For now you can be at ease that after the terrible fire at the old foundlingery the children are all as best as can be done for. Most we have founded in better homes, some went to prentice early, and all's that's left of the littlest my most admirable sister and I have taken in for good under our own arm.
'My, my, rumor has spread to my mother at last,' the fulgar said, interrupting Rossamund's reading as she pored over a letter of her own. 'She deplores my use of QGU in so squanderous a manner, of course…' She studied the missive some more. 'The dear has never approved of my path-my violent irresponsible cavortings-and now she has heard of my taking up with sedorners… Shall I bring the whole history of fair names to infamy? she asks. A half truth is better than a whole lie.' She put the communication aside with a long-suffering sigh and took up another.
Rossamund went back to his letter.
Far happier news is that now all legals have been settled, it turns that Madam Opera did leave the sum of her small wealth and worldly consequence to both Old Carp and me. Can you believe it! With it comes the marine society contract, which makes it now my right to set up the foundlingery again. My dear, dear brother-in-law has so taken to the littlest that Praeline and I still care for in our home that he has agreed to buy an enormous old manor- burg on the Tuinwig, in Primvild-of all the best places! — and Praeline will assist me as mistress into the bargain. Can you believe this either, heart of my heart? I shall be a marine society proprietress! Carp and Barthom?us will be our starting masters, and I have sent to the Navy Board, who have willingly consented to continue with us and sponsor more salty old darlings like the two dears with you now to serve out better days here. Dear Masters Fransitart and Crowmpalin will always have a place here should ever they want an end to their adventuring days-I have written them so. I almost dare to believe that, with the money Praeline's husband is granting, the foundlingery might be better than before.
Providence ever turns bad to the good, if you have eyes to see it.
My blessings to you. Write to me so that I might know how you fare.Your previous letter was so short it troubles me so. Forever and always your P.S. I have written of the same things to Masters F and C, so you do not need to pass this on to them.
It was signed with the flourish of a soul very much in a transport of happiness.
Blinking back bitter tears, Rossamund read a second time, hastening over the tale of Gosling's downfall, relishing the prospect of a new and certainly better foundlingery.
There was also a short communication from Sebastipole. It was dated more than two weeks gone-well before the fall of Winstermill-and it read as follows: Rossamund, I do not have time to write more than the briefest missive to convey to you my satisfaction upon the report that you have won free from the misuses of the Master- of-Clerks and are under the much vaunted care of so eminent a teratologist. With her you are most certainly safe.
Here in the Considine the marshal continues his fight against false testimony, baseless accusation and the sluggish obstinacy of Imperial bureaucracy. Strange accounts come to us of the Surgeon Swill, that he makes a show of himself in Brandenbrass with a list of outrageous claims. I hope he has not caused you any discomfort. He might be dazzling the Branden court with his wild proclamations, but here in the sub-capital, report of such a carry on has only harmed his reputation-and those associated with him, and does our cause good. Thus encouraged, we go on until we prevail.
I must cease, for we have just now been summoned to yet another review of informal inquiry. Of Discipline and Limb, Lamplighter's Agent amp;c The Considine
'Ah, excellent…,' Europe said eventually with feline satisfaction, rousing her factotum from his concentration once more. She lifted a wad of papers that had been a part of the mail-a large stack of pamphlets. 'These should interest you,' she said, reading one briefly before laying them with a flop on the seat beside him. Most obvious was an edition of the Defamiere, and with it Quack! The Mordant Mercer, The Viper, Wasp and several more-every one a scandal or low-toned pamphlet, and all the latest issue. Topmost was a list in Mister Carp's hand showing the name of each publication and beside each, page numbers.
'Miss Europe?' Rossamund marveled, folding both missives neatly to put them safe in his inside weskit pocket where their words might be close to his soul.
'I have not lowered my tastes, if that is what you are thinking,' she said flatly, fixing him with a pointed look. 'Turn to each of those pages and read… A most excellent retort,' she concluded with a contented half smile.
Doing as he was bidden, Rossamund discovered in every pamphlet an article without title, featured near the front of the paper-usually the fifth page. The Duchess-in-waiting of Naimes wishes to refute previous claims held in other papers of low repute that she improperly exercised her born right of QGU in the defense of one of lower station against the designs of greater men bent on infamy. Her accusers have since sought to denounce her publicly for such an honest service with implications of the basest sort, which can only be seen as regrettable and a symptom of their own villainy. Their intention base and self-interested gain, they embroil themselves most wholly and most treacherously with the darkest of all trades.Through the artifice of their own cunning they have eluded the just reach of Imperial Notice. We are now honor-bound to expose these dastards as base traitors. We properly await a swift righting of this great wrong.
'It seems I am not without my defenders,' Europe said archly. 'A rigorous counter-offend to their radix,' she added, Rossamund well recognizing terms of the Hundred Rules. 'Thank you, Mister Finance…' Laying a bundle of papers down, she gave her young factotum an astute look. 'Rossamund… Monsiere Trottinott has inspired me,' she said suddenly. 'I am going to hold a grand gala, and not a simple silk rout, but a sortire I'travesty-a come-as-you- fancy ball.'
Come-as-you-fancy? The young factotum regarded her in blinking bafflement. Where folks dress up as kings or heldins or fabulous creatures or any other fancy notion? 'I thought you held galas and fetes and routs and all to be interminably dreary,' he said.
The Branden Rose blinked at him. 'They are, exceedingly so… unless someone of genuine refinement holds them. Ours shall be especially grand, in honor of my successful coursing venture.'
'But the knave wasn't a success,' Rossamund thoughtlessly returned.
Europe became rather still, fixing him with a withering expression. 'Was it not…,' she said in wintry tones. 'My guests will not know that, will they?'
Bobbing his head, her factotum conceded. 'No, they would not… What of Pater Maupin?' he dared, speaking with slow caution.
Europe's eyes twinkled with occult thoughts. 'He may wait' was all she said.
Rossamund frowned.
'You, my sour factotum, I charge with the task of preparing its food and decoration. Do not goggle, Rossamund! Kitchen and Clossette will be your aides, of course, and I am sure Doctor Crispus and even your old masters could lend their capabilities in help.' She smiled a sly smile. 'As for myself, I shall take charge over the night's entertainments.'
Taking a deep breath, he asked, 'When will it be?'
'Midwich, the 20th of this month' was the quick reply.
Rossamund did a hasty calculation of the time he had to accomplish impossibility.
A week from today!
23
Lesquins also called landsaire, the 'high end' of mercenary soldiering, with equally high fees, the best proofing and weapons, and long lists of honors. Some companies are given a to taking sanguinary draughts in order that they might ignore pain, fear and, even for a time, resist the frission or scathing of a wit.
