Society to come. But he has not yet fixed upon a day.'
Aunt Jaggers narrowed her eyes. She seemed about to say something, but Kate spoke first. 'The G.F.S.?' she asked. 'Is that some sort of organization?'
Eleanor giggled. 'The group is often referred to as the God-Forsaken Spinsters,' she said. Amelia's back, turned to Kate, seemed to stiffen.
Kate glanced from Eleanor to Amelia and frowned. 'How old must one be to belong to this group?' she asked innocently. Sir Charles cleared his throat, and she caught his glance. His lips were twitching and his brown eyes were wryly amused.
But Eleanor was not amused. 'Oh, not you, my dear Kath-ryn!' she exclaimed, brows arched in horror. 'You could never-'
'Perhaps I'm too old,' Kate persisted. Sir Charles began to cough into his napkin.
Aunt Sabrina laughed. 'The Girls' Friendly Society,' she told Kate, 'is an association of young women in service. Its annual tea is arranged by the vicar and sponsored by several of the ladies of the parish. Many of our girls are away from home for the first time, you see, and-'
'And at loose ends,' Aunt Jaggers put in. 'They should do better to stay in their places and work, rather than gallivanting about, footloose, in gowns and gloves.'
Teasing forgotten, Kate spoke up in protest. 'But surely the servants are permitted to do as they like with their half days, Aunt.'
'I hardly imagine, Niece,' Aunt Jaggers remarked icily, 'that you are sufficiently acquainted with the servant class to have formed a valid opinion.'
Kate bit her tongue. Aunt Sabrina moved in her chair but said nothing. The uncomfortable silence was broken by Mudd's murmured direction to Amelia to replenish the tray of tea cakes.
Across from Kate, Sir Charles sipped his tea. His glance met hers over the rim of the cup, and she was startled to find it appreciative. He put down his cup and inquired, 'Are you enjoying the autumn countryside, Miss Ardleigh? I can recommend the mill and the locks at Flatford, on the Stour. It is not a long walk from here, and quite picturesque.'
'I'm afraid I have been much too busy with my work to gallivant about the countryside,' Kate said. She glanced at Aunt Jaggers. The devil spoke. 'With or without gloves.'
Aunt Jaggers snorted. Aunt Sabrina looked distressed. 'How inconsiderate of me, Kathryn,' she said. 'Really, you must take some time off, if only to see the ruins. You are working much too hard.'
Eleanor's cup rattled. 'Working?' she asked, staring at Kate. 'Why, Kathryn, whatever are you doingT'
'I have come to Bishop's Keep to serve as my aunt's secretary,' Kate said. She displayed her inky cuff ruefully. 'As you see, it can be quite a messy business.'
Eleanor's cornflower-blue eyes widened. 'Your aunt's… secretary! But I thought you were… I mean, I had hoped we could be…'
Kate lifted her chin. Eleanor's voice trailed off before she finished her sentence, but her meaning was clear. She had thought that Kate was a member of the leisure class, just as she was, and that therefore they could be friends. Kate felt a sharp disappointment. But she should not blame Eleanor, who could hardly help being brought up to despise honest work, and to think of it as something done only by her inferiors. She was the one who was at fault. She should never have allowed Eleanor to think that she was something other than what she was.
'I'm sorry if I deceived you, Eleanor,' she said quietly. 'I did not come to Bishop's Keep to be a lady of leisure.' She hesitated, hoping that there might still be a chance for a friendship. ' 'But if you were about to suggest that we go for a walk or a short drive some afternoon, I am sure that Aunt Sabrina would be glad to let me take an hour.'
'Certainly,' Aunt Sabrina said warmly. 'I am only sorry I did not think to suggest it myself. I-'
'Excuse me, mum.' The door had opened to admit Amelia, hesitant, and without the tea cakes. 'There's someone t'see yer, mum, but I misdoubt that-'
'Stop blathering and show them in,' Aunt Jaggers snapped.
Amelia frowned uncertainly. 'But he's a constable, mum.'
Aunt Jaggers's face grew dark. 'Then send him to the kitchen.'
Aunt Sabrina intervened. ' 'Did he say what his errand was, Amelia?''
Amelia's head bobbed. 'He said 'twas news, mum. Important news.'
'Then show him in, please,' Aunt Sabrina said.
In a moment Amelia reappeared. With her was a portly man, balding, with a pockmarked face. His navy serge uniform was grimy, his boots sheened with dust. He held a tall hat under one arm and a newspaper-wrapped parcel under the other. He looked uncertainly from one person to the other, as if unsure whom to address.
Aunt Sabrina relieved him of his uncertainty. 'Good day, sir,' she said. 'I believe you have news, Constable-'
'Clay, mum,' the man said, stepping forward. 'From Chelmsford.' Kate recognized the name of a town that the train had passed through, about thirty miles from London. 'I'm some sorry t'intrude, mum, but I've brought somethin' t'was left f'r yer. I was on me way t' Dedham, y'see, an' thought it best t' bring it t'yer, rather than send it by post, seein' what it was.'
'Something left for me?' Aunt Sabrina frowned. 'How odd. I know no one in Chelmsford.'
The constable shifted his bulk. 'T'be sure, mum,' he mumbled. 'But happen that th' girl bin an' died yesternight 'n th' workhouse, y'see, an' she left-'
'The girl?' Aunt Sabrina spoke sharply. 'What girl?'
The constable frowned. He managed to secure his hat under the same arm that held the parcel, and fished in his pocket, pulling out a soiled scrap of paper. 'Name o' Jenny, 'twere,' he said, reading from it. 'Jenny Blyly.'
Suddenly there was a piercing shriek, the cry of a soul in
torment. All eyes in the room went to Amelia. 'Not Jenny!' she cried. 'Dear God, not Jenny!'
Cook stood in the kitchen, staring down at the opened parcel on the table. 'An' how'd she die?' she asked, her voice a brittle thread.
The constable lifted the mug of hot tea Nettie had given him. 'In th' workhouse,' he said. He looked up. 'Th' babe died afore her.'
Amelia's muffled sobbing could be heard from the corner by the fire. Harriet was huddled beside her knee, trying to comfort her. Pocket stood an uneasy distance away, his face working. Mudd sat at the other end of the table, head bowed.
Cook lifted the ragged dress from the table. That and the green knitted shawl and the worn shoes were all that was in the parcel. 'Nothin' else?' she asked the constable. 'I'm her aunt. I'm who has t' tell her pore mother how she ended.'
He countered her question with one of his own. 'D'you know some un called Tom Potter?''
Amelia's sobbing grew louder. 'I do,' Cook said shortly. 'Why?'
'T'was a note fer him in th' pocket o' th' dress,' the constable said. He fished in his trousers. 'Here 'tis.'
Cook took the crumpled bit of paper from his hand. 'I'll see't he gits it,' she said.
The constable had been gone several minutes before Cook roused herself to smooth out the note. She went to the lamp and held it up so that the poorly penciled script was illuminated by the golden light. Finally, she turned and spoke into the silence.
'Nettie,' she said, 'fetch me shawl. I've an errand.'
Nettie's mouth made a round O. 'But there's the dinner!' she said. 'Mrs. Jaggers'll-'
'Jaggers kin go t' bloody hell,' Cook said fiercely. 'That's where the Lord sends the murderers of pore babes and young girls!'
Mudd lifted his head and spoke. 'An' if th' Lord don't dispatch 'er quick,' he said through clenched teeth, 'I will.'
From the doorway, there was a stifled gasp. Cook looked up to see the startled face of the young Miss Ardleigh.
Aunt Sabrina was not eager to talk about what had happened, but Kate managed to wring a little information out of her that evening, after they finished the cold supper that Nettie and Harriet scraped together in the unexplained absence of Cook. Jenny Blyly, barely nineteen, had been Amelia's predecessor. She had disappeared six months before under circumstances that Aunt Sabrina would not divulge but which seemed to involve Aunt Jaggers.
