Charlotte cast her a sympathetic glance. ‘Perhaps I ought to speak to Mrs Wilberforce. I am quite certain Mrs Dent is doing this deliberately. Though...’ She paused thoughtfully. ‘Now that you are cleaning the rooms, perhaps you might examine the guest chambers at the same time?’
Sarah shot upright. ‘Oh no. Absolutely not.’ She shook her head with vigorous determination. ‘If I am caught, there will be hell to pay.’
Charlotte seized her by the shoulders.
‘Sarah, think sensibly. The sooner we discover something connecting them to the Odd Fellows, the sooner we may escape this wretched situation.’
‘Your situation,’ Sarah muttered darkly. ‘I am perfectly fine. I am not currently wanted for murder.’
‘Really... Are you quite fine?’ Charlotte retorted, pointing accusingly toward the blister on Sarah’s foot. ‘Look at you, you miscreant. Very well, when I receive my dowry, I shall see you properly provided for.’
Sarah’s expression suggested an internal struggle between conscience and greed.
‘Fine!’ she burst out at last. ‘But I want a cottage for my retirement. With a garden.’
Charlotte pressed her lips together. ‘Now you are being unreasonable...’
Seeing Sarah’s expression harden once more, she relented with a sigh. ‘Very well. A small cottage.’
Thus suitably bribed, Sarah relaxed back against the pillows.
‘What exactly am I to look for?’
Charlotte moved towards the door with a shrug. ‘I do not know. Letters perhaps. Anything bearing a symbol. Something they all have in common.’
She paused mid-step. ‘Oh—wait a moment.’
She crossed to her portmanteau, rummaged briefly within, and withdrew the parchment Matthew Stanley had given her.
‘Look here at this symbol. I believe it may be their emblem.’ She pointed to the rose entwined with a winding vine. ‘If you go whilst we are at dinner, then you will be quite safe.’
Leaving Sarah to examine the parchment, Charlotte hurried out to join the party downstairs, realising she was already late.
Chapter 18
As she entered the already crowded drawing room, she sensed at once that something was amiss. Guests clustered together in low conversations, their whispers faltering whenever she drew near.
Suddenly self-conscious, she approached Miss Underwood.
‘What has happened?’ she asked quietly.
‘Lord Stanley and Mr Wilberforce were stopped by a highwayman this afternoon, who took a shot at Lord Stanley.’
Charlotte gasped. ‘Is he—?’
‘He’s fine. Disarmed the man himself and dragged him clean off the horse. But the rogue escaped into the woods before he could be caught.’
Charlotte stared at her in horror. ‘He pursued him? Alone? What if there had been more of them?’
‘Mrs Wilberforce is furious. She has refused to come downstairs for dinner.’
Charlotte could hardly blame her. How reckless of him to give chase. The incident bore all the marks of another attempt by the Odd Fellows. But how could she warn him without giving herself away?
‘And Mr Wilberforce?’ she asked. ‘Is he unharmed?’
Miss Underwood grimaced faintly. ‘Perfectly unharmed, though badly shaken. He will not be joining us tonight either.’
At that moment, a hush fell across the room. Lord Stanley entered looking entirely uninjured, composed as though nothing at all had occurred. When his gaze settled upon Charlotte, she was startled to see him walk directly towards her.
