Miss Charity's Case by Jo Ann Ferguson

the ruination of many reputations.”
    Joyce whispered to her sister, “But not Leatrice’s! I daresay she has taken umbrage at his lack of interest.”
    Charity was surprised at Joyce’s defense of Lord Blackburn. Joyce must dislike Leatrice even more than she did the earl.
    Yet a familiar pang of curiosity taunted Charity. Mr. Hoyle had been correct. Lord Blackburn was concealing something.
    â€œThe truth cannot be hidden.” Leatrice’s smile returned as she raised her chin. “Do not be such a complete chucklehead that he destroys both you and your sister.”
    â€œEven you must own,” Charity said, “the earl was a gentleman at the soirée .”
    â€œHe plays his role with finesse. It comes from much practice. He lures victims into his wicked web.” Lowering her voice, she leaned toward them. “Perhaps you have not heard about—”
    Lady Eloise intruded to order, “Leatrice, do assist me.”
    The younger woman reached across the carriage to help the old lady sit straighter. When Lady Eloise jabbed her companion with a sharp elbow, Miss Munson came awake in the middle of a snore. A flush of embarrassment brightened her face.
    â€œYou are disturbing our conversation with your grotesque sounds,” Lady Eloise said as if she had not been asleep herself. “We have arrived at the Manor.”
    The carriage drove past the stone gatehouse and onto the drive that curved along the sloping hill. Trees edged the road, their branches woven together overhead to make a green tunnel. Charity smiled when she saw deer drinking from a pool near a copse. She had been away from the country for such a short time, but she had missed its tranquillity.
    That tranquillity was broken by Leatrice, who seemed incapable of enduring a second of silence. “You shall enjoy the Manor, although the house is incredibly old and not as lovely as the house in Mayfair.”
    Charity did not agree. Tall and narrow, this house looked like an ancient Norman keep. Its gray stones had been weathered through centuries of standing on this low hill. Dozens of windows flashed back the setting sun as if they were winking. It was glorious, and she could not wait to explore every inch of the house and the gardens.
    Trees and flower gardens softened the profile of the house and suggested the beauty to come with summer. Rose bushes were heavy with new growth. The scent filled the carriage. Flowers of every color followed the road and peered from beneath topiary. Half-hidden like a naughty child behind its nurse’s skirts, the low stable inched around one corner of the house. A meadow was dotted by horses.
    Charity was overwhelmed. How hard it must have been for Mama to leave this grandeur! Oh, how she wished she could be loved as Papa and Mama had loved one another. Once she had dared to believe she was in love. Then she had been a fool. She would not make that blunder twice.
    A tall, elderly man at the door ushered them into the grand foyer of the Manor. Unbent by age, he carried a lantern that sent light dancing across the parquet floor with diamond patterns. The glow reflected in the mirrors that filled every wall between the doors and windows. A set of stairs broke in half to climb both walls of the octagonal hall.
    â€œPrentiss,” said Lady Eloise, aiming a frown at Miss Munson who was yawning, “my grandnieces, Miss Charity Stuart and Miss Joyce Stuart, will be helping Miss Hoyle and me prepare the house for closing.”
    The butler bowed in their direction. “Welcome to Graystone Manor.”
    â€œThank you.” Charity drew off her gloves and handed them to a maid who hurried forward. Turning to Prentiss, as Lady Eloise walked toward one of the dozen doors opening into the hall, she added, “Lady Eloise is anxious for tea. I trust that shall be no inconvenience for you.”
    â€œOf course it is no inconvenience, miss.” His stern expression did not