Read Online The Daughters of Gentlemen by Linda Stratmann - Free Book Online
Authors: Linda Stratmann
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which way to turn, then, with a sudden little lurch of decision, hurried downstairs.
As Mrs Venn greeted her visitor there was a smile playing around her lips, but it was not the kind of smile Frances cared to see. Dignity was obviously required and she braced herself.
‘Good morning Miss Doughty,’ said Mrs Venn genially. ‘You will be pleased to know, as I am, that your work here is complete. We have discovered the culprit. It was the housemaid, Matilda Springett.’
‘Oh,’ said Frances, ‘has she confessed?’
Mrs Venn looked less happy for a moment, then she recovered her air of superiority. ‘As good as. She has run away. Her bed was not slept in last night and she has not appeared for duty this morning. Clearly the result of a guilty conscience.’
‘Only yesterday,’ Frances reminded her, ‘you told me that Matilda has been employed by you since the school opened. If you had any reason to complain of her you did not mention it to me. You obviously regarded her as trustworthy.’
Mrs Venn did not like to be reminded of her earlier statement. ‘I did, until now,’ she said firmly.
The two women looked at each other for a few moments. ‘I expect you have many other duties, as do I,’ said Mrs Venn, rising as if to conduct Frances from the room.
Frances smiled, because while Mrs Venn had assumed that her investigation was ended, she felt suddenly sure that it had only just begun. To Mr Venn’s astonishment, therefore, Frances did not follow her to the door, but remained where she was. The headmistress was understandably unused to her direct orders being resisted, and Frances was in the mood to challenge her.
‘I do have one pressing duty,’ said Frances, ‘and that is to complete my investigations to my own satisfaction. And now I would like to see Matilda’s room. If she has run away she may be in some trouble and there could be some indication there as to where she is.’
Mrs Venn paused, and appeared to be struggling with the good sense of this suggestion. ‘Very well,’ she said at last. ‘Follow me.’
Matilda’s room was on the second storey, small and plainly furnished with a bedstead and washstand and a wooden clothes chest. A small box was underneath the bed. The ashes in the tiny fireplace were as cold as the room. Mrs Venn stood by the doorway, her expression stern and watchful as Frances examined the contents of the chest. She found a plain gown suitable for Sunday best, shoes, a shawl and underlinen, but no coat or bonnet, which suggested that Matilda had gone out wearing her servants’ gown, coat and boots. The apron was folded on the bed and Frances searched the pockets but found nothing. The note she had seen earlier, whatever it was, had gone. She lifted the small box onto the bed and sat beside it. It was unlocked, and, throwing the lid back, Frances found inside a small purse which contained a few copper coins, a nosegay of dried flowers, a letter from Davey assuring Matilda that she would always be his Valentine, and a cheap brooch. Frances felt uncomfortable about rummaging through another person’s possessions but knew that there were times, as in a court of law, when delicacy would not assist justice. In the bottom of the box was a pair of old leather slippers, the soles worn into holes. Frances was wondering if these were a keepsake, as they seemed to have no other use, when she noticed something stuffed into the toe of one slipper – a handkerchief. She pulled it out and, as it opened, a cascade of coins fell out onto the bed. They were gold sovereigns. She looked up at Mrs Venn, who was as astonished as she.
‘And what are Matilda’s wages?’ asked Frances. She picked up the coins and counted them, then piled them neatly on the lid of the box.
Mrs Venn stared at the unexpected hoard. ‘£20 a year, due quarterly. But the money is not paid at that time. Neither servants nor staff are permitted to keep anything of value in their rooms. Wages are placed to
As Mrs Venn greeted her visitor there was a smile playing around her lips, but it was not the kind of smile Frances cared to see. Dignity was obviously required and she braced herself.
‘Good morning Miss Doughty,’ said Mrs Venn genially. ‘You will be pleased to know, as I am, that your work here is complete. We have discovered the culprit. It was the housemaid, Matilda Springett.’
‘Oh,’ said Frances, ‘has she confessed?’
Mrs Venn looked less happy for a moment, then she recovered her air of superiority. ‘As good as. She has run away. Her bed was not slept in last night and she has not appeared for duty this morning. Clearly the result of a guilty conscience.’
‘Only yesterday,’ Frances reminded her, ‘you told me that Matilda has been employed by you since the school opened. If you had any reason to complain of her you did not mention it to me. You obviously regarded her as trustworthy.’
Mrs Venn did not like to be reminded of her earlier statement. ‘I did, until now,’ she said firmly.
The two women looked at each other for a few moments. ‘I expect you have many other duties, as do I,’ said Mrs Venn, rising as if to conduct Frances from the room.
Frances smiled, because while Mrs Venn had assumed that her investigation was ended, she felt suddenly sure that it had only just begun. To Mr Venn’s astonishment, therefore, Frances did not follow her to the door, but remained where she was. The headmistress was understandably unused to her direct orders being resisted, and Frances was in the mood to challenge her.
‘I do have one pressing duty,’ said Frances, ‘and that is to complete my investigations to my own satisfaction. And now I would like to see Matilda’s room. If she has run away she may be in some trouble and there could be some indication there as to where she is.’
Mrs Venn paused, and appeared to be struggling with the good sense of this suggestion. ‘Very well,’ she said at last. ‘Follow me.’
Matilda’s room was on the second storey, small and plainly furnished with a bedstead and washstand and a wooden clothes chest. A small box was underneath the bed. The ashes in the tiny fireplace were as cold as the room. Mrs Venn stood by the doorway, her expression stern and watchful as Frances examined the contents of the chest. She found a plain gown suitable for Sunday best, shoes, a shawl and underlinen, but no coat or bonnet, which suggested that Matilda had gone out wearing her servants’ gown, coat and boots. The apron was folded on the bed and Frances searched the pockets but found nothing. The note she had seen earlier, whatever it was, had gone. She lifted the small box onto the bed and sat beside it. It was unlocked, and, throwing the lid back, Frances found inside a small purse which contained a few copper coins, a nosegay of dried flowers, a letter from Davey assuring Matilda that she would always be his Valentine, and a cheap brooch. Frances felt uncomfortable about rummaging through another person’s possessions but knew that there were times, as in a court of law, when delicacy would not assist justice. In the bottom of the box was a pair of old leather slippers, the soles worn into holes. Frances was wondering if these were a keepsake, as they seemed to have no other use, when she noticed something stuffed into the toe of one slipper – a handkerchief. She pulled it out and, as it opened, a cascade of coins fell out onto the bed. They were gold sovereigns. She looked up at Mrs Venn, who was as astonished as she.
‘And what are Matilda’s wages?’ asked Frances. She picked up the coins and counted them, then piled them neatly on the lid of the box.
Mrs Venn stared at the unexpected hoard. ‘£20 a year, due quarterly. But the money is not paid at that time. Neither servants nor staff are permitted to keep anything of value in their rooms. Wages are placed to
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