Right, she thought. Time to go. She would send a note to Mirandine and Jone explaining what had happened. She kept her hands demurely clasped, the better to control any other wayward releases, and began to make her way to the door.
The party at the Maiden of Dawn was very exclusive and very private. From her perch on the wall overlooking the garden at the back of pub, Yvienne could hear the chatter of the young people in the garden, laughing and flirting, and abusing most abominably their counterparts at the Fleurenzes. She was nestled up against the side of the public house, under the eaves, and waited patiently, a dark figure in the shadows.
“Can you imagine?” she heard one girl say in languid tones. “A masked ball? They’re just copying us. We had a masque last season, but at least we know how to behave. The constables must come soon. I am sure of it.”
“That would be a good prank, to call for the constables!” one of the boys laughed. “Serve them right, annoying their betters. Fleurenze wanted to go into business with my House. Turned them down flat. Papa said they’re putting on airs. Next thing they’ll be wanting in the Guild. Upstarts need to be put in their place.”
Yvienne could smell the tobacco, and a girl said with annoyance, “Must you? Mama will be furious if she smells smoke on my gown.”
The squabbling continued. Yvienne slid down off the wall and found the gate. It was locked, but it was short work to find the key under the rock between the stone wall and the gate. She calculated her escape route. She knew she had to move fast. If the constables were to come to close down the Fleurenze romp, they would be all over the neighborhood. The last thing she needed was to run into a copper tonight.
She stepped into the garden, and raised her pistol.
Chapter Forty
“Was that a pistol shot?” A girl near Tesara turned to her, puzzled. Tesara had heard it too, a sharp report discernable over the general din.
“I think it was,” Tesara said. Their eyes met – the girl did not seem as drunk as the rest of the guests.
“Constables,” the girl said with a knowing air. “They must be on their way. Well, I’m off.”
Suiting action to words, the girl shrugged her way through the crowd.
“Tesara!” She turned. It was Mirandine, laughing, and hanging on to Ermunde’s arm. “There you are! What a romp!” She was entirely disheveled, her hair a complete mess. Her mask hung from her hand, the magnificent feathers sadly bent and broken. Mirandine came up to Tesara. “I’ve had the best time. Ermie is so sweet. He’s so respectful. Such a gentleman.”
She and Ermunde roared with laughter.
“Mirandine, there was a gunshot. Someone said the constables are coming. We should go,” Tesara tried. Mirandine stopped laughing and tried to focus on her, then screamed with laughter again.
“Constables! Another success!” Ermunde exclaimed. “Mam will be pleased.”
“Do you know where Jone is?” Tesara tried again.
“Oh, how sweet and touching, Tesara. Jone is a big boy. He’ll be all right. The constables can’t touch him.”
“Not a hair on the head of the son of Saint Frey,” Ermunde agreed with solemnity. He then took shocking familiarities with Mirandine’s person, kissing her like a limpet, which she returned eagerly, and Tesara lost her patience. She stormed off, and Mirandine turned her attention just long enough to shout,
“He’s upstairs! Go right up the grand staircase!”
With the crowd all pouring in the other direction toward the exits, it took several minutes before Tesara achieved her objective – the staircase. It was easier to breathe here, and she stood on the first steps, looking down. The main salon of the great house was in wreckage. Smashed glass, spilled spirits, trampled masks and dominos – the floor was littered with the flotsam of a mad romp. She gave a considering glance at the upstairs. It would be rude to venture about the private areas of her host’s house, but if Jone were upstairs, then that’s where she would find him. She could imagine him quickly tired of the riot and finding a quiet place to wait out the party. She hurried up the stairs, ripping off her mask to make it easier to see.
The upstairs was unlit except for a few lamps here and there. Tesara grabbed one small lamp sitting on a table and carried it with her. Some of the rooms were occupied and she could hear muffled sounds. No doubt more of the same liberties occupying Mirandine and Ermunde were happening behind the doors. Tesara began to feel uneasy. If Jone were up here with a girl, it would embarrass all of them to be found. She hesitated, uncertain, then walked to the window at the end of the hall to look out.
There was nothing but chaos outside the Fleurenze mansion. Constables, guests, a fire wagon, alarms and shouting. People were fighting and shoving. Mam – Mrs Fleurenze – was a foreshortened presence right up against the very tall Chief Constable, and she was shaking her stick at him while her three dogs barked and barked.
Tesara didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “This is madness,” she muttered, and turned away. At that moment, another shot rang out. She startled, and everyone in the street screamed. The constables began shouting for order, and the crowd stampeded.
A few doors opened behind her, and several people poked their heads out. “What’s going on?” a man demanded, tucking his shirt into his trousers.
“The constables have come. Someone’s shooting. And all is chaos on the street,” Tesara reported.
“Damme!” the man swore. He drew his head back in and said to
