charlotte was used to such judgments, and she met this one with unflickering coolness.
“How kind of you,” she said, her eyes amused and frank. “I’m sure had I known of you a little more, I should have looked forward to our meeting just as much.” She knew Caroline was regarding her anxiously, trying to get close enough to kick her under her skirts without being observed. Charlotte smiled even more candidly. “How fortunate Mama is to have such an agreeable neighbor. I hope you will stay and take tea with us?”
Mina had had every intention of staying, but was momentarily disconcerted to have the subject mentioned when she was hardly through the door.
“Why—why, thank you, that would be delightful, Mrs. Pitt.” They all sat down, Mina opposite Charlotte where she could face her without appearing to stare. “I haven’t seen you in Rutland Place before. Do you live far away?”
Charlotte was careful not to make Jemima an excuse. People in Mina’s position were not obliged to care for their children themselves; there would be first a wet-nurse, then a child’s nurse, then at five or six a nanny, and finally a governess or a tutor, and thus every possible need would be tended to.
“A little distance,” she said composedly. “But one gets involved with one’s own circle, you know?”
Caroline shut her eyes, and Charlotte heard her give the faintest of sighs.
Mina was temporarily at a loss. The reply had not elicited the information she had expected, nor yet led to another avenue of exploration.
“Yes,” she said. “Naturally.” She took a deep breath, smoothed her skirts, and began again. “Of course we have had the pleasure of meeting your sister Lady Ashworth—a most charming person.”
The implication was being made, very delicately, that if someone of Emily’s social distinction could find the time, then Charlotte certainly ought to.
“I’m sure she must have enjoyed it.” Charlotte knew quite well that Emily would have been bored to tears, but Emily had always been skilled at hiding her feelings; in fact, she seemed to have the entire family’s share of tactfulness.