Page 42 of An Artful Dodge
“O’courseI don’t think you did this,” she snapped. I didn’t take offense; it was worry that made her sharp.
“What’s going to happen?”
“Well, I filled out an inquiry, and they’ll send for new ones.”
“It was insured, wasn’t it?”
“Aye. But it’s going to take at least another month to get more—and they were dear—Brussels lace, silk, and chiffon. They took a good part o’ my ready money. Not to mention that Mrs. Tompkins will take five pounds of stuffing out o’ me when she hears.”
“Well, it’s not your fault,” I protested. “Tell her she should go down to the warehouse, if she puts up a fuss. Perhaps they’d find it for her.”
“There’s a thought,” she said, with a snort.
Chapter 15
The following morning, after breakfast, I returned to our room to find Mary, home from her visit, sitting up in bed reading a letter. Her jaw was set and her face was pale. The sight drew me to sit on the edge of her bed.
“What’s happened?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“Maggie’s pushing me out of the ring,” she said, her voice low.
A curse slipped from my mouth.
“I don’t understand it.” Mary was never one for blazing fury, but her eyes flashed at the injustice of it. “I’m good at thieving. You and I bring in more money than most, and I’m ready to come back. But some doctor she knows thinks my grief makes me susceptible to nerves. Have you heard the like?”
I shook my head.
“She’s giving me a fortnight to clear out.”
“A fortnight!”
She swallowed. “I wouldn’t mind so much if it was fair, but it isn’t!”
“No, it’s bloody not.” I gestured to her lap. “What’s that?”
“A letter from my aunt. I was afraid this might happen, from the way Maggie acted the day she took me out, so I wrote to see if I might stay with her, if I needed to.”
Dismay sank my heart. “Your aunt Jane? In Reading?”
She flapped the page. “What with my cousin getting married and having a baby, they don’t have room.”
“Well, I’m not sorry. I don’t want you to leave London,” I said. She managed a smile, and I leaned to squeeze her hand. “We’ll figure out something. And we’ve money put by. We can find you a place.”
“It’s good of you, but it doesn’t solve the problem.” Mary dropped her head back against the wall. “What am I going to do, Kit? All I know is thieving—and how to bake a decent loaf of bread.”
“Perhaps Mrs. Jonas can use you more than a day or two a week.”
“She can’t,” Mary replied. “I asked.”
“Well, there are other bakeries,” I said.
“I know.” Her mouth twisted. “I don’t want to fret you. I’ll find something.”
A knock sounded at the door, and Mary slid the letter under her skirts.
At her nod, I called, “Come in!”
The door was pushed open, and Bea’s face appeared around the edge, her gaze shifting between Mary and me. “Maggie wants to see you.”
