A flash of cynicism swept across Anne Purcell’s face. But she did not rebuke the woman for her sentimental canting.
“The girl ought to be watched.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“She will not have Betty to sleep with her.”
A sly suggestive smile on the face above hers in the mirror warned her that Mrs. Jael understood her in every detail.
“What were you going to say, Jael? There is no need for us to beat about the bush.”
“There is the little closet, my lady.”
“Yes, next to Mistress Barbara’s room.”
“It used to have a door—leading to the bedroom. But Sir Lionel—poor gentleman—had it filled in.”
“Yes, I remember.”