Mercy’s neck pricked with the realization that in all the weeks she’d known Ann, she’d never once seen her wearing a necklace. Where could Ann have gotten it, if not by stealing? Of course, Ann was as good a pickpocket as any on London’s streets, at least according to all her boasting and the stories she told of her many misdeeds.

“I swear it,” Ann said to Mercy as though sensing her thoughts. “I didn’t steal the necklace. Not this one.”

The problem was, Ann was about as good at lying as she was stealing.

“I found it when I was emptying one of the pots overboard,” Ann explained. “Figured I couldn’t throw a thing like this away.”

From the horror and disbelief widening the eyes of the middle-class ladies, Mercy guessed they’d never before fished a halfpenny out of the waste in a kennel or gutter. ’Twould be nothing at all to take a piece of jewelry out of a dirty chamber pot. Mercy would have done it herself without a second thought.

But keep the jewel for herself? No. Not here aboard the ship.

“You stole it right out of my cabin,” the woman said.

“I ain’t shamming.” Ann kept a tight grip on the necklace. “It were in the pot, hidden-like, until I started to tip it out.”

“Ask any of these other ladies,” said the accuser, gesturing to them, “and they will tell you the necklace is mine.”

Several of the ladies nodded.

Miss Lawrence was among those nodding. Her copper-colored hair was covered with a fashionable hat, which shielded her face from the sun. But even with the hat, she’d gained a fair amount of color and a smattering of new freckles. With the calm weather of late, she’d had a reprieve from feeling sick. No doubt the passing of weeks had helped ease the wounds on her neck and back, for she seemed to move about less stiffly than she had when she’d first boarded.

She nodded politely at Mercy, acknowledging her presence, and Mercy dipped her head in response. “Miss Spencer,” Miss Lawrence said, stepping around the other poor women who’d been plucking and cleaning the fowl, “may I have a word?”

“Not now, Miss Lawrence.” The stout woman didn’t take her eyes off Ann, as though she was afraid that Ann would disappear with the necklace before she could get it back.

Miss Lawrence pursed her lips and lifted her chin as she approached Miss Spencer. She glanced from her roommate to Ann and back again, uncertainty flittering in her pretty green eyes.

Mercy had noticed Miss Lawrence wasn’t talkative with the other ladies and held mostly to herself. She guessed the woman would probably prefer not to get involved in the dispute at hand, that she was likely accustomed to deferring. And yet here she stood, apparently hoping to help resolve the matter.