Lydia Trent Read Online Free PDF Page B

bobs for
Cook, and I took a shortcut through that bit of copse. To be sure I
wouldn't go such a lonely way of a night, but it was broad daylight
so I thought it no harm. Anyway, this time I seed her a-walking and
talking to a different man. This one was sort of cockney-looking,
with a purple neckerchief and a swagger, like those folks at the
races or the fair who tries to ape the gentry. He had black hair and
a scar on his face – a broken nose too, if I'm any judge, for I
have a brother as used to be a boxer, and has just such a nose.
Anyway, this time I heard them too. 'Something must be done,' she
said, 'You will not fail me?'

    “ Then
he says, 'not if the money's all square – whisht, there's someone
coming' – that were me, like, and the pair of them whisks off
behind the trees.”

    “ Are
you sure it was my stepmother? Could you not be mistaken?”

    “ Well
again I didn't see her face, her being cloaked as before, and having
her back to me all the while, but I seed a corner of her hair as she
was walking – there's none other hereabouts as have that dark
reddish-like hair, and I'd swear to her voice at the assizes, if I
were hung for it, so I would.”

    “ I
do not disbelieve what you though you saw, Bessie, but I find it hard
to reconcile what I know of my stepmother's tastes and habits with
her creeping around talking to strangers. On neither occasion did you
see her face, so it is possible you were mistaken. In any event, I am
sure you see the importance of not mentioning this to anyone else –
whether true or not such a rumour could do much harm to my
stepmother's reputation. Remember she is Miss Adeline's mother.”

    Bessie
was fiercely indignant at the imputation that she might be, in
kitchen parlance, a 'tattle tale'.

    “ Of
course Miss – I would not dream of saying a word that could harm
the poor young lady, angel as she is. Whatever my feelings for my
mistress, I wish I could call down all the blessings of heaven on my
poor master and you two young ladies.”

    “ Thank-you
Bessie. Your loyalty is greatly appreciated by us all. You may go
about your work now.”

    Though
Lydia was somewhat troubled and very much mystified by this account,
she settled the matter by setting it all down as a case of mistaken
identities.

    “ After
all,” she said to herself, “Whatever would take Mamma out into
the woods, or creeping around in the dead of night, let alone having
secret interviews with ruffians? The idea is laughable.”

    She
briefly bethought herself of the occasion when she had indeed found
her stepmother 'creeping around in the dead of night', but quickly
dismissed the recollection with a shrug, and went in search of her
faithful scullery-maid.

    This
youthful person, Millicent Stubbs by name, known to all as 'Maisy',
was a girl of fourteen years of age, though she looked about twelve,
and made one of a family of numerous children, for whose wants a
mother who took in washing and sewing, and went charing and nursing
at all hours, and a father who was unable to work due to an
unfortunate accident several years ago, could barely provide. As soon
as her brothers and sisters were old enough to contribute to the
family's inadequate income, off they went to work. Maisy spent not a
penny of her small wages on herself, her quarterly stipend going
instead to bring comfort to the babes still at home. Lydia found the
dutiful girl wearily engaged in scrubbing a floor.

    “ Leave
that for the time being, Maisy dear.” she said gently. “Come and
sit down for a moment while I speak to you.” and she pulled forward
a chair invitingly.

    Maisy
gratefully took the chair, and looked expectantly at her young
mistress. Lydia was grieved to see the great dark circles around
those still-childish eyes, and the weary droop of those small limbs.

    “ Maisy,
I have been greatly troubled to find you have been endangering your
health and well-being by sitting up half the night, in hope of being
of some service to