The Linnet Bird: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

lane, who might have told the Ladies of Righteous Conduct about me. Mae always had a soft spot for my mother and had, more than once, put an arm around my mother’s shoulders and given her a warm shake when Ram had been particularly unkind and my mother was sporting a thick lip or swollen eye. Mae Scat had, six months before my mother died, buried her third husband, had six living children, and swore she’d never let another man touch her in any way. She always said she was blessed with a fortune in having only sons, and the three oldest, strapping lads all of them, brought home the bread and coffee on which they all seemed to exist.
    From the corner of my eye I had seen Mae Scat watching me as I hurried down the lane after Ram. Her thick bare arms—she never wore a shawl, no matter how cold the weather, and her face was always flushed and perspiring—were crossed over her low bosom as her head turned in my direction, and once I heard her exclaim, to no one in particular, “It ain’t right. It just ain’t right.”
    So I assumed, when the well-dressed woman knocked on our door one warm fall evening, that it was Mae Scat who had put her on to us.
    “Are you Linny Munt?”
    I nodded, feeling my heart begin a staccato beat. No one had ever come to our door asking for me before. I was still dressed in my stained clothes from the bookbindery; we’d just finished eating and I hadn’t yet changed for my evening work.
    “I’m Mrs. Poll, from the Society of Ladies of Righteous Conduct. Could I please come in and have a word?” she said, her nostrils tight and her narrow shoulders held stiffly in the dim, smelly passage outside our door.
    I hadn’t opened the door any wider and now looked over my shoulder at Ram to take my cue from him. Sitting on the settle, he stared into the fire as if he hadn’t heard the knock or the low, rhythmic voice.
    When he made no move to object, I swung the door open, stepping back, and the woman entered. She was dressed almost severely, with a navy bonnet and matching poplin spencer over a lighter blue cambric dress, but it was easy for me to see that although the short jacket and dress were plainly cut, they were of superior material. Instead of a reticule, she carried a large gray cloth bag.
    “How are you this fine evening, Linny?” she asked.
    I nodded, twisting my hands in my skirt. I was suddenly afraid, even though her voice was kind. She wore cotton navy gloves, and I thought, for no apparent reason, that she was wise not to wear white ones when she came down to Vauxhall.
    “How old are you? I would venture a guess at ten?”
    “I’ve just passed twelve,” I said. My voice came out as little more than a whisper. I don’t know what I was afraid of, although perhaps I imagined she would carry me off to the children’s section of the workhouse. I had heard terrible stories of the workhouse.
    She looked surprised. “Twelve. Well. I’ve just come to meet you and to bring you some information. Is this your father, then?” She looked behind me at Ram, who still hadn’t moved or spoken.
    I nodded again.
    “Mr. Munt, is it not?” she called.
    Ram answered with a grunt, then rose from the settle. “What’s your business with us, then, since you already appear to know our names? What nosy cow has put you on to us?”
    “I assure you, Mr. Munt, that I am not here to cause trouble. I’m simply checking on the well-being of the children in the area.”
    I let my breath out slowly. It didn’t appear she was here to take me away, then.
    “Well-being? What do you mean by that?” Ram demanded.
    Mrs. Poll licked her lips. I saw that her temples were damp. “Making sure they are keeping well. Inviting them to partake in our Children’s Hour on Sunday afternoons at the church. I have a tract you might enjoy looking at,” she said then, reaching into the cloth bag and pulling out a folded paper. “There are some lovely little drawings I’ll explain.”
    As I reached for the