He stared at her, his mouth open a little. “That isn’t… You aren’t a laughing-stock,” he said at last. She shook her head.
“Mr Saint Frey – Jone – please. If you do care, leave me alone.”
He hesitated, and then he said, “All right. I hoped to be able to convince you–” He stopped when she held up her hand. He bowed and turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd along the Mercantile. She watched him go, feeling a pang, and wondering if she had been wrong to turn him off.
Idiot, she told herself, and made her way toward home.
Chapter Twenty-One
The afternoon shadows had lengthened by the time Tesara opened the kitchen door and slipped inside, holding her breath. When the only sounds came from the parlor, the low rumble of her father’s voice and her mother’s light answers, she let out her breath and closed the door. The back door latch rattled and she knew she had been heard.
“Who’s there?” Brevart called out, his voice tinged with alarm.
“Just me, Papa,” she said. “I’m going upstairs.”
“Tesara, where have you been? Goodness girl, you should tell us when you go out.” The exasperation in her mother’s voice made her wince.
“Sorry, Mama.”
She waited a moment, but that was all. Quickly she unbuttoned her boots and slipped them off, then tiptoed up the stairs to the bedroom. The parlor room was ajar and she was tempted to stay and listen to her parents’ conversation, but if they saw her in this dress… She hurried up the stairs and once in the bedroom, unbuttoned the servant’s dress and put her old day dress back on.
As she hurried into her old dress, she was forced to make a comparison between the two. The servant’s dress was well made, though plain and clearly for a housemaid’s hard work. The hem of her own dress was bedraggled and drooping. It had already been turned, and was faded and stained on both sides. She had meant to mend it but her needle skills were sorely lacking, and it was difficult to wield a needle for fine work. The dress had become too big for her, hanging off her narrow shoulders and draping over her stained and stretched-out stays. Though it buttoned in the back, she was able to slip it on back to front, button up, and then shift it the right way around, with the buttons in back. All dresses should be servant’s dresses, she thought crossly. She folded the housemaid’s dress conscientiously, and stuffed it under the mattress on her side of the bed, where it wouldn’t disturb Yvienne. She could take it back to the crossroads the next day easily enough, and then her little adventure should be over. There was no need to worry Yvienne about her expedition to their family home, she thought, because as far as Guildmaster Trune and Jone Saint Frey were concerned, Tesara Mederos would never cross paths with either of them again.
In the dim light, Tesara brushed and rebraided her hair, pinning it up into sober loops, deft despite her crooked fingers. She tried hard not to feel a pang of disappointment at her decision never to see Jone Saint Frey again.
“Tesara!” her mother called to her from the parlor. “Come down here at once!”
She went down to sit with her parents. They were where she had left them. There had been a fire in the parlor, but it had gone out, and they had wrapped themselves in shawls. She gave her mother a kiss and then her father. With candles being so dear, they were holding off on lighting any for the evening, but the twilight had drawn on so quickly that she knew they could barely see. Brevart had angled his paper so it caught the last fading light from the window, and Alinesse could only be pretending to read.
“Should I make some tea?” Tesara said.
“No, dear. Where were you today?”
“Out walking.”
“Just walking? Yvienne went to the market with the girl,” Alinesse said, glancing up at her and then back down at the front page of yesterday’s Gazette. “She’s keen to learn the marketing. Perhaps you could think about that, the next time you’re out walking.”
Tesara’s back stiffened. Really, Mother? It was yet another example of the ways in which Tesara Didn’t Measure Up. She bit back a snippy reply, knowing it would do no good to argue. She pretended to leaf through another page of news from the previous month, even though the small print was almost invisible. Ships that came in, cargo, advertisements for corsets and patent medicines; it all meant nothing to her. The only thing that kept her attention was the thought of practicing again. Now she thought of it, she had felt something in her old bedroom. That gust of wind hadn’t come out of nowhere. She had called it up.
“–Tesara?” said her mother.
“I’m sorry, Mama, what?”
Her mother gave a long-suffering sigh. “Can you not at least try to pay attention, Tesara? You’re not a child anymore, you know. I was just saying, if you decide to go out walking again, please let us know when and where. We are entirely friendless in this town, and I don’t trust the constables these days to keep the peace for a good girl, let alone – well, let’s just say we don’t enjoy the protections we once did.” Alinesse threw a meaningful glance at her husband, but it was lost on Brevart.
“Of course, Mama,” she managed. Casting about for another topic, she lit upon, “Where is Uncle?”
This time Brevart looked up and hastily back down at his paper.
“He’s investigating opportunities,” Alinesse said. “Which reminds me, Tesara. He said you were very rude to him.”
Her determination not to rise to her mother’s lures evaporated in an instant.
“I was rude to him!” she cried. She threw down the paper and stood. “Mother, if I told you–”
“I don’t want to know, Tesara!” Alinesse snapped. “I know
