Free The Daughters of Gentlemen by Linda Stratmann

enquiring.
    ‘She’s a good girl,’ declared Mrs Springett, bringing the tea things to the table on a tray. ‘She never gave me any trouble. And if there’s things she has done in the past which she regrets, well, we all make mistakes when we are young, and she never meant to hurt anyone.’
    ‘When did you last see Matilda?’ asked Frances.
    ‘On Sunday, at church. She comes here every Sunday and then afterwards she walks out a while with Davey – he’s her intended. He lodges here.’ Mrs Springett poured the tea and then sat down, her eyes full of questions.
    ‘That was five days ago,’ said Frances. ‘Have you heard from her since then – received a note from her, or sent her one?’
    ‘No.’ There was a sharp, nervous gasp. ‘Miss Doughty – what has happened? What has she done?’
    ‘I’m not sure,’ said Frances. ‘It may be nothing. She was at the school yesterday as usual during the day, but it seems that she went out at night and has not yet returned. I saw her with a note and wondered if she had an appointment.’
    Mrs Springett lowered her cup, the tea untasted. Her hands began to shake. ‘I don’t know. She didn’t come here.’
    ‘Can you think of somewhere she might have gone? She has a brother who lives here, doesn’t she? Perhaps he knows where she is.’
    ‘Yes – Jem. But he’s said nothing to me about Tilda, and nor has Davey.’
    ‘Is there family elsewhere that she might have gone to visit?’
    Mrs Springett shook her head. ‘None hereabouts.’
    ‘I understand she has a child,’ said Frances gently.
    Mrs Springett took some time to stare at the table and rubbed her hand over its surface back and forth as if trying to smooth out the grain of the wood. ‘That is true,’ she said at last. ‘A little girl.’
    ‘Is she here?’ asked Frances, but she could see no signs of a child in the house, and wondered if the girl had been one of the little group playing outside, although none had looked the right age.
    Mrs Springett shook her head. ‘At school,’ she said at last.
    ‘Is she a boarder or a day scholar? Might Matilda have gone to see her?’
    ‘She won’t have gone there,’ said Mrs Springett, quickly.
    ‘Can you be sure of that?’
    She nodded. ‘Yes. Very sure.’
    Frances hesitated and chose her words carefully. ‘Mrs Springett, we had a curious incident at the school recently. Quite harmless – someone playing a prank – some pamphlets were put in the girls’ desks. I was asked to find out who did it, and several people have said that it might have been Matilda. If she thought that we suspected her she might have been afraid and run away to hide. I would like to find Matilda; not to blame her or cause her any disquiet, but because Mrs Venn has a high regard for her and is concerned for her safety. If you should happen to hear from your daughter, please could you ask her to write to Mrs Venn and reassure her that she is safe? I am sure that if she was to return the matter could be resolved quite easily.’
    A great many contrasting emotions were passing across Mrs Springett’s face, but Frances’ comments appeared to have calmed her initial anxiety. ‘Yes – I will. Pamphlets, you say? What kind of pamphlets are they?’
    ‘I have not seen them but I have been told they were a discourse addressed to young women on the subject of marriage,’ said Frances, deliberately avoiding further description so as to judge Mrs Springett’s response. ‘Have you seen any such pamphlets in Matilda’s possession? Has she ever mentioned them to you?’
    Mrs Springett shook her head. ‘I suppose someone might have given her something on the subject as she is due to be married soon, but I have not seen one.’
    ‘I expect Matilda is looking forward to the wedding,’ said Frances, now confident that Mrs Springett had not seen any pamphlets. ‘When is that to be?’
    ‘In April. There’ll be lodgings coming free in Moscow Road, and they’ll live there.