Free The Daughters of Gentlemen by Linda Stratmann Page B

that Frances could sometimes be too preoccupied to eat, even when hungry. She ensured that Frances sat at the parlour table and prepared fried eggs and ham, with relish and buttered toast for them both, then sat down to eat, with the unspoken expectation that Frances do the same.
    Frances obediently picked up her knife and fork, and as they ate, told Sarah the full story of what she had found so far, which she realised could be described in précis as: the pamphlet was missing, Matilda was missing, and everyone she spoke to was either hiding secrets or telling lies.
    ‘The thing is,’ said Sarah, thoughtfully, ‘you’ve asked me to be a lady’s companion, and I would like that more than anything, but I’m not really sure what it means. It has to at least mean helping you, doesn’t it?’
    ‘We will make of it what seems best to us,’ said Frances with a smile.
    ‘Well, as it looks like in the new place I won’t have half the work I did before, then I wondered if I could be a sort of detective apprentice. And I could go out and about and do the things you might be too busy for. And if you directed me, then I’d know what questions to ask.’
    Frances felt some of the weight of duty lifted from her shoulders, although none of the anxiety. ‘I can think of nothing I would like better,’ she said. ‘Consider yourself my trusted assistant in all things!’
    ‘Well, first off,’ said Sarah, ‘why not get Tom to look for that maid what’s run off, because if he can’t find her no one can!’
    Tom Smith was a relative of Sarah’s who had been the errand boy at the chemist shop when it was owned by the Doughtys and now worked for Mr Jacobs. With quick feet, sharp eyes, natural cunning and a keen sense of opportunity, he was, at the age of about ten, clearly a lad who would go far in the world. No one better than he knew all the by-ways and alleyways of Bayswater, and he could worm his way into the hearts and confidence of servant girls with an innocent look and a boundless appetite for pastry.
    ‘That’s an excellent idea,’ said Frances. ‘He will be paid for his work, of course.’
    ‘Jam tart and sixpence,’ said Sarah, who knew Tom’s price. ‘And the next thing – only – I expect you’ve already thought of this, but —’
    ‘Yes?’ asked Frances eagerly.
    ‘Well, this pamphlet – do you know if it was done special to be put in the school or is it just one you can go into a bookshop and get?’
    Frances stared at Sarah. ‘Do you know, I had been thinking it must have been printed specially, but you’re right, it might be one that anyone could buy if they knew where to get it.’
    ‘Well then,’ said Sarah, ‘why don’t I go to all the newsagents and booksellers hereabouts and ask if they know about it. I might even find one.’
    ‘That will be your first commission as my assistant,’ said Frances. ‘And see if you or Tom can discover anything more about Matilda Springett than we already know that might help us find her. If I can find Matilda and the pamphlet, then I think I have the answers to everything.’
     

     
    The meal done, Sarah and Frances took the short walk to Westbourne Park Road, where Frances was introduced to Mrs Embleton. Mrs Embleton was a breed of person with whom Frances had never previously been closely acquainted – a lodging-house keeper, and it was her character as much as the rooms which interested Frances. Mrs Embleton, who was a widow of about forty-five, was friendly and obliging without being intrusive, and respectable without any false pretentions to being genteel. She made it clear in the nicest possible way that the apartments were let only to single ladies of good reputation. Gentlemen callers were permitted ‘within reason’. She did not explain what this meant and Frances guessed that if one had to enquire then it would be a sign that the enquirer was not the kind of person Mrs Embleton wished to have in her apartments.
    The house was the property