Let's Talk of Murder by Joan Smith Page B

“wouldn’t hurt a flea” had not hesitated to cast his own daughter out of the house. “By all means, let us have tea.”
    Fanny pulled a bell chord and a young girl in the familiar gray outfit appeared. This inmate had dark hair and a pale, classically proportioned face that would have been beautiful, but for the harried expression it wore. She looked frightened as she bobbed a curtsey. She didn’t look a day over fifteen. Fanny gave the order, the girl bobbed another curtsey and left without uttering a word.
    “Who is that?” Corinne asked.
    “That’s Beth Kilmer. She’s new here. An orphan, I believe. I don’t know much about her. She doesn’t live in the annex, though she’s not really a commoner.”
    “The annex? What is that?” Corinne asked. Fanny’s last remark suggested the girls from a higher class were segregated from the “common” girls.
    “That’s where we go when we’ve proved to be good workers,” Fanny said, but she said it in a rehearsed way that didn’t change Corinne’s mind. “We’re allowed a little more freedom than the newcomers. We can have a candle until nine o’clock for reading.” She nodded to the Bible she had set aside. “And for sewing, of course. We make all our own uniforms. If you have any gowns you’re through with, milady, it would be kind of you to give them to me.”
    Corinne looked alarmed. “But surely you wouldn’t be allowed to wear them!”
    “Oh no! We have a bazaar at Christmas to raise funds for the Home. We make things to sell,” she said. “Mostly handkerchiefs and tea towels, but with such fine stuff as a lady wears, we could make cushions or perhaps shawls or table runners to sell to the parishioners who come to the sale.”
    Corinne nodded her approval. “I’ll see what I can do.”
    “That’s dashed clever of you, Miss Rowan,  Coffen said, smiling at Fanny as if he were the proud papa of a prodigy. Or worse—as if he were a beau!
    Beth brought the tea and little cakes. As she placed them carefully on the table, Corinne noticed some bruises on her forearms. She also noticed, when she left, that she walked with a slight limp. “What is the matter with her?” she asked Fanny.
    “I believe she fell downstairs yesterday, but she didn’t lose the baby.” Like Fanny, Beth’s condition was not yet apparent.
    They talked about the home while they had their tea. Seeing that Fanny was enjoying the cakes, Coffen restrained his lusty appetite and ate only half of them. Fanny was loud in Doctor Harper’s praise. “Doctor Harper is like a papa to us. Much nicer than Mrs. Bruton,” she added, with a certain sting in her tone that suggested that dame was no favorite with the girls.
    Coffen tried again to learn something about Henry and who his enemies might be, and just what Fanny meant by saying he was “not a nice man,” but she just shook her head firmly.
    She adopted a pious expression and said chidingly, “It’s not nice to gossip, Mr. Pattle.”
    The return of Byron and Prance brought the private talk to a conclusion. Prance darted over to meet Fanny. After one speculative, lingering look at Byron, Fanny saw that Mrs. Bruton was leading him to her alcove and she cast her eyes down demurely.
    “You won’t forget about bringing me your old gowns, milady,” she said to Corinne. “For as I was reading in the Bible just before you came, ‘The Devil finds work for idle hands’.” She spoiled this demure speech by adding, “And a little lace and ribbons would be handy, if you happen to have any you don’t need.”
    “I’m sure I might find something to keep your hands busy,” Corinne said. “Will I be allowed to see you when I come?”
    “Oh yes, milady. I’m in the annex. I’m not allowed to go out, but I can have an occasional visitor. Especially when she’s bringing sewing. I had best go now.” She bobbed a curtsey.
    Before she left, Coffen stopped her for a few words. Corinne didn’t hear what was said, for Prance,