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"It's not here," a girl with a pinched face announces in triumph moments later when the ring doesn't turn up.
Miss Moore lets out a long sigh, chews at her bottom lip for a moment. When she speaks, her voice is soft but firm. "Miss Bradshaw, did you take the ring? If you admit it, the penalty will be less severe."
Ann's face has gone splotchy. The stutter returns. "N-n-no, mum. I d-d-didn t-t-take it."
"That's what happens when you let her class into a school like Spence. We'll all be victims of her jealousy," Felicity gloats. The other girls nod. Sheep. I'm stuck in a boarding school filled with sheep.
"That will be quite enough, Miss Worthington." Miss Moore raises an eyebrow. Felicity glares back at her, places a hand on her hip.
"That ring was given to me by my father for my sixteenth birthday. I'm sure he would be most unhappy to hear that it had come to be stolen and no one was doing anything about it." Miss Moore turns to Ann, reaches out a hand. "I'm sorry, Miss Bradshaw, but I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to let me see inside your knitting basket."
Thoroughly miserable, Ann hands over the knitting basket, and suddenly I know exactly what's going on, what's going to happen next. It's a prank. A vicious, nasty prank. Miss Moore will find the ring in there. The incident will be noted in Ann's academic record. And what family would possibly hire a girl as a governess who'd been labeled a thief? The poor, stupid girl is just standing there, ready to accept her fate.
Miss Moore pulls a dazzling blue sapphire from the basket, sad disappointment registering quickly in her eyes before she remembers herself and makes her face a mask of restraint and propriety. "Well, Miss Bradshaw, what do you have to say for yourself?"
A mixture of deep wretchedness and resignation pulls Ann's head and shoulders low. Pippa's mouth broadens into a smile, Felicity's a smirk as they exchange quick glances. I can't help wondering if this is Ann's punishment for talking to me earlier on the way to chapel. Is it a warning to me to watch my step?
"We'd best go see Mrs. Nightwing." Miss Moore takes Ann by the hand to see her executioner. What I should do is go back to the fire and read my book. Every bit of reason in me says I should keep quiet, blend in, side with the winning team. Some days my reason is no match for my temper.
"Ann, darling," I say, copying Pippa's chummy tone from earlier. Everyone seems surprised to hear me speak, no one more surprised than I am at the moment. "Don't be modest. Tell Miss Moore the truth."
Ann's huge eyes search mine for meaning. "The't-t-truth?"
"Yes," I say, hoping I can make this up as I go along. "The truththat Miss Worthington lost her ring tonight during vespers. You found it and put it in your knitting basket for safekeeping."
"Why didn't she return it right away, then?" Felicity steps forward, challenging me, her gray eyes inches from mine.
Tricky, tricky. Make this good, Gem . "She didn't want to embarrass you in front of everyone and make it obvious that you'd been careless with something so valuable, a gift from your father. So she was waiting for a private moment. You know how kindhearted Ann is." A little Perils of Lucy . A little smacking Felicity with her own petulant story about dear old Father. All in all, not bad.
Miss Moore appraises me. There's no telling whether she believes me or not. "Miss Bradshaw, is this true?"
Come on, Ann. Play along. Fight back.
Ann swallows hard, raises her chin to Miss Moore. "Y-y-yes. It is."
Good girl I'm feeling pretty pleased with myself until I lock eyes with Felicity, who is glaring at me with a mix of admiration and hatred. I've won this round, but I know that with girls like Felicity and Pippa there will always be a next time.
"I'm glad that's settled, Miss ?" Miss Moore stares at me.
"Doyle. Gemma Doyle."
"Well, Miss Gemma Doyle, it would seem that we are in your debt. I'm sure Miss Worthington would like to thank you both for retrieving her lost ring, wouldn't you?"
For the second time tonight, Miss Moore surprises me, and I'm almost certain I see a satisfied smile pulling at the corners of her proper British mouth.
"She could have come forward sooner and not frightened us all so," Felicity says by way of thank-you.
"Grace, charm, and beauty, Miss Worthington," Miss Moore admonishes, waving a finger disapprovingly.
Felicity looks like a girl whose lollipop has just landed in the dirt. But then she's all smiles again, the bitterness gone, pushed down deep,
"It would seem that I am in your debt, Gemma," Felicity says. She's goading me by being so informal with my name when I haven't given her leave to do so.
"Not at all, Felicity," I volley back.
"This ring was a gift from my father, Admiral Worthington. Perhaps you've heard of him?"
Half the English-speaking world has heard of Admiral Worthingtona naval hero, decorated by Queen Victoria herself. "No, I can't say that I have," I lie.
