“Treacher must know who wrote it,” Tesara pointed out what she thought was the obvious. “After all, he printed it.”
“Not if whoever wrote it posted it to him anonymously and paid him a guilder to print it,” Brevart said, with an irritated air. Tesara sighed. Well, she tried.
“No matter who it is, the Guild will soon put a stop to it,” Alinesse said. She looked a bit relieved at the idea. “We certainly don’t need this kind of talk. Not when we’ve just gotten the judgment.”
“I’ll see what I can find out down at the docks,” Uncle said. “We’ll be the talk of the town again, and no mistake.” He looked cheerful at the idea.
“Let’s pray not,” Brevart muttered.
Chapter Nine
He printed it. He printed it. Yvienne’s first response was euphoria – right now, her words were being read at breakfast tables all across the city. Her second response was recognition. Treacher had added a line: hiding in plain sight, behind a veil of respectability.
He knew who was behind the fraud.
She could barely contain herself, sitting sedately and spooning porridge while her family bickered. The thunk of the post hitting the doormat broke her reverie. Alinesse and Brevart froze, like rabbits in a poacher’s lantern light – letters meant bills and bad news. In the two weeks that Yvienne and Tesara had been back, the ritual of the morning post had been one of panic and recriminations.
They could hear Mathilde’s measured footsteps as she went to fetch the post. There was a pause, and then she came in to the dining room, dipped a brisk curtsey, and handed the letters to Alinesse.
“Thank you, Mathilde,” Alinesse said with a regal nod.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Even Brevart watched as Alinesse flipped through the letters. “Well,” she said finally, and set them aside. She looked up at everyone, still silent, waiting to hear the news. “Yes,” she snapped. “They’re bills. What did you expect – correspondence from our former associates upon the favorable judgment? You would think, wouldn’t you, that such would be the case? But no. Not one word.” She drew breath to continue. Yvienne braced herself for what was coming next. Alinesse had gone down this well-worn path before, the previous tirades digging ruts in the pathways of her thoughts.
Samwell was the first to escape. He pushed back his chair with haste, and got up. “I’m for the docks. Coming, Brev?”
For all that Brevart detested his brother-in-law, he looked wistful at the thought of escape. Under Alinesse’s glare however, he subsided. “No, I’ll finish the paper. I may be down later. Yes, that’s the thing.”
“I’ll clear,” Tesara said, and stood and began collecting plates. “Vivi?”
Feeling a coward, Yvienne took her up on her invitation. Aware she was thwarted, Alinesse opened up the letters with a grim expression.
Mathilde looked up from the stove as they came into the kitchen. Her face was startled, and then she smiled at them.
“Goodness, you don’t have to clear the table, Miss Yvienne and Miss Tesara,” she said. “It’s what you’re paying me for, after all.”
“It’s no trouble,” Tesara said.
“We’re used to hard work,” Yvienne said. Mathilde kept smiling at them, but now her smile was fixed.
“You see, if your mother thinks I’m shirking, she may turn me off,” Mathilde said. “And my family needs the money. So, if you please, Misses Mederos, let me clear.”
Yvienne felt her face flame with embarrassment. Tesara set down her plates next to the sink and backed away.
“Yes, of course,” Yvienne said. “Of course.”
Once again, they fled.
Another knock came at the door, and relieved to have something to do, Yvienne opened it.
A child stood there, in a dirty shirt and coat, dirty cap, and a runny nose. He looked suspiciously at Yvienne. It was so exactly what she felt on seeing him that she almost laughed. She didn’t think the child would appreciate being laughed at though.
“Are you her?” he demanded.
“That depends. Who is she?”
He took a breath and recited from memory. “Viv – ee – n Merados.”
Close enough. “Yes. I am she.” She was intensely curious. Who would be looking for her? Surely not Mastrini’s. The boy thrust a grubby letter at her and she took it. He gave her another gimlet-eyed expectant stare. “Oh dear. I have not a single groat, I’m afraid.”
“He said not to expect one but I should ask anyway. He said I should get used to being told no, so it wouldn’t stop me.”
“Well, he was right. Thank you.”
Without another word the boy ran off the way small boys do, with great purpose and having already forgotten her for the chance to be free of the schoolroom, chores, and expectations, and having a whole city to run around in. She felt an unexpected envy of the child, so much more free at his age than she had ever been. Yvienne looked down at the letter and thumbed under the seal.
Miss Mederos,
All right. You convinced me. Come by my shop tonight at 8 pm. Be wary – let no one know or follow.
T
Postscript. Nice work on the editorial.
Chapter Ten
“I knew it,” Yvienne whispered. He knew; he was going to help her. She hastened up the stairs, only to see her mother and father come out of the parlor.
“Oh, there you are, Vivi. Who was at the door?” Alinesse said.
“A street urchin. I sent him off,” Yvienne improvised without a pause.
“This neighborhood,” Alinesse tsked. “I meant to say, Yvienne, Mathilde is a treasure, an absolute treasure. Not such a housemaid on the Crescent, I dare say.” It was a meager satisfaction, but Yvienne had no doubt it warmed her mother in these difficult times.
“She asked me very particular questions about the brewing of coffee,” Brevart agreed. He brightened
