Charlotte Wynthorpe and the Case of the Disappearing Diamonds

9. Fancy Meeting You Here

The newsstand at Paddington Charlotte had raided previously had no other novels by Mr K. Huntley, and Charlotte was obliged to move further into the cacophony of the yawning station hall to try her luck. 

Travellers heading for the Underground hurried past her, staring at their pocket watches or wristlets. Everywhere she looked there seemed to be families with children, businessmen, workers, and then men and women standing in everyone's way, craning their necks to see if the people they were waiting for were coming down the long platforms yet. Charlotte dodged the many, many porters with their carts ferrying luggage and goods to and from the hulking trains spewing steam up into into the iron girders, filling the hall with the stench of hot embers and axel grease. 

Through the bustling crowd, Charlotte spotted another newsstand next to the entrance to the Tea Room. It turned out to be rather better stocked than the one by the entrance and had two from Mr Huntley on hand: The Rat-Chewed Rope andThe Corpse in the Kitchen. Both with even more lurid, sensationalistic covers than Bloody Murder in the Fens. 

If such a thing were possible. 

"How do you look yourself in the mirror every morning, Mr Huntley?" Charlotte mumbled to herself as she flipped through some of the pages, assuring herself the two novels were indeed Inspector Bump cases. Giving the rack one final check to make sure she hadn't missed anything, she stepped forward and placed the books on counter. 

"That'll be two -" 

"Charlotte! What are you doing here?" a male voice cut in. 

Charlotte turned to see Carlton, dressed in boater hat and starched collar, standing not two steps away from her. A flush of red rushed into her cheeks. Had he seen what she was purchasing? She reached for a Vogue magazine and laid it over the novels. 

The attendant looked at Carlton, then at Charlotte, and said, "Five shillings, four pence." 

Charlotte laid eight shillings on the counter,  took up her purchases-- making sure to keep the books out of sight-- and began to walk away with a "I don't believe I'm speaking to you" tossed in Carlton's direction.

"Look, Charlotte, I'm sorry about. . ." Carlton dodged a porter. "I'm sorry about that silly slip I made to the Penderhursts. I was going to ring--"

"Then why didn't you?" Charlotte attempted to keep up a brisk pace, but it was difficult in such a large, milling crowd and she found herself dodging left and right around people.  

"I didn't know if you were still cross with me and I didn't want a row over the blower. Charlotte." Carlton reached out and took her by the arm, tugging on her a little to make her stop. "Charlotte, you mean the world to me. I never should have breathed a word to anyone about our intentions. You know I have only our happiness in mind."  

Charlotte stopped, forcing a family to part and move around them. "Carlton, I like you very much, but you really must stop this marriage nonsense. Marriage is not in my foreseeable future, get that into your onion, will you? I know you care, but you are making me feel as if I cannot breathe and that I cannot abide. If you ever want me to speak to you again, then remove the words marriage and engagement out of your conversation this very instant. I would not advise you to quarrel with me on this topic."  

Carlton looked for all the world as if he'd just been slapped twice across the chops with a very fat and oily fish. "Oh. Right. Well. I suppose."

"You'd better do more than suppose." Charlotte stepped away. Carlton kept on her heels. 

"I can't see you home, I'm here with the motor to fetch my aunt and uncle. They're coming down from Oxford for the weekend. But say, Brent and Phillipa Montjoy are throwing a party this Friday at their home in Knightsbridge. What do you say we go? Hm? Have a bit of fun."