Lady Lightfingers by Janet Woods Page B

then gave it back again? I wonder what happened to her.’
    My respects to Mr James Kent.
    Yours truly.
    Celia Jane Laws.
    James smiled at her comment. ‘It’s a nicely written letter, and I can understand why she intrigued you, but she has slipped through your fingers now. So much for your study and your address to the Anglican Philanthropic Society; you’ll have to find another subject.’
    â€˜Not entirely, since her writing reveals much.’ Thomas fingered through the book, stopping to read now and again, often giving a faint smile or an occasional, ‘Hmmm,’ or just nodding to himself.
    James raised an eyebrow when Thomas looked up at him and growled. ‘This arrived over a week ago, and Mrs Packer has only just thought to give it to me. I could have done something to help the girl.’
    â€˜You were too sick. Besides, Celia Laws struck me as being a capable young woman with a great deal of independence to her. She reminds me of a cat that always lands on its feet. Had she needed your help, she would have asked for it, or failing that, would have helped herself to it.’ He gave a wry grin, remembering that he’d checked every pocket in his clothing after they had last met. ‘She’s obviously decided not to take up writing, though. I doubt if she’s got the scholarship for it, anyway.’
    â€˜She has enough, and possesses a fine sense of story and a flair for drama that just needs channelling. Her characters are delightfully depicted, almost caricatures. I was looking forward to educating her a little further.’
    â€˜Did she know of your plan?’
    Thomas shook his head. ‘Teaching doesn’t always have to be obvious. Often it’s better if it’s unobtrusive, because the rigid application of a set text can become a chore to the pupil rather than a pleasure. Celia was interested in everything going on around her, and her curiosity will open her to learning for the rest of her life. I wonder where she is now. It’s so cold out and they’ll have nowhere to stay.’
    â€˜On her way to the country, I imagine. Don’t worry, Uncle. You know there is nothing you can do to help, and she said she will write as soon as she’s settled. No doubt she will tell you where she is then, so you’ll have to be patient. Surely, she doesn’t intend to walk all that way?’
    â€˜Mrs Packer said she had her sister in a cart and there was a lad with her. The dear woman gave them some money from the teapot for the train, and had the wit to give the girl a basket of food to take with her. She seems to think they were heading for Dorset.’
    â€˜Mrs Packer’s bark has always been worse than her bite.’
    â€˜James, my boy, do try and stop comparing everyone to animals. I’m quite sure your vocabulary extends beyond the idiom, however apt they are to the situation. You should study zoology perhaps.’
    James grinned widely at him. ‘If you’d been to the Old Bailey lately, you’d realize that it’s practically the same thing. I’ll be interested to see how the prosecution of the felon who killed Mrs Laws proceeds.’
    James attended the trial a week later. The lad was twelve years old. Charged with manslaughter, he was sentenced to death by hanging. He collapsed in the dock, shivering with fright. His family was dead, he said. He’d been cast from his lodging, was starving and had no money. He didn’t mean to kill the woman . . . she’d broken her head on the wall when she fell over.
    It was a tale that the judge had heard many times before. Immune to it, he had no pity to spare. The man made it clear. Hang, the boy would, if he had anything to do with it.
    Luckily there was a higher power. Half of the crimes by the young were committed out of sheer desperation, and without thinking of consequence. Often it was a case of steal for a living, or die of starvation. James consulted