Execution Dock - Anne Perry [107]
“I'll ask my daughter,” Mrs. Myers said quietly. “I doubt she'll know, but it is the best place to try.
“Thank you,” Hester accepted immediately. “I would be very grateful indeed.”
“What year would that be?” Mrs. Myers inquired, turning to lead them through bare, clean corridors, sharp with the smell of lye and carbolic.
“About 1810, the best calculation I can make,” Hester answered. “But I am going on memory of neighbors of the family.”
“I will do what I can,” Mrs. Myers replied dubiously, her heels clicking sharply on the hard wooden floors. Maids with mops and buckets redoubled their efforts to look busy. A pale-faced woman hobbled out of sight around a corner. Two children with straggling hair and tearstained faces peeped around a doorway, staring as Mrs. Myers, followed by Hester and Scuff, striding past without looking to either side.
They found Stella in a warm room facing the sun, sharing a large, enamel pot of tea with three other young women, all dressed in what looked like a simple uniform of gray blouse and skirt, and short black boots. All of their boots were dirty and worn lopsidedly at the heels. It was one of the younger women who stood up to lift the heavy pot and refill all the cups, while Stella remained seated.
Hester assumed that was the privilege of being the matron's daughter until they were level with the table and she saw that Stella was blind. She turned at the sound of unfamiliar footsteps, but she did not speak or rise.
Mrs. Myers introduced Hester without mentioning Scuff, and explained what she had come for.
Stella considered for several moments, her head raised as if she were staring at the ceiling.
“I don't know,” she said at last. “I can't think of anyone who would remember that far back.”
“We have our people the right age,” her mother prompted.
“Do we? I can't think who,” Stella said very quickly.
Mrs. Myers smiled but Hester saw a sadness in it that for a moment was almost overwhelming.
“Mr. Woods might recall …”
“Mina, he barely remembers his name,” Stella cut in, her voice gentle but very definite. “He gets terribly confused.”
Mrs. Myers stood quite still. “Mrs. Cordwainer?” she suggested.
There seemed to be a complete silence in the room. No one moved.
“I don't know her well enough to ask her such things,” Stella replied huskily. “She's very … old. She might …” She did not finish the sentence.
“Perhaps,” Mrs. Myers conceded. She appeared to hesitate, then came to a decision. “I will leave Mrs. Monk to talk with you. You may be able to think of something else. Excuse me.” And she walked away, gathering speed, and they could hear her footsteps fading away.
Hester looked at Stella, wondering if the blind girl were aware of her scrutiny. Did she read voices as other people read expressions on a face?
“Miss Myers,” Hester began. “It really is of very great importance to several other people, as well as to me. I did not tell your mother the full extent of how much this matters. If I can find her, she may be able to clear away certain suspicions I believe to be urgent, but without her help I cannot prove it. If there is anyone at all you can think of to ask, I have no other source left to try.”
Stella turned towards her, her brow puckered. She was clearly struggling with some decision she found intensely difficult. There was pity