Rutland Place - Anne Perry [4]
“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