Page 57 of Lady Charlotte and the Lending Library
The lady raised her chin. “I did not visit Mr. Landry. I’m not that reckless. I did, however, have a short conversation with Mr. Jacobsen whilst in the company of Louisa and Edith.”
Charlotte took his arm without further comment. Both she and Edith remained calm, quite the opposite of how society expected young women to behave when faced with a possibly unpleasant situation.
Their small party exited the shop. A black town carriage Ashford recognized was parked a few yards down the street. Knowing it for Charlotte’s father’s coach, he deposited the ladies inside the carriage and saw them on their way.
He looked across the road to see two men watching Thorne’s. The men wore the garb of dockworkers: open coats with filthy white shirts and dark suspenders underneath, caps pulled low around their ears.
Ashford directed his coachman to return home. He then crossed the road, and as he approached the men, they turned to walk down the pavement toward Bruton Lane.
He shadowed the men, not bothering to disguise the fact he was following them. The time for delicacy was well past. The pair paused at the corner of the street, waiting on the coach traffic to allow them to cross.
When the men reached Bruton Lane, they turned left onto the street and broke into a run. His greatcoat flapping about him, his walking stick in hand, Ashford gave chase. Nearby pedestrians moved aside to stand gawking at the three men running along the pavement.
One of the men pushed aside a young maid as he ran, and Ashford paused only a moment to ascertain that the woman was unharmed. Ahead of him, a small crowd was milling around outside a tavern. The two men pushed through the group, clearing the way for Ashford to follow.
The lane veered sharply to the left before he caught up to the men. He put out a hand to collar one before the scoundrel could dart into an alley between a tobacconist and a Turkish coffee house. The man struggled in his grip as Ashford dropped his walking stick and grasped one of the man’s arms so he couldn’t shrug off his coat and escape.
Ashford whispered menacingly, “I would not resist if I were you. Fighting with a peer will get you several years in goal.”
The man stopped struggling. He spat out, “I’m not going to talk to you.”
“I think you will,” he replied, turning the man to face him. “I have several witnesses that will testify that you were attempting to intimidate them in the lending library.”
The man’s foul breath drifted to him when he replied, “He will kill me if I tell you anything.”
“He will probably have you killed either way,” Ashford responded with a growl.
At those words, the man began to struggle again and broke free. He was only a few steps from Ashford when a shot rang out, and the man fell to the ground. Ashford looked up and saw the man’s companion across the road, a pistol in his hand. A wagon trundled down the road. When the wagon had passed, the killer was gone.
Several passersby gathered around him and the man lying on the ground. Ashford bent down and pulled aside one lapel of the man’s wool coat. Blood seeped from the man’s chest, an ever-widening stain on an already soiled shirt. The man lay facing up, his eyes wide and staring. Several voices raised the alarm as a cold rain began to fall.
* * * * *
Something in Lord Ashford’s tone of voice convinced Charlotte it was necessary to leave Thorne’s as soon as possible. There was no use speculating on the reason why. Not for the first time, she was thankful neither she nor her friends were susceptible to hysterics.
Lord Ashford’s comment about Cheapside had caught her off guard. Mr. Jacobsen’s clerk must have overheard Edith say Charlotte’s name, and the landlord told James Landry about her visit.
“That insufferable man! Lord Ashford is determined to think the worst of me.”
Edith replied softly from her seat across from Charlotte in the carriage, “It speaks volumes that you are more concerned about the marquess’s opinion of you than being warned away from the library. Instead of concentrating on the fact that Lord Ashford wishes to protect you, you are determined to think the worst of him.”
Charlotte was sure Edith was wrong about Lord Ashford wanting to protect her. He simply wanted to control her behavior as he tried to manage his sister’s.
“I’ve told myself a hundred times that I don’t care what others think of me. It doesn’t matter what I feel for Lord Ashford. I must be accepted for who I am.” She took a breath and let it out.
“You’re being far too defensive,” Edith replied with a shake of her head. “Can you honestly say you’ve never judged someone wrongly? And despite recent events, you do not normally act in such a reckless manner. You care what Lord Ashford thinks of you because you feel affection for him. Either speak with him on the matter or let it go.”
Charlotte was at a loss for words. It was unlike Edith to make such a long speech on personal matters. And her friend was right- she did feel affection for the marquess. She hadn’t given much thought to her future. Her parents weren’t urging her to marry. What did she want in a husband? A vision of Lord Ashford came to mind.
The carriage halted in front of Edith’s abode.
“I will let you know if I have news of Thorne’s,” Charlotte called to her friend as Edith alighted from the coach.
When she returned home, Charlotte dashed off a short letter telling Louisa to avoid Thorne’s and that she would send more news when she had some.
Before she went up to dress for dinner that evening, William pulled her aside in the drawing room. “I just received a note from Lord Ashford. We are not to venture near Thorne’s Lending Library until he tells us it is safe to do so.”
“May I see the note?” she asked, for the moment ignoring Lord Ashford’s high-handedness in commanding her to stay away from the library.
