Page 82 of Unmasking the Diamond
Sally’s eyes narrowed. “This is a mistake,” she said bluntly. “You know nothing of servitude. And what happens when someone recognizes you?”
“No one pays any heed to servants,” Charlotte countered. “I shall walk to Lord Matthew’s townhouse, ask my questions, and return before anyone notices my absence.”
Sally’s brows drew together. “And if Lord Alcott hears of this escapade?”
Charlotte lifted her chin. “My brother will understand.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Sally pressed.
“Then I shall beg forgiveness later.” Charlotte softened her tone. “Please, Sally. If Lady Matthew truly is imprisoned in that place, she hasn’t time for us to be cautious.”
Sally’s expression faltered, and she sighed heavily. “Very well, but I still say this is madness.”
“Duly noted,” Charlotte said, already pulling her hairpins free.
A short while later, Charlotte stood before the looking glass hardly recognizing herself. Gone were her muslin gown and fashionable curls. In their place, she wore a plain gray dress with a white apron, her hair scraped into a modest chignon. She tucked a few gold coins into her pocket for good measure.
Mary eyed her warily. “Shall we go, Miss?”
Charlotte drew a breath, her heart pounding. “Let us get this over with.”
They slipped down the corridor and descended the narrow servants’ staircase. The scent of baking bread greeted them as they entered the kitchen, where Miss Wendover, the cook, turned at once.
“Good heavens, Miss!” she exclaimed. “Why are you dressed in such a fashion?”
“Pretend you didn’t see me,” Charlotte said quickly, crossing to the back door.
“Where are you going?”
Charlotte opened the door, a wry smile on her lips. “Trust me—it is better if you do not know.”
Mary followed her out into the courtyard. “It is not too late to stop this madness,” she murmured.
“It will be fine,” Charlotte said—though her voice trembled more than she liked. This wasn’t about propriety. It was about saving a woman’s life.
They walked briskly along the pavement. Mary cast Charlotte a sidelong glance. “Lower your head and keep your eyes on the ground.”
“How will I see where I am going?”
Mary huffed. “Servants don’t see. They endure. Imagine you carry a heavy weight that must never be dropped.”
Charlotte obeyed, lowering her head. The world looked different from this vantage—grayer, smaller, and somehow lonelier.
“How is your family?” she asked.
“They’re alive,” Mary said after a moment. “That’s something, these days.”
“I’m sorry.”
Mary shook her head. “Don’t be. Everyone has burdens to carry, do they not?”
Before long, they reached a red brick townhouse lined by an iron gate gleaming in the morning light. Charlotte instinctivelystarted towards the grand front entrance, but Mary caught her sleeve.
“Servants don’t use the main door. We go around back,” she whispered.
“Ah. Yes, of course.”
They wound their way around to a narrow courtyard. Mary knocked, and after a moment, the door opened to reveal a blonde-haired maid, her hair pulled back into a tight chignon.
