“…No,” Yvienne said after a pause. “When is your next invitation?”
“Scarlantis. Next week. Funny that I got invited to that one – none of the young people are going. They’re all going to be at Amos Kerrill’s birthday party that night.”
Yvienne sat up, pushing her hair back. “Amos Kerrill is having a birthday party?”
“Apparently so. Not that I would go. Jone Saint Frey – remember him? Said Amos hadn’t changed.”
Yvienne nodded, but to Tesara it looked as if she was very far away.
“Yvienne, respond to signal.”
“What? Oh. Sorry. So tired. So, you’ve seen Jone Saint Frey again? I always thought you were friends. That’s good, Tes. Good to have friends.” She yawned, enormously. “No more. No, never mind braiding. Even if my hair turns into a mare’s nest, I must sleep. I could barely walk home this morning after staying up all night.”
“Sleep,” Tesara said. She got up, and tucked her sister in as if she were an infant. “I’ll be quiet as a…”
Yvienne was already asleep. Tesara had the thought that the Nag’s Head foghorn could blast in their bedroom, and her sister would sleep right through it. And then she had the thought that Yvienne had said she had gotten to sleep at the TreMondis’ by midnight. So why did she say she had stayed up until dawn?
Chapter Forty-Six
Gentleman Bandit Arrested!
The Chief Constable has announced a break in the case of the Gentleman Bandit! A dock rat by the name of Silas Armondo, rumored to be a Cramdean cutpurse, is in custody after a long chase along Warehouse Row.
“We’ll soon have him singing like a bird,” Duffey, the constable in charge, promised. “He has a lot to answer for.”
The Gentleman Bandit has been implicated in a number of brazen attacks, and this arrest will go a long way toward reassuring a nervous city.
–The Gazette
Poor fellow; well, soon they’ll have to release him, thought Yvienne. She wondered whether he had done something in particular to be nabbed in the wide net cast for her or if he was simply an unlucky scapegoat. She finished reading the paper while eating toast and a bit of butter and gulping down her tea before work. As the first one up in the mornings, and having to be out the door before the rest of her family got out of bed, she ate alone now. Yvienne liked the peacefulness of it. Mathilde made sure Yvienne had toast or porridge or eggs and tea before she left the house. And it was so nice to be able to read the paper first, without her father’s commentary, so long as she folded it neatly for him after she was finished.
The mantel clock chimed half past the hour. Time to go. She wiped her mouth, folded the paper and left it by her father’s place, and gathered her things. She left by the kitchen door so she could thank Mathilde. As always, the housemaid managed the kitchen with brisk competency. Her complexion was calm and even, not a bit ruddy, even though the stove was throwing off a good bit of heat. Mathilde went on kneading dough, neat as a pin in her uniform and apron.
“Off already?” Mathilde said. “Did you have enough to eat?”
“Yes, thank you,” Yvienne said. “Is there anything you need me to bring when I come home?”
She had taken to running a few errands for Mathilde, who only worked just past luncheon. It was easier for the maid, who could then have the bits and bobs she needed when she came to work in the morning. It was nothing Yvienne would ever tell her parents.
“No, I’ve got everything for today. I might have a list for you this afternoon, so you’ll have everything on hand for my day off. See you in the morning.”
“Thank you, Mathilde. See you.”
Yvienne knew that Tesara didn’t like Mathilde, but she did. It was lovely having one person in her household who was competent and liked her work. Mathilde was a great help, and if she sometimes wondered – just a little – at how they managed to hire and keep a housemaid who would be pronounced “an absolute treasure” by every merchant woman in Port Saint Frey, she firmly told herself that Mathilde was one of those specimens of household help who preferred a quiet situation.
She herself was going to a very unquiet posting.
Alve TreMondi had not tried anything else either frightening or inappropriate after his direct attack several nights ago, but she was very conscious of his presence, those few times when he deigned to climb the stairs to his daughters’ schoolroom. She was grateful he went to his office most days, and she had grown to dread the scent of his cheroot. She tried never to be alone in the house without the girls or Mrs Rose, or any of the other servants. She knew he would try again. He had not given up – the fact that she was still working under his roof was proof of that. When she fended off another attack, though, she would be sacked.
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, she thought. She needed this job, less for the money and more for the cover it provided. She doubted she would be able to get another governess posting, especially since she was sure that Mr TreMondi would make sure to poison the well.
The visit to the Hall of Records had been fruitful. She had discovered an upsurge in annual earnings in the records that far outpaced the usual percentage the Houses had been accustomed to. The Houses had divvied up the Mederos assets, which accounted for some of the money, but not all. Since the Houses were required to file their meticulously kept records with the Guild, they should have included the source of that income.
Either all of the Five Houses had made the same error, or no
