"My ring! What have you done with my ring?" The scarves fly open. Ann backs out with the other girls bearing down on her, Felicity pointing a finger accusingly. "Where is it? Tell me this instant!"
"I d-d-don't have it. I d-d-didn't d-do anything." Ann stumbles over her words and suddenly I realize that part of her flatness, her control, must be an effort to keep from stuttering like this.
"You d-d-didn't? Why d-d-don't I believe you?" Felicity's face is mocking and hateful. "I invite you to sit with us and this is how you repay my kindness? By stealing the ring my father gave to me? I should have expected something like this from a girl like you." We all know what "like you" means. Low-class . Common. Plain, poor, and hopeless. You are what you're born, always and forever. That's the understanding.
An imposing woman with a handsome face sweeps over to the girls. "What's going on?" she asks, stepping between Ann, who is cowering, and Felicity, who looks ready to roast Ann on a spit.
Pippa goes wide-eyed as an ingenue in a bad play. "Oh, Miss Moore! Ann has stolen Felicity's sapphire ring."
Felicity thrusts out her ringless finger as proof and attempts a mournful pout. "I had it earlier and noticed it was missing just after she came in."
It's hardly a convincing performance. The organ-grinder's monkey is a better confidence man, but there's no telling whether or not Miss Moore will be taken in by these two. After all, they have money and position and Ann has none. It's amazing how often you can be right as long as you have those two things working in your favor. I'm ready for Miss Moore to straighten her spine and humiliate Ann in front of everyone by forcing her to admit her shameand calling her all manner of horrible names as well. There's a certain type of spinster lady who takes her amusement by torturing others under the guise of "setting a good example." But Miss Moore surprises me by not taking the bait,
"All right, then, let's have a look around on the floor. Perhaps it fell somewhere. Come on, everyone, let's help Miss Worthington find her ring, shall we?"
Ann stands looking down at her shoes, unable to move or speak, as if she expects to be found guilty. I know I should feel pity for her but I'm still a bit miffed over the way she abandoned me, and an uncharitable part of me thinks she deserves this for trusting them. The others move chairs and peer behind curtains in a halfhearted attempt to find the ring.
"It's not here," a girl with a pinched face announces in triumph moments later when the ring doesn't turn up.
Miss Moore lets out a long sigh, chews at her bottom lip for a moment. When she speaks, her voice is soft but firm. "Miss Bradshaw, did you take the ring? If you admit it, the penalty will be less severe."
Ann's face has gone splotchy. The stutter returns. "N-n-no, mum. I d-d-didn t-t-take it."
"That's what happens when you let her class into a school like Spence. We'll all be victims of her jealousy," Felicity gloats. The other girls nod. Sheep. I'm stuck in a boarding school filled with sheep.
"That will be quite enough, Miss Worthington." Miss Moore raises an eyebrow. Felicity glares back at her, places a hand on her hip.
"That ring was given to me by my father for my sixteenth birthday. I'm sure he would be most unhappy to hear that it had come to be stolen and no one was doing anything about it." Miss Moore turns to Ann, reaches out a hand. "I'm sorry, Miss Bradshaw, but I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to let me see inside your knitting basket."
Thoroughly miserable, Ann hands over the knitting basket, and suddenly I know exactly what's going on, what's going to happen next. It's a prank. A vicious, nasty prank. Miss Moore will find the ring in there. The incident will be noted in Ann's academic record. And what family would possibly hire a girl as a governess who'd been labeled a thief? The poor, stupid girl is just standing there, ready to accept her fate.
Miss Moore pulls a dazzling blue sapphire from the basket, sad disappointment registering quickly in her eyes before she remembers herself and makes her face a mask of restraint and propriety. "Well, Miss Bradshaw, what do you have to say for yourself?"
A mixture of deep wretchedness and resignation pulls Ann's head and shoulders low. Pippa's mouth broadens into a smile, Felicity's a smirk as they exchange quick glances. I can't help wondering if this is Ann's punishment for talking to me earlier on the way to chapel. Is it a warning to me to watch my step?
"We'd best go see Mrs. Nightwing." Miss Moore takes Ann by the hand to see her executioner. What I should do is go back to the fire and read my book. Every bit of reason in me says I should keep quiet, blend in, side with the winning team. Some days my reason is no match for my temper.