Girl of Shadows by Deborah Challinor

Author:Deborah Challinor [Challinor, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2013-02-21T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Sarah’s bum had gone numb. She stood, stretched, moved to the window and checked her watch again: twenty-five minutes past eleven. Christ, she could have emptied the entire house by now.

But at last she thought she heard something. She opened Mrs Tregoweth’s bedroom door, checked to make sure the servant girl was nowhere in sight and crept down the hallway to the big window overlooking the front of the house. There was nothing there, but she was sure she’d heard a carriage. She hurried back to Mrs Tregoweth’s room and peeked through the window overlooking the back garden.

As she did, light spilt across the rear verandah and a curricle drew up on the carriageway running along one side of the house. A man in a top hat — presumably Mr Tregoweth — climbed out and handed down Mrs Tregoweth. She stumbled and whacked him on the arm. Words were exchanged, though Sarah couldn’t clearly hear them. Mr Tregoweth led the horses towards the stable while his wife stepped up onto the verandah and entered the house.

Sarah padded silently into the dressing room, lay on the floor and rolled under the bottom shelf, shuffling her bum and shoulders hard against the wall. All she had to do now was wait for Mrs Tregoweth to go to sleep, then take the jewellery and leave. Of course, it was rarely that straightforward. Wandering around people’s houses when they weren’t in them was easy; stealing from right beneath their noses was a different matter altogether, and she felt an unpleasant buzz of nervous anticipation ripple through her muscles. But that was all right; only complete idiots didn’t feel fear just before a job.

She heard voices, the door to the bedroom creaked open and someone entered. No, two people. A dim, flickering light leached into the dressing room, then grew brighter as the wall lamps were lit.

‘Tea, thank you, Josie,’ Mrs Tregoweth said. ‘And three of those almond biscuits Mrs Bunyard baked this morning.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

Josie, so that really was her name. Josie Light-Fingers.

Mrs Tregoweth’s feet appeared in the dressing room. The hem of her velvet mantle dipped then disappeared, hung on a hook. One foot eased a satin slipper off the other, the bunioned, silk-stockinged foot vanished from view, followed by the sound of cracking toe knuckles and groaning. Sarah winced. The other slipper came off and was discarded on the floor with its partner.

Mrs Tregoweth left the dressing room and sat on something that protested squeakily. Her bed? The chair at her dressing table? Not much happened for a few minutes, then Sarah heard her cross the room and take the dog painting off the wall. There was the distinctive sound of a key turning in a lock, some shuffling, then the safe was locked again and the painting replaced.

A knock on the door and Josie called, ‘Ma’am? Your tea.’

‘Come in.’

A tray rattled as Josie entered.

‘Help me with my gown, will you?’

Sarah stifled a sigh; Mrs Tregoweth could be buggering about with her toilet all night.

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