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too.
    ‘So, what’s been planned?’
    Lady Lee paused a moment, looking at the eager faces of the two girls before her. They were so young and Florrie was so lovely. She couldn’t bear to think of that clear skin and those
innocent eyes being ravaged by prison life. She sighed inwardly, telling herself that she couldn’t shoulder the responsibility for others, and yet she did feel an obligation to look after the
welfare of the members of her ‘little band of sisters’, as she referred to the group of women who met regularly under her roof.
    She sat down, clasping her hands in her lap. ‘How are you at breaking windows?’
    Isobel laughed. ‘With a toffee hammer?’ She glanced at Florrie. ‘I think we could manage that, don’t you?’
    Florrie nodded. ‘Is that all you want us to do? Nothing – nothing more?’
    ‘Not at the moment. I suggest you try some of the shops in Knightsbridge. Night-time would be best – when the stores are closed. But there are a couple of things you should remember.
Firstly, no one, no one at all, must be hurt by your actions. We aim only to damage property, not to injure anyone. And secondly,’ she ran her tongue nervously round her lips, ‘you will
run a greater risk of arrest and – and imprisonment than hitherto.’
    The two young women regarded her solemnly. ‘We’re ready for that,’ Florrie said, speaking for them both.

Seven
    Late that night, dressed in dark clothing and with a black veil to cover their faces, the two young women set off. Quietly, they opened the front door and crept out.
    ‘We mustn’t wake Meredith whatever we do,’ Isobel whispered as they closed the door behind them. ‘He’d try to stop us. He thinks it his duty to look after me
– and you too now. Especially as he knows how much Gervase thinks of you.’
    Florrie stopped suddenly halfway down the steps and stared at Isobel through the gloom.
‘Meredith
knows?’
    Isobel paused and looked up at her from two steps below. ‘My dear girl, servants know everything about us. Especially someone like Meredith, who’s been with our family for
centuries
!’
    Florrie giggled. ‘He’s not
that
old!’
    Isobel tried to stifle her laughter. ‘Don’t start me off. Someone will hear.’
    Nervousness made them want to laugh all the more so that they hurried down the steps and along the street, stuffing their black gloved hands into their mouths. At the corner, they paused and
pulled in deep breaths.
    ‘We’ll get ourselves arrested for being drunk and disorderly in the street if we’re not careful. Now, a little decorum wouldn’t come amiss, Miss Maltby, if you
please,’ Isobel tried to say sternly. ‘After all, we’re supposed to be in mourning.’
    Florrie pulled her face straight and walked with her head bowed dutifully, but every so often a stifled giggle welled up inside her and forced its way out.
    ‘Stop it, Florrie. You’ll set me off again. Just concentrate on what we’ve got to do.’
    The thought sobered the girl at once.
    It was the first time Florrie had seen the busy streets in the hours of darkness.
    ‘It’s deserted,’ she said in surprise.
    ‘Not quite. There’s always someone about – even if it’s only a policeman,’ Isobel added, glancing nervously around her. ‘Come on, we’d better get on
with it or we’ll get ourselves arrested for something quite different.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Oh nothing, dear.’ Isobel hid her smile. ‘Right – now this looks a good window to start with. Nice and big. It’ll make a lovely mess. Glass all over the clothes
displayed in the window. You keep a watch out up and down the street while I. . .’
    Isobel stepped towards the huge window, took the little hammer out of her reticule and hit the window. It cracked, but didn’t break. She hit it again and this time the whole pane
shattered, glass flying everywhere. The sound echoed through the still night.
    ‘Are you all right?’ Florrie asked anxiously,