“No need to stand on ceremony,” he said, sitting down on one end of the bench. “Please, carry on. What are you making?”
“Handkerchiefs,” she replied. “I have none, you see, and they are terribly dear to buy.”
“Especially if you have no money, and have promised not to steal anything while in my employ,” Percival commented bluntly.
Miss Bentley sat back down and took another stitch or two before looking up. “Just so, My Lord.”
“Where did the fabric come from?” Percival asked. He felt a bit like an ogre for asking, but considering how she had come to them, he thought it necessary.
“Mrs. Twitchel was ragging out some sheets. There were several of them, and she divided them among the maids and other female staff members. Although the centers were very well worn, there was plenty of fabric in the edges to use for handkerchiefs or even pillow slips.”
“Very well, that makes sense.”
“And I should thank you,” the young cook said quickly, “for the nice gown I am wearing. It was in the poor box. Grace and Mrs. Twitchel helped alter it so that it would fit.”
“No thanks necessary,” Percival assured her. “I am glad there was something there that you could use. Certainly, you could not continue to wear the clothing you arrived in.”
“So true,” she affirmed, then flashed a roguish smile at him. “Although it might have been interesting to see what would happen when I turned up at church in boy’s clothing.”
Percival guffawed, then sobered, although a twinkle remained in his eye. “I am glad you did not. I fear it would have given Parson Rollins a severe attack of apoplexy. He is not very flexible in his thinking, I fear.”
“My Lord! Should you speak so of him?” Miss Bentley kept her voice serious and respectful, but there was an answering twinkle in her eye.
“Perhaps not, although it is no more than truth. With that said, he is a good man and a good shepherd to his flock. Your gown came from his poor box since we have no one of similar size.”
“Then I will give him the utmost respect. I rather think, although he would not have realized that it was me, that my boy clothing also came from that same box. In truth, I should not make fun of him. His good works are well known.”
“I am glad to hear that,” Percival said, pleased to know that the Parson was fulfilling that portion of his office.
They sat in silence for a few moments, and the young woman continued to stitch on the handkerchief. Percival admired how the needle flashed in and out of the cloth, leaving behind it a neat row of stitches.
“Tell me a little about what it was like to be on the streets, Miss Bentley. Was it hard?”
She frowned for a moment, as if trying to order her thoughts. “First off, please call me Tiffany. I left the Bentley name behind when I ran away, and I have no idea what my real name might have been.”
“Why the name Tiffany? It seems unusual.”
Tiffany laughed. “I was delivered to the Poor House orphanage in a wooden box with the words “Tiffany Fruit” burned into the side as if it had been done with a poker. You can see the boxes at nearly any fruit stall or store, all marked in the same way. That seems to have been the only cradle I had.”
“Tell me what you know about your parents.” Percival focused intently on her.
Tiffany shifted uneasily, but answered, “I think I might have told you this already. Father Bentley said that my parents left me with their landlady. They had gotten work at a nearby inn, but a brawl broke out and the inn burned. I was delivered to the orphanage in the fruit crate. Father Bentley saved the items that were in the crate with me, and kept them in his office.”
“Do you still have them?”
Tiffany thought for a moment. “I have an old clasp knife that is designed to be worn on a belt. There was a baby blanket, but it was too bulky to keep, so I sold it and the gown, along with the clothing I wore away from the bakery.”
“Interesting that you kept the knife. Could you show it to me sometime?”
“I could. Right now, if you wish.”
“No, no. Let us continue to enjoy the sunshine. I am beginning to believe that you made a good choice sitting here. The prospect is pleasing, and the wall reflects the sun. In summer, I believe it is covered with vines.”
“I can see that,” Tiffany said, reaching up and releasing a tendril that had caught in the lace on her cap.
“Tell me a little about why you left Bentley Bakery. I know you and Michaels discussed it a little the night you were hired.”
“The night I was caught with the goods, you mean,” Tiffany laughed a little nervously.
