She stepped into the young girl's playroom and for the hundredth time, wondered why, with so many rooms to choose from, Bennet had picked this small, depressing, square-looking, ugly room as his daughter's playroom. The window had straight bars that gave it a cell-like appearance and the furniture was extremely depressing. The usual official type of chairs found in offices.
"Good morning, Mrs. Lewin. Do you want anything?" Beatrice asked, politely rising from her seat.
"I was looking for you," Clara said with a smile. She looked around for Isabella, but she was nowhere to be found. "I thought perhaps you, or Isabella would take me around the house, show me the ropes, in fact."
"After lunch, while Isabella is having her rest, I'll be at your disposal," the housekeeper said.
"But can't we go now, all three of us?" asked Clara impulsively.
