"You are not," Miss Stonewell snaps at the hapless servant girl, "to bother the young ladies under any circumstances. As you ought to know very well. What is your name?"

The servant girl doesn't look quite as cowed as she should; her eyes dart sideways and back down, and there's a hint of sullen, calculating independence in the lift of her chin. But her voice is appropriately docile when she says, "Becky, mum."

"Hannah shall hear about this," Miss Stonewell says darkly. "You may go about your business." That's less suggestion than order, before she turns her attention back to Mary.