Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend

her smile were but a veneer or an artifice. Once I caught her eye at such a moment and later she told me, ‘Thank you, Jane. I told you that I needed a friend who would keep me honest.’
    Our mornings began far earlier than our calls, of course. Charlotte needed little sleep and often I think she slept not at all, judging by the sound of the pianoforte that might reach my room at any hour of the night. And so increasingly I found my day beginning earlier and earlier, and Charlotte soon had me helping in her researches. I learned to peruse the periodicals for those items, from the
outré
to the mundane, that would interest her. She taught me her method of filing these items in her commonplace books as well, and soon we were pinning butterflies together.
    Of course occasionally a candle burnt at both ends will give out and Charlotte would spend days in bed, when it would fall to myself and Mrs Fitzhugh to continue our calls.
    Social obligations consumed the bulk of the morning. We three spent a great deal of time at the Lower Rooms, which Charlotte called the
agora,
circling endlessly and absorbing the gossip of Bath. #
    Naturally we also attended a number of dances and balls, but even these, I soon found, were not opportunities for pleasure but for information. Very quickly that which I had found a great joy became merely work. In reward, however, my social standing improved considerably, for I was the particular friend of Miss House, and I was to be the entrée of many a young man eager to meet her. She flattered their attentions, but never danced more than once with each and never shewed one more favour than another, and I followed her lead.
    In fact I wondered at Charlotte’s disinterest in any particular young man. From our meeting five years previous, I knew her to be older than my own one and twenty years. She had seemed so mature and so sure of herself then that I judged her several years my senior; and the tragedy to which she had alluded only served to deepen her sense of wisdom and worldliness. So naturally I looked upon her as an older sister—albeit one with flawless skin, sparkling eyes, hair the colour of wheat and honey and the bearing of royalty.
    Perhaps her tragedy ill disposed her to thoughts of love. It was a romantic notion and filled me with speculation as to the nature of her tragedy; but her course seemed ill-conceived for a woman approaching five and twenty, or more. However her fortune, her beauty and her nature would ensure that age would never wither her charms. #
    As mentioned, I found our social schedule tedious, even though many a young woman would find it to their liking. It also led to some unpleasantness between Charlotte and myself when I felt ill one evening and begged her go without me.
    ‘But who shall be my accomplice, my dear? Who shall be Pollux to my Castor?’ #
    ‘Please, Charlotte, all eyes are on you. No one shall notice my absence.’
    ‘Nonsense, this will not do. I cannot go without you and I
must
go.’
    ‘I am unwell and should be miserable company,’ I lamented.
    ‘Very well, stay,’ she said. ‘I should hate it to be said that I force anyone to enjoy themselves.’
    She left abruptly and I felt very low that I had failed in my duty, and that night I took a violent fever. I awoke late the next day and found Charlotte sitting beside my bed, looking very tired, but she smiled when she saw me stir.
    ‘You are awake! Oh, Jane, please forgive me. My behaviour was unpardonable. How could I doubt that you would not join me only if you were greatly unwell? I am so sorry, I …’
    I stopped her with a plaintive—and I must admit overly dramatic—cry for water, and I did enjoy the way she hurried to attend to me. In fact, she did not leave my bedside that day and all that week she abandoned her usual routine. The incident left me knowing that beyond doubt my friend cared for me greatly, but that she could also be unkind when things did not go her way.

The Poison Pen Affair
    T he next week I resumed my calls with Charlotte and Mrs Fitzhugh, and the first person upon whom we called was Mrs Ashby, whose daughter had been engaged to the Hon. Frederick Hickham, son of Lord M_. A week later, we received a call in return from Mrs Ashby.
    ‘Miss House, I am sorry I was out when you called,’ Mrs Ashby said to my friend, who then introduced Mrs Fitzhugh and myself. Mrs Ashby was a stout woman of fair complection and hair and I could see that she was probably a great