Page 83 of Unmasking the Diamond
“Mary! What are you doing here?” the young woman asked, startled.
Mary bit her lip. “My friend wishes to ask you a few questions.”
The maid frowned, her eyes darting between them. “What kind of questions?”
Charlotte forced a polite smile. “Might we speak privately?”
The maid stepped aside. “The cook is at the market, and the house is quiet for now. Come in.”
The kitchen was small but tidy, with copper pots gleaming on the wall and the faint aroma of lemon polish lingering in the air. Charlotte sat on the edge of a wooden chair, trying to seem inconspicuous.
“I’ve come about Lady Matthew,” Charlotte began. “Is it true that she is missing?”
The maid stiffened. “Who are you?”
“It’s all right, Martha,” Mary said, interjecting. “My friend only wishes to help. She’s trying to find Lady Matthew.”
Martha’s suspicion deepened. “And how could she possibly do that?”
Charlotte decided it was best to play her hand and hoped that Martha understood. “Because I believe Lord Matthew had her committed—perhaps even with the intent to have her killed.”
Martha’s hand flew to her mouth. “No… surely not.”
“I hope we are wrong,” Charlotte said. “But I fear the evidence suggests otherwise. Please, can you tell me anything—anything at all—about Lady Matthew’s disappearance?”
Martha leaned back in her chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as if weighing what could and could not be spoken. Her gaze darted to the kitchen door before she whispered, “There isn’t much to tell. One day, Lady Matthew was here, and the next… she was gone.”
“Does anyone know where she went?”
Martha shook her head slowly. “No one. Not even her lady’s maid, which is strange indeed. They were quite close. I cannot imagine Lady Matthew leaving without so much as a word.”
“Has anyone questioned Lord Matthew about her disappearance?” Charlotte pressed, watching the other woman’s face carefully.
Martha’s mouth flattened. “No one dares. But…” She hesitated, her cheeks coloring. “He has been enamored with the governess—Miss Talbot. The man has no shame. His advances are bold, and she does little to discourage him. The whole thing is an insult to his wife and is a scandal waiting to happen.”
“Has Lord Matthew ever mentioned The Chelmsford Asylum?”
Martha shifted in her seat. “No… but he did receive a letter from there.”
“A letter? When?” Charlotte asked.
“Yesterday morning,” Martha said, her brow furrowing as she tried to recall. “I remember because I was the one who placed it on his desk with his other post.”
Charlotte leaned forward. “Do you think you could obtain that letter for me?”
Martha’s eyes widened in alarm. “Obtain it? Miss, I could be dismissed without references—ruined!”
Charlotte slipped her hand into her pocket and drew out several gold coins. She set them on the table, the metal clinking softly against the worn wood. “I will give you more once the letter is in my possession.”
Martha stared at the coins, temptation warring with fear. “And if I am dismissed?”
“Then you will have a position at my townhouse,” Charlotte responded.
With a disbelieving laugh, Martha questioned, “Your townhouse?”
“Yes,” Charlotte replied, meeting her gaze squarely. “I am Miss Charlotte Winslow, sister to Lord Alcott, and I give you my word you shall have employment should you desire it.”
Martha turned to Mary, who nodded. “It’s true,” Mary assured softly.
