“It was a double circle of tiny diamonds, the two strands connected by a ruby. A rather beautiful thing. I was touched that my father had taken such effort over a gift for me.”
As a mere daughter?“Was the bracelet much admired in the village?” Constance asked.
“To be honest, I had not many occasions on which to wear it here.”
“Then who did see it?”
“I wore it to dinner with the Lances at Chettering—that would be the parents of the current Lance crop. The old vicar was there—long before Mr. Raeburn’s day—as was Helen Fernie.”
Miss Fernie again.
“I understand Mavis Cartwright was your mother’s maid. Did you have no personal servant of your own?”
Miss Mortimer’s face seemed to close up. “No, not then. Mavis served both of us. If you want the truth, I did not want her to leave us.”
“It appears to be something of an open secret why she did.”
Miss Mortimer’s chin went up. Her eyes turned arctic. “I won’t have you judge her.”
“I?” said Constance before she could help herself.
“You suspect she stole the bracelet in revenge for being dismissed.”
“Actually, I thought you might have given it to her,” Constance said mildly. “In compensation for her being dismissed.”
Miss Mortimer blinked rapidly, then gave a crooked smile. “She would not take it. Because my father had given it to me. I gave her a little box instead. She had always admired it.”
“Then you always knew who the father of her child was?”
“Everyone knew,” Miss Mortimer said wryly. “One cannot keep secrets in Sutton May. There is no point in judging my father, either. Even I gave up on that. He had been brought up to think he could take what he liked, and he never saw his infidelities as betraying my mother. Nor even ruining girls like Mavis. A little money and a few presents over the years and his conscience was perfectly clear.”
“Do you still see Mavis? Or Alice?”
“That would not, alas, be proper.”
Constance could not tell if she was serious. “Who does visit Mavis?”
“The vicar, of course. A few of the charitable ladies.”
“Like Miss Fernie?” Constance asked.
“I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Miss Jenson snorted. “As if poor Mavis has not suffered enough!”
“You don’t care for Miss Fernie?” Constance said quickly.
“No, I do not,” Miss Jenson retorted. “She has all the compassion of a-a fish!”
“Yet she visits a woman spurned by much of the village,” Constance said, “and she has not been sent a letter to remind her to be kind.”
“You really think that is the main purpose of the letters?” Miss Mortimer asked.
“Yes, I think it is. The letters say nothing about old sins, so far as we can judge, only about odd instances of mistake or temper…”
Miss Mortimer shook her head. “I really cannot see Helen’s sending letters in such a way.”
“Oh, I don’t believe she sent the letters,” Constance said. “I did wonder if the two thingsmightbe connected, but…” She stood abruptly. “I need to go home and think.”
