Jane Slayre by Sherri Browning Erwin

but add nothing and exaggerate nothing."
    I resolved, in the depth of my heart, that I would be most moderate--most correct without revealing the complete truth of the Reeds' conditions. Having reflected a few minutes to arrange coherently what I had to say, I told her nearly all the story of my sad childhood. Exhausted by emotion, I used language more subdued than it generally was in my repeating the tale of my upbringing. Thus restrained and simplified, without any mention of vampyres, it sounded more credible. I felt as I went on that Miss Temple fully believed me.
    I mentioned Mr. Lloyd's coming to see me after what I described as an attack by John Reed that resulted in a knock of the head and not the biting of my neck. I did not spare Mrs. Reed the mercy of leaving off that she'd left me to potentially bleed to death in the red room, though I did not mention the ghostly visitation of my uncle and the path he'd tasked me to follow.
    "I know something of Mr. Lloyd," Miss Temple said, after regarding me some moments in silence once I'd finished. "I shall write to him; if his reply agrees with your statement, you shall be publicly cleared from every imputation. To me, Jane, you are clear now."
    She kissed my cheek and still kept me at her side. I was a child unused to affection, and I liked Miss Temple showing me some care. She then addressed Helen Burns.
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    "How are you tonight, Helen? Have you coughed much today?"
    "Not quite so much, I think, ma'am."
    "And the pain in your chest?"
    "It is a little better."
    Miss Temple got up, took Helen's hand, examined her pulse, then returned to her seat. As she resumed it, I heard her sigh low. She was pensive a few minutes before rousing herself cheerfully.
    "But you two are my visitors tonight. I must treat you as such." She rang her bell.
    "Barbara," she said to the servant who answered it, "I have not yet had tea. Bring the tray and place cups for these two young ladies."
    When the tray arrived, I delighted in the sight. How pretty, to my eyes, did the china cups and bright teapot look, placed on the little round table near the fire! How fragrant was the steam of the beverage, and the scent of the toast! Tonight was for celebration, not accusations.
    "Barbara," Miss Temple called her servant back. "Can you not bring a little more bread and butter? There is not enough for three."
    Barbara went out, but she returned soon. "Madam, Mrs. Harden says she has sent up the usual quantity."
    Mrs. Harden, be it observed, was the housekeeper, a woman after Mr. Bokorhurst's own heart, made up of equal parts of whalebone and iron. Perhaps literally. She might have been held together by such.
    "Oh, very well!" returned Miss Temple. "We must make it do, Barbara, I suppose." As the girl withdrew, Miss Temple added, smiling, "Fortunately, I have it in my power to supply deficiencies for this once."
    Having invited Helen and me to approach the table, she placed before each of us a cup of tea with one delicious but thin morsel of toast. She got up, unlocked a drawer, and, taking from it a parcel wrapped in paper, disclosed presently to our eyes a good-size seed-cake.
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    "I meant to give each of you some of this to take with you, but as there is so little toast, you must have it now." She cut slices with a generous hand.
    We feasted that evening as on nectar and ambrosia, and not the least delight of the entertainment was our hostess's smile of gratification as we satisfied our famished appetites on the delicate fare she liberally supplied. Miss Temple and Helen conversed on so many things, books I'd never heard of, world events, and languages unknown. Helen recited some Latin as well as any true scholar, I supposed.
    "Miss Temple, I must ask why you have a sword in your room?" I said at length as the evening drew to a close.
    "It is a fine saber, is it not? My father was a swordsman," Miss Temple said, taking the weapon down. The blade was safely ensconced in a sheath. "A pirate on the Barbary