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I returned, I saw that she was much improved in spirits and was thanking everyone profusely. But before she left, Charlotte cautioned her.
    ‘One last thing, Mrs Ashby. Immediately inform us if you are aware of any further letters. And under no circumstances are you to inquire about the letters. And I shall need to retain these.’ Charlotte fanned the letters before her.
    Mrs Ashby had been nodding her assent the whole while until the last statement, when she suddenly clutched her reticule to her bosom.
    ‘I have been so afraid to let them out of my sight and yet I was about to leave without giving them a thought. Yes, keep them if need be but I would rather see them burned.’
    ‘Which they will be once they are not needed,’ Charlotte assured her. We saw her to the door and then returned to the drawing-room.
    ‘What do you make of it, Jane?’ Charlotte asked me.
    ‘A terrible tragedy to befall them,’ I said.
    ‘Yes, but what strikes you as relevant? Do you see no inconsistencies?’
    Charlotte looked at me intently and I shifted uncomfortably beneath her gaze. ‘No,’ I said meekly.
    ‘Tchah!’ she said. ‘Think of it, why send letters to the three people most likely not to believe them?’
    ‘But there are other letters!’ Mrs Fitzhugh said.
    Charlotte said nothing and looked at me.
    ‘There aren’t other letters?’ I ventured to ask.
    ‘No, I don’t think there are. Also note the peculiar construction of the letters. Although the accusation is quite clear, there is a reluctance actually to make that accusation. And there are other more obvious reasons why I offered her some hope.’ She saw the confused look on my face and sighed. ‘Why do we go to the assembly rooms? Why do we talk to maids and cooks? Why? To gather information. And even if the daughter has been indiscreet …’
    ‘But,’ I said, ‘her mother most vigorously denied …’
    ‘There is something you must learn, Jane. Everybody lies. They do it as unconsciously as breathing. But as I was saying, even if the daughter has been indiscreet, we have heard no news of it, and it is a very advantageous match. Lord M_’s son? The envy of it should fan the flames of a rumour like this. The fact that we have heard no intimation of it gives me some hope.’
    ‘But then why send the letters at all?’ Mrs Fitzhugh asked.
    ‘Yes, that is a mystery,’ Charlotte confirmed, ‘and it will remain so until we gather more information.’
    I sighed and said, ‘So it is to the market again.’

An Ever-Rotating Wheel of Information
    I earlier recounted that I found our social obligations a burden, but I felt differently on this visit to the Lower Rooms, because this time I was directly employed on someone’s behalf. I began to understand why we visited these rooms again and again.
    We joined the society taking a turn in the large ballroom and whereas before the image of prisoners pacing in their cells came to mind—when in my dark mood—to-day I saw the crowd as an ever-rotating wheel of information, like some vast clockwork mechanism that will reveal its secrets if only the separate gears can be aligned. As usual, we three started as a group but over time we became two parties, alternately sharing Mrs Fitzhugh, so that we might converse with as many people as possible. #
    Of course, we had to be discreet in our enquiries: ‘Mrs Compton, so nice to see you again. We were just speaking of you last night to Mrs Ashby. Why yes, I had heard of the engagement’ Or: ‘It is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of so fine a gentleman as yourself, but stay; are you not a friend of Mr Hickham? I believe him to be recently engaged.’
    These enquiries were repeated again and again, but we heard little detrimental other than envy about Miss Ashby and her family. After we became three again, we even asked our master of ceremonies about the match.
    ‘Ladies, ma’am, a great pleasure as always,’ he said. ‘And it is good to see you well, Miss