The Scandalous Sisterhood of Prickwillow Place by Julie Berry

none of my affair.”
    “Mrs. Plackett worried about her brother’s safety,” Kitty went on, “but Mr. Godding declared that he’d give no sway to cowardice or womanly fears. He would not shirk his family duty to his dead brother’s only living son.”
    Amanda Barnes blew her nose with great emotion. “Well, that’s very good of him,” she said, “even if it is uncommon sudden.” She tucked her handkerchief back into her pocket, and pushed the proffered money back toward Smooth Kitty. “I won’t take money from Mrs. Plackett like this without working to earn it,” she said. “You know how she is with her economies. If she paid me now for no labor, I’ll wager she’d regret it later. I’ll just tiptoe inside and make up some soup, and some tea, for Mrs. Plackett. She’ll want nourishment eventually, and I can tidy up as quiet as a ghost.”
    Barnes started toward Smooth Kitty as if determined to march straight through her. Kitty blocked her move with a forward thrust of the money.
    “ Dear Barnes! You are too, too good, and far too generous of heart. But I must insist, I really must. Mrs. Plackett herself was quite vehement. She says you deserve a bit of holiday.”
    “She said that?”
    Kitty gulped. Considering Mrs. Plackett’s usual demeanor toward her hired help, perhaps she was stretching belief too far.
    “We girls can tend to all that’s needful today. We shall keep a quiet vigil in the parlor, studying our lesson books and remembering our headmistress, her brother, and her … nephew in our prayers.”
    Smooth Kitty bowed her head in a touching display of pious concern. Stout Alice followed suit, counting heartbeats and waiting for Barnes to leave , for the love of heaven. But still the daily woman hesitated. Never had a tenacious work ethic proved so irritating.
    Finally Barnes curtseyed in acquiescence. “Well enough, Miss Katherine,” she said. “If Mrs. Plackett insists, I’ll take my holiday. But first let me just nip inside for a pan of mine I left here last week. I need it for a recipe for my poor mother.”
    “Tell me what it looks like, and I’ll get it for you,” Alice exclaimed, too eagerly.
    Barnes cocked her head to one side. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you girls were trying to keep me out of the house,” she said. “Remember, I was a girl once myself. You’re not up to any mischief while your headmistress is unwell, are you?”
    “None in the slightest!” Stout Alice exclaimed.
    “Really, Barnes.” Smooth Kitty looked quietly affronted. “At a time like this, what an insinuation.”
    Amanda Barnes bowed her head. “I apologize. There I go again, not thinking before I speak. Oh! And here’s another thing I didn’t think of.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a large, thick, folded hank of cloth. “Mrs. Rumsey asked me to bring this to you. It’s three yards of linen for your strawberry social tablecloth.”
    Smooth Kitty reached for the fabric. It felt silky beneath her hands. “Thank you, Miss Barnes. We’ll have to make hasty work of it, but we shall do our best. Good morning to you.”
    Amanda turned to leave, then halted. “Is there hope the young nephew will recover?”
    “Precious little,” Kitty replied. “He’s said to be a weakly child. His constitution is feeble.” She sniffed tragically. “We fear the worst. Poor Mrs. Plackett.”
    There was an awful pause. They waited. Barnes’s shoes were rooted to the gravel of Saint Etheldreda’s driveway. Stout Alice could see no end to this terrible impasse. She began to understand why her grandmother complained so often about dealing with hired help.
    “Yoo-hoooo!”
    A voice came bellowing from down the road, approaching Saint Etheldreda’s at a rapid clip.
    “Yoo-hoooo, I say! Alice! Kitty! Look what I’ve found!”
    The shock of surprise zipping up Kitty’s spine was positively electric. It was little Pocked Louise, dragging—or being dragged by—something on a string,