“I’m in the kitchen,” Yvienne called, her voice muffled from somewhere in the depths of the house.
Tesara squeezed around the staircase and into the kitchen. Yvienne wore an apron and had her arms up to her elbows in the sink, scrubbing at the dishes. Her dark hair, such a contrast to Tesara’s pale locks, was skinned back tight from her forehead save for one long strand that hung down along her narrow, thin-lipped, stark-white face.
Of the two of them, Yvienne had it the hardest, Tesara thought. She herself was well known as the family dunderhead, but Yvienne had been acknowledged the smartest girl in Port Saint Frey, even when they were little. The academy was more a holding pen for the daughters of families with pretensions of nobility and little understanding of what a fine ladies’ seminary should be, so it was not as if Yvienne had been denied access to an education of any real value, but to see her forced to work long into the night scrubbing floors was heart-breaking. I wish I could make it up to her. But she didn’t know where to begin.
Tesara sighed and rolled up her sleeves, grabbing another apron. “Don’t tell me,” she said. “The girl quit?” This was the fourth one, Alinesse said. Ever since Uncle Samwell had gotten out of prison, six months before they had come home from school, they had not been able to keep a housemaid.
Yvienne rubbed viciously at the large pot. “She said that she was a virtuous girl and did not need to be treated like a slattern by folks what have come down in the world but think they don’t stink.” Her accent was impeccable. Tesara giggled reluctantly.
“Well you can’t blame this on me,” she said, thinking of governesses. How many had been driven away by her talents when they were children? She grabbed a dish towel and began to dry the dishes.
“No, but I can blame Uncle,” Yvienne said, and she dunked the pot in the steaming rinse water as if wishing it were Uncle’s head. “He must approach them with improper advances. It would be laughable, except the girls aren’t laughing.” When her hands came up they were red and chafed, the knuckles swollen from hard work. Neither girl had the fine hands of a merchant’s daughter anymore. It had been surprisingly easy to learn to be a servant, Tesara thought with bitterness. All one had to do was sleep little, eat less, and work oneself to the bone.
To banish the thought, she took the pot from her sister and began to dry it, supporting the pot awkwardly with her crippled hand. “What did Mother and Father say?”
“You know how they are now.” Yvienne pushed back the fallen lock and left a smear of harsh soap across her forehead. Indeed, Tesara did know. The long years of their trials had taken their toll. Alinesse had become old and bitter, and Brevart, broken. “Father didn’t even notice and Mother just snapped at Uncle. He snapped back and told her that she should just boot him out into the street.” She struck a pose and intoned, “But we’re House Mederos and House Mederos sticks together.”
Tesara snorted. “Since when?” she muttered, setting the pot on the table.
“Exactly. But they’re desperate to hold onto this image of the besieged House Mederos. It’s the only thing they have left, I suppose.” Yvienne sighed. “And it wouldn’t be fair to kick Uncle out. He served six years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. He was framed, Tesara. Yes, he was stupid for not insuring the fleet, but that isn’t a crime. It was a risk.” Her expression hardened. “And if the ships hadn’t sunk, no one would have dreamed of bringing a suit against the family.”
It was her old complaint, and it made Tesara uneasy. “Have we heard anything yet?” Today was the hearing, when it would be determined if there would be any more sanctions against House Mederos. What else could they do to us that they haven’t already done? she wondered. You can’t get blood from a turnip, as the saying went.
And as her father and uncle always added, “But you can still get juice.” And they had chuckled back in the day, when they had been the ones doing the squeezing.
If the Guild so decided, they could take what little juice was left from the Mederos family, and leave them with less than nothing.
“Not a word yet, and we may not even have a verdict today, according to Dr Reynbolten,” Yvienne said. Dr Reynbolten was the family lawyer, who had stayed loyal. Yvienne’s expression grew wistful. “I wish they had let me come. I would have liked to have been there.”
Tesara shuddered.
“I can’t think of anything worse,” she said. It was bad enough that all the misses stared at her; the hearing would be full of merchants and Guildsmen, all sitting in judgment over her family. She shuddered again. Yvienne gave her a curious look, but evidently decided not to question.
“And where were you earlier?” she asked, instead.
“Window shopping on the Mile,” Tesara admitted. “Don’t fuss. It was a lovely day and I just needed to be – out.” The small house was too confining and she had little to keep her busy, so she walked, carrying a basket as if she had errands. She envied Uncle his frequent trips to the coffee house down at the docks, in search of his cronies from the old days. He was barely tolerated and probably abused behind his back, but it would be lovely to be able to sit in a tea shop and people watch.
Not that there was money for such simple pleasures. She had no doubt that if any of them were seen to be squandering their half-groats in Mrs Lewiston’s Tea Emporium that it would set Port Saint Frey society into a froth of gossip.
“Not fussing,” Yvienne said.
Tesara shrugged, tossing the dishcloth onto the hook over the sink. “I kept to
