TWO ROOMS SAVANNAH HAD YET TO search. She’d been here over two weeks, yet every time she visited the kitchen, Mrs. Pruitt was there. The housekeeper, kind though she was, might as well just drag her bed down the hallway and set it up by the stove. Savannah peered down the corridor to her right and, even now, heard the clang of pots and pans as the older woman sang softly to herself. Then she looked back toward the left to her father’s study. No, Mr. Bedford’s study. How was she supposed to legitimately search in there when he’d expressly requested that nothing be changed? But he wasn’t home right now, and Miss Sinclair was in the central parlor with a fresh pot of tea perusing the latest issue of La Mode Illustrée, with several past issues of Godey’s beside her on the settee. Savannah checked the time on the grandfather clock and knew Mrs. Pruitt’s schedule well enough to hope the woman would be occupied with dinner preparations for at least a little while.
