Page 24 of Tamed By a Duke
"And I am borrowing Ethel," she had added, for Bianca's benefit, though her sister was so absorbed with the reading of sheet music, that she had merely mumbled something unintelligible in reply.
Bianca was thoroughly distracted by thoughts of her morning lesson with Mr Dubarry and unfortunately—or fortuitously—Helga was also distracted, attempting to remove a large wine stain from a white-muslin day dress.
"I did not know that you drank wine," she had grumbled, when Charlotte had handed her the offending item.
"Well, I shan't be drinking it ever again," Charlotte had trilled in reply, as she tried to quell a blush, "Oh, I know you will be able to mend it Helga, there is no one better than you for the task."
The Swedish woman had swelled with pride at Charlotte's praise, and had bustled off to find some lye with which she might tackle the dreadful stain.
Feeling rather guilty for her deception, Charlotte had rushed to find Ethel to ready her to leave. Helga truly was the best woman for the job, so much so that Charlotte feared the lady's maid might have the stain removed before Charlotte had a chance to make her escape.
Once safely ensconced in the carriage, Charlotte let out a sigh of relief; the first part of her plan had gone smoothly, now she just needed to convince Ethel to follow along—though she did not think it would be difficult.
"Oh, dear," Charlotte thwacked a palm theatrically against her forehead, "I have just recalled that Violet is not at home this morning. Perhaps we might go shopping instead, Ethel?"
"Oh, very good," the lady's maid had replied with a smile.
That was easy, Charlotte thought, though guilt niggled her at her deception. Ethel's sweet, honest nature made her rather easy to deceive, and Charlotte hated to exploit her goodness.
It is all for a worthy cause, Charlotte assured herself, as the carriage trundled through London's streets toward The Strand. Though how worthy other people—specifically her grandmother—would think her cause was debatable.
Rundell and Bridge were one of London's most prestigious jewellers, who served as goldsmiths to the crown. Located on Ludgate Hill, the shop was a treasure trove of fine jewellery and gems, and was frequented by some of the wealthiest members of thebon ton.
Whilst firstly famous for their exquisite jewels, Rundell and Bridge were also famous for the discretion of Mr John Bridge. Members of the aristocracy who required access to funds quickly, could be assured of the goldsmith's complete silence and fair prices, should they decide to pawn some of the family heirlooms.
Charlotte, who had met with Mr Bridge numerous times over the past two years, still felt a fritter of nerves when she entered the shop.
"Good morning, Madame," a voice called in greeting, as a bell above the door tinkled, announcing Charlotte's arrival.
A young man, so well dressed that he verged on dandyism, rushed forth from behind the counter to welcome Charlotte, who tried not to grimace with dismay. Where was Mr Bridge?
"Good morning," she replied, adopting a tone of great hauteur, for the young man now wore a flirtatious smile which she found galling, "I wish to speak with Mr Bridge, is he in?"
A raised eyebrow was quickly lowered, but not so quickly that Charlotte did not catch it. His eyes quickly flicked to Charlotte's left hand, before meeting her eyes with a slight, almost indiscernible smirk. Charlotte tried not to frown in annoyance at the young man's impertinence; would he behave in the same way if she were a man?
"Of course, madame," the shop-assistant replied, in a conspiratorial whisper, "Would you care to wait inside his office? Mr Bridge is attending to another customer in the display room, he shall be along shortly. Whom shall I say is waiting?"
"Miss Drew," Charlotte replied shortly, though she accepted his offer to retreat to Mr Bridge's office. She did not wish to be spotted dawdling in the shop, lest someone sighted her and informed her grandmother where she had been.
Charlotte and Ethel followed the pompous youth into Mr Bridge's office, where they waited for a quarter of an hour, until the proprietor arrived with a flurry of apologies.
"I am sorry for keeping you waiting," Mr Bridge said, as he mopped his bald pate with a handkerchief, "I was attending to a gentleman who was most particular in his requirements."
"Please, it was no trouble," Charlotte replied, for she had spent her time perusing the books on the shelves which lined the wall, "I have something I would like to ask of you, Mr Bridge. Ethel, dear, could you go fetch my shawl from the carriage?"
Once the lady's maid had left the room, Charlotte hastily withdrew a ruby pendant from her reticule to show to Mr Bridge.
"It's a very fine piece," she stammered.
"Indeed it is. I said the same thing to your father when he bought it from me, not two months ago," came Mr Bridge's amused reply.
Charlotte flushed; she hoped that the goldsmith did not think her ungrateful to her father for his generous gifts. Though she hoped even more that he would not press her any more on the matter.
Thankfully, Mr Bridge had a reputation of great discretion to uphold, and he did not push the matter any further. Instead, he offered Charlotte a price which was far greater than she had hoped for, counted the coins into a bag, and handed them to her, all before Ethel reappeared.
"My thanks, Mr Bridge," Charlotte said effusively, as she made to take her leave.
"Take care, Miss Drew," he replied with a note of concern, a kind smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
