A Wicked Gentleman by Jane Feather Page A

dear, this poor sailor must have been feeling very deprived of some of the comforts of home. The mermaid seems to be engaging in some very friendly activity here.” Her voice trembled with laughter as she showed the paper knife to Aurelia.
    â€œWhat on earth is such an object doing in a spinster’s kitchen?” Aurelia murmured as she examined the cavorting figures. She glanced across at Morecombe and the twins, who maintained a steadfast silence. “I think we should put it back where it came from. I’d hate to have to explain what’s going on to Franny, and you know she’ll ask if she sees it.”
    â€œI’ll keep it in the desk in my room,” Livia said, taking the knife from her. “I think it’s ivory not bone.”
    â€œWell, please keep it away from the children,” Aurelia begged, shaking her head with amusement, as she returned to her preserves.
    The kitchen was beginning to look usable again, Cornelia reflected, but it was still cold. There was a draft coming through the window that was opened at the bottom, and she went across to close it.
    â€œEh, madam, don’t you be shuttin’ that,” Morecombe declared. “Tis fer Lady Sophia’s cat. She needs t’ come in an’ out like. Her ladyship insisted on’t.”
    â€œWell, maybe she did,” Cornelia said firmly. “But I’m still closing it. If the cat wants to come in, she can jump on the sill and let us know.” She was about to slam the window closed when the cat jumped like a shadow from the dank darkness, through the narrow aperture, and into the kitchen.
    â€œToo cold for you? I don’t blame you,” Cornelia said, bending to stroke the cat. “What’s her name, Morecombe?”
    â€œOh, Lady Sophia jest called ’er Puss,” the man responded. “But I tell you straight, ma’am, that window stays open at night. She likes t’ go ahuntin’. ’Tis agin nature to expect a cat t’ stay in at night.”
    â€œWe’ll worry about that later,” Cornelia said pacifically. “She’s in now anyway.” She closed the window firmly and turned her attention to an ancient pottery flour barrel that could be put to good use again. She peered into it with a grimace of disgust. “This flour’s full of weevils.”
    She hefted the barrel and upended it into the sink. Something chinked against the porcelain. “What’s this?” She delicately sifted the flour through her fingers, closing her mind to the wriggling grubs. “Well, would you look at this. This kitchen’s full of surprises.” She held up a thimble. The light from the now-clean window above the sink caught and held a sparkle of silver through the flour dust. She wiped the thimble on a corner of her apron and held it up again. “It’s most unusual. Look at the design.” She chuckled slightly. “It’s fascinating but not as much fun as the engraving on the paper knife.”
    Aurelia and Livia abandoned their china treasury and came over to her. They examined the thimble in turn. “It’s obviously silver, and the design is such an intricate piece of engraving. A very skilled silversmith had a hand in this,” Aurelia commented.
    â€œBut what’s it doing in a flour barrel?” Livia asked.
    â€œWell, the flour’s been in there since the last century, judging by its condition,” Cornelia said, taking the thimble back. “I’d guess some long-ago maid forgot she was wearing it when she delved into the barrel for a cup of flour or something and it just slipped off.”
    â€œIt doesn’t look like something a maid would use,” Livia said doubtfully.
    â€œWell, perhaps the lady of the house was doing some baking of her own,” Cornelia said with a careless shrug. “Anyway, you may as well ask what a lewd paper knife is doing in a box of rejected