Page 37 of Falling for a Footman

Charlotte remembered how he had told her when she had first debuted in society and found it difficult to continuously talk to people at parties that he would sometimes simply repeat the last words they had said in a questioning manner. This would usually make them talk more, often about themselves since this was clearly people’s favorite topic, and he would not have to carry that much of the conversation. Charlotte wondered whether it was what he was doing now.

“Yes, a concern,” Charlotte repeated, but did not elaborate, feeling pleased with herself that she had not taken his bait. She did not want to discuss this with him until they were in private.

They did not say anything more until they reached her father’s study. A room with marine blue tapestry on the walls and heavy furniture in mahogany and dark brown leather.

“Now, what is it, Charlotte?” he prodded with a sigh as he sat down behind the desk and opened a binder that was placed on it. His eyes ran over it before he looked at Charlotte.

“Do you know the new footman, James?” she asked, hoping that her voice did not actually shake but that it was just her imagination.

From the look on her father’s face, she could tell that she had his full attention now. His facial expression had not changed much but a slight squinting of his eyes told her his focus had shifted completely from his papers to her. His tone of voice was neutral however as he asked:

“What about him?”

“I don’t know for certain...” Charlotte started and had to stop herself from wringing her hands, “and mind you it is simply a concern... but I think he might... or I think at least you should consider that he might be the thief.”

Her father’s face had a look of astonishment for a moment, then something that Charlotte would otherwise have thought was a look of amusement, certainly the corners of his mouth tipped up slightly and the creases at his eyes deepened a bit. But he quickly schooled his features and leaned back in his chair with an expressionless face. His arms crossed over his chest.

“That is a very grave accusation, Charlotte,” he stated sternly, and his tone of voice reminded her of when he would scold her when she was a child. It had not happened often, probably less than a handful of times had she behaved so badly that he had felt the need to talk to her in that tone, but Charlotte remembered. She felt her shoulders slumping before she caught herself. No, she was right to alert him. She would not cow like a child.

“I merely said that it was a concern. But there definitely is something off about him: he can read – I asked him to fetch a book for me in the library and simply told him the title but not which book it was. I saw him meeting with a rider by the abandoned house the day after Mama’s pearls had been stolen and...” Charlotte bit her lip. Her otherwise sure tone of voice had faulted on that last word.

“And?” her father naturally prodded.

And she had gone through his belongings and found that his letters were franked by the Marquis of Riplingham, and he would avoid talking about himself when she tried to learn anything about him. Of course, she could not tell her father either of those details.

“Nothing else, that is it,” she blurted, still trying to regain her composure and her certain tone of voice.

“Well, I will not fault a member of my staff for their literacy. I do admit that it sounds suspicious that he met up with a rider and I will talk to him about that. There may be a perfectly logical explanation that we don’t know about,” her father told her.

“You will not tell him that it was me that told you, will you?” Charlotte said breathlessly. Happy that he at least to some extent shared her concern.

Her father did not speak for a moment as his dark blue eyes studied her intently. Charlotte tried not to squirm and meet his gaze with an open and pleasant expression.

“No, at the moment I think there will be no need for it,” he assured calmly after what felt like several minutes.

Charlotte smiled, relieved, and tried not to sigh as well.

“I’m glad you did not simply dismiss my notions. It’s not...” She felt herself blush. “It’s not that I have anything to say against his work or his person,” she managed, hoping that she did not sound as breathless as she felt.

“No, I have noticed,” her father said in a dry cryptic tone of voice.

Charlotte looked startled at him for a second, feeling that he had seen right through her. Then she quickly mumbled that she would see him later and retreated swiftly from his study. Hurrying to her room, she frantically waited for Miss Walker to join her and help her put on a dress fit for walking. When she had, she practically ran downstairs to the boot room, put on her boots, bonnet, and a thin overcoat and was out of the door as soon as possible.

She did not wish to be anywhere near the house when her father spoke to James. It felt like going behind his back, even though she should owe him no allegiance when he would not confide in her.