Brenna was on her hands and knees, looking under the bed for the item, when a maid arrived with freshly washed linens for the bed. “I used it this morning, and now it is missing.” Sara sat the linens on the bed and dropped down beside her. She glanced around the space. “I don’t see it, Milady. Have you asked Agnes?” “I have not. She has gone into the village. Perhaps you will have better luck than I am having.” They stood and began a thorough search of the room. The brush was nowhere to be found. “This is odd,” Brenna screwed up her face. “It could not have walked away.” After checking the sitting room, Brenna was certain something was amiss. She always lined up her brushes in a neat row on her dressing table. It was a habit she’d picked up from her mother. And neither of them ever lost a brush. “This is odd,” Sara agreed. Brenna puzzled over the missing brush. “It is possible someone borrowed it.” Though she thought it unlikely, she could not accuse anyone of thievery without first excluding every other option.
