***
The curfew had been lifted and the capital started buzzing with activity. The headmistress sat in her carriage, approaching a*****e in the lower town.
She was angry and in haste to deal with that little Wickshire girl. How dare she disrespect her in that manner? The maid, Taylor, had gone to bed and disappeared the next morning. The half written letter on her bed was a spit on the headmistress' face. She knew this was the work of Lady Wickshire; a lazily done work at that. It was as though the lady wanted her to know that she had done it. She sneered at the thought. A warning? For her? She had no intention of taking such an insult sitting down.
The last time, the little lady's nanny insulted her so publicly. Mothers started to tell their husbands who had power in court, to close do
