‘No.’

I turned, brought myself face to face with the dress.

‘I am so glad you’re here, Frances,’ I heard her say behind me.

It was like having a wooden marionette, I told myself, slipping its limp little arms through the sleeves, fastening its buttons. White women all the same as babies, I heard Phibbah say. They just want feeding, dressing, fussing. Then stay out the way o’ their shit. After that, I busied my hands and eyes with the dress, wondering out loud whether I should pass the charcoal iron over it, whether she wanted me to sprinkle it with rosewater, and kept up those gallivantings until the very last hook was fastened in place.

She’d already given me three of her cast-off frocks, which I’d hung on the nail above my pallet. The one I wore that morning was a pink-and-white-striped morning dress with a bow at the collar, gripping at the shoulders and waist and just touching my ankles. I’d put my hair up also, using some pins she gave me, so it crested over my forehead, and I fancied it made me look both serious and sad. When she was dressed, she went over and sat cross-legged on her bed, twisting her fingers into the coverlet and saying we’d make a start on the writing. From the desk rose the smell of orange oil and beeswax. I pictured Pru leaning over it, her polishing cloth swiping at the wood, and pressed my finger to it, leaving a smear like a breath on cold glass.

The snug room, the warm fire, the woman with pale hands and blue eyes. It was so close to my vision that day I arrived in this city that I dared to believe I’d had a stroke of good fortune once more.

EXAMINATION OF EUSTACIA LINUX BY MR JESSOP, continued

A. Some weeks after she first arrived, I noticed that the prisoner had fallen into the habit of going to the mistress’s bedchamber late at night. It was just after she started as her abigail; I observed it myself, several times, starting with that very first night. She was crossing the landing which led away from the mistress’s bedchamber, the very same place I saw her the night of the murders.

Mr Jessop: What time was this?

A. Just gone midnight.

Q. Where were you when you observed her?

A. Downstairs, in the front hall. From there I could see clearly up to the landing on the third floor. I called out.

Q. Did she show any signs of distress?

A. No.

Q. Did she seem startled?

A. No.

Q. Did she appear to be asleep?

A. No. In fact, she leaned over the balcony, and spoke with me.

Q. What did she say?

A. She’d heard a noise from the mistress’s rooms and gone to check, but finding her door locked was going upstairs again. I warned her that she should be in bed and I’d better not find her out of bed again at night. Nevertheless, a few weeks later, the same thing happened again.