Our Lady of the Islands (26 page)

“More marmalade, my dear?” Escotte asked Sian. “That toast looks rather dry.”

The under-butler serving them this morning started toward the indicated preserve, but Sian shook her head. “No, thank you. I’ve run out of room, I think. I’ll just leave the toast.”

“Really!” Escotte said, his brows raised. “But you’ve hardly eaten anything.”

By her new standards, perhaps. She’d still eaten at least two meals worth for any normal woman, surely, though her appetite had still not quite recovered from the effects of last night’s unpleasantness. Escotte’s carefully cultivated cheer over breakfast seemed dangerously shallow. Of course, that might just be due to his displeasure over Cleone’s failure to appear that morning.

Sian was worried for her too. She could not believe the conscientious girl capable of oversleeping. So what had happened to her? Sergeant Ennias had been dispatched immediately to find out, leaving Sian’s alternative guard, Wurrit, to escort her down here to Escotte’s ‘informal’ breakfast room. She had yet to see the formal breakfast room, and did not expect to, as it was doubtlessly reserved for functions to which her cousin’s
secret guest
would never be invited.

Quatama entered in what, for him, seemed quite a rush, and bent to whisper something into Escotte’s ear. Gigi, apparently recovered from last night’s indisposition, began searching through the butler’s hair, as if for fleas.

“What sort of illness?” Escotte asked, drawing back as if Quatama himself might be infected. Keeping a wary eye on the monkey, the butler bent again to whisper his reply, but Escotte shooed him back in irritation. “Just speak up, man. There is no one to be keeping secrets from in here. It’s her maid we are discussing, after all.”

The head butler straightened almost convulsively, blushing visibly, though his expression remained calm as ever. “Sergeant Ennias did describe some of her symptoms to me, sir, but … I am hesitant to relay them too specifically while you are still enjoying breakfast.”

“Is it contagious, do you think?” Escotte asked. “Should I be concerned?”

“It seems a common fever, sir, accompanied by severe, but not unusual … excrescences.”

“Yes, yes. I see. Well, that is quite enough, just as you say.” Escotte cast his eyes around the room impatiently. “Now what are we to do? This is very inconvenient.”

It would be a simple thing just to go heal the girl, Sian thought. But she was not about to suggest that she be let out of the building after last night’s quiet row. Cleone could be brought to the Census Hall for healing — Sian opened her mouth to mention this, but Quatama spoke up first.

“I beg your pardon, sir, but I was just about to say that Sergeant Ennias has brought a lady with him to replace her. Someone Cleone referred him to, it seems.”

“
What?
” Escotte exclaimed. “The head of my house guard is procuring maids now, without a word to me? Who is this woman? What can he be thinking to bring some stranger here, sight unseen?” He glanced warily at Sian. “My cousin is not just any guest to take potluck off the streets.”

“I shall send her off, of course,” Quatama said, already turning to leave.

“No, no. We need someone to look after my dear cousin’s needs until Cleone recovers.” Escotte leaned back and rolled his eyes; the monkey dropped into his lap and began inspecting his plate. “I suppose it cannot hurt to find out who this woman is. You say Cleone recommended her?”

“Quite highly, according to the sergeant,” said Quatama.

“Well, Cleone would know what I expect of such a person. Bring her in, I guess. Let’s have this over with.”

“Bring her … now, sir?” Quatama asked. “While you’re still at breakfast?”

“Yes!” Escotte said, clearly verging on exasperation. “You don’t imagine I would leave my cousin here to eat alone while I go out there to interview her, do you?”

“No, sir. I shall bring her right away, sir.” He turned back at the doorway and asked, “Shall I bring the sergeant too, sir?”

Escotte drew a deep breath, and said, softly, “I am not interviewing the sergeant, am I, Quatama. I’ve already hired him, and plan to keep him on a while. Most likely.”

“Yes, of course, sir. Thank you.” He was gone before his murmured thanks had faded.

Gigi sidled up onto the table and began poking through the serving dishes, moving slowly, as though that made her invisible.

Escotte turned to Sian and shook his head. “Do you have any household staff, my dear?”

“Just a housekeeper,” she said, wishing she were home with Bela now.

“I envy you,” said Escotte. “Just one is likely still too many, but an entire household of them …” He piffed and made a helpless gesture. “What a chore they are to manage. It’s a wonder I get anything done at all with so much
help
.”

Sian was spared having to invent some safe response to this by Quatama’s return with a nicely, if conservatively, dressed woman in tow. She was middle-aged and somewhat haggard looking, despite her tidy décolletage, with dark hair, well but clearly dyed, if one knew how to look for such things.
Poor woman,
Sian thought. Still struggling to look young and pretty, in a business where that could make the difference in finding employment — at houses such as this one, anyway. A closer look at this woman’s face told Sian all she wished to know about how hard a maid’s life must really be. Would Cleone look like that, she wondered, in another ten or twenty years? Sian felt truly awful, suddenly, about the uncharitable view she’d taken of the girl’s efforts all this time.

“My Lord Census Taker,” Quatama intoned, bowing deeply to his master in this woman’s presence, “this is Freda Machen, of whom we have been speaking.”

The woman curtsied as well now, very deeply, with striking grace and self-possession, pretending not even to notice the monkey now making quite free with the unfinished smoked langoustine frittata. This was clearly not the first fine house that she had worked in, Sian thought.

“Freda Machen. You are foreign then,” said Escotte. “How long since you arrived in Alizar?”

“Several decades, my lord,” she replied without any trace of accent or sign of nervousness. “I married an Alizari seaman, who unfortunately died shortly after bringing me to these lovely islands.”

“How sad,” said Escotte, sounding more bored than sympathetic.

The maid responded with a graceful shrug. “Everyone is dealt a blow or two, my lord. So are we made stronger and wiser.”

“I admire your stoicism,” Escotte said, somewhat more sincerely. “I have no need of weak or whiny staff here. Where else have you worked?”

“I have worked as a domestic maid ever since my husband’s death, my lord, in some very fine houses, including the Factorate itself. I have no doubt they will refer me highly there.” She showed no fear at all of Escotte, nor any trace of umbrage at his callous remarks. She might not be as pretty as Cleone, Sian thought with admiration, but she seemed far more poised.

Escotte waved dismissively. “There is no need for that. I expect your tenure here, if any, to be over in no more than a few days. Have you any hobbies?”

At this, Freda raised an eyebrow slightly, then calmly rattled off a list of decorative arts that put poor Cleone’s supply to shame.

“The guest you would be serving here is under my protection,” Escotte said, “and entangled in a very sensitive and potentially dangerous diplomatic situation. Her presence must be held in strictest secrecy. Are you capable of keeping such a secret, Freda — even from those closest to you?”

Well, I’m already sitting here in front of her,
Sian thought dryly.
What are you going to do if she says no, throw her in your dungeon?
Only then did it occur to her to wonder if he really might. Her cousin surely hadn’t risen this high without being capable of ruthlessness. She felt the axe swing over her own head again, and suppressed a tremble, hoping that he really was concerned for her well-being, and not just for her concealment.

“The officer who brought me here explained that discretion would be called for, my lord. As I mentioned, I have served at the Factorate itself, and can be trusted to forget whatever I have seen or heard here, at the doorway of your household every evening. If you wish, I believe the Factor himself will attest to my propriety.”

“That will certainly not be necessary,” said Escotte. “I’ll be keeping my own eyes and ears on you, and will know very quickly if you’ve failed in this respect. But tell me, please; I am not entirely a stranger to the Factorate myself. How is it that I’ve never seen you there, or heard of someone that, if your claim is to be credited, the Factor himself would vouch for?”

“It is not a servant’s purpose to be memorable, my lord. It is a servant’s job to be invisible. If you have never heard of me, perhaps I’ve done my job to satisfaction.”

“Well …” Escotte said, smiling for the first time. “I could hardly have provided any better answer myself. I am impressed, my dear. I will admit it. And I had not expected to be.” He turned to Sian. “What do you think, cousin? Will she do for a few days until Cleone is fit to rejoin you?”

Freda turned to Sian and curtsied, less deeply than she had to Escotte, but still more than low enough to make Sian understand how much she hoped for an affirmative answer. Sian felt rather worried for Cleone, actually, wondering if this seasoned veteran might not end up displacing her here altogether. But she felt sympathy for this woman too. “I am more than satisfied,” Sian said, offering Freda a reassuring smile.

“Very well, then,” Escotte said happily. “Freda Machen, allow me to present my cousin, Domina Sian Kattë, your charge until Cleone returns. Quatama will explain your duties to you. When he is done, you may return, and I will leave you to enjoy each other’s company. You and Quatama may leave us now.”

Freda dropped another deep and graceful curtsy to her new employer, a second, slighter one to Sian, then turned to follow Quatama from the room.

“Well, that was not as bad as I had feared,” said Escotte, lifting a small piece of fruit from plate to mouth, then calling Gigi back to his lap once more. The monkey obeyed, reluctantly, scattering frittata crumbs across the lace tablecloth as she went. “I guess the sergeant is forgiven.” He chuckled as he chewed and swallowed. “Which is a rather great relief, actually.
He
would not have been so easy to replace.”

As it turned out, Escotte did leave Sian behind in the breakfast room after all, though not alone. The under-butler still stood woodenly beside the doorway, ready to serve her more breakfast, should her appetite return — or, more likely, to prevent her unaccompanied departure.

Hardly a moment later, however, Freda flowed back in, offering Sian a gracious smile. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, my lady. It seems I am to take you to your quarters now, but the butler’s directions were … not entirely comprehensible. This is such a very large house. Would it be dreadful of me to ask if you might lead the way?”

“Goodness no,” Sian replied. How refreshing to be the one escorting rather than escorted for once.

As they made their way from hallway to staircase to hallway again, Sian could see Freda making careful mental notes as to their course, and the position of particular landmarks. She was certainly not dull, nor inattentive.

“And here we are at last,” Sian said as they arrived outside her bedroom.

“Thank you, my lady.” Freda moved gracefully around Sian to open the door for her, then followed Sian in, but stopped almost immediately with an ill-concealed expression of dismay. “Oh, but it is just this room? I had thought … Where would my lady like me to wait when you desire privacy?”

Privacy?
Had Quatama explained Freda’s duties to her that poorly? “I’ve no need of privacy when you are with me,” Sian replied, not knowing what else to say. “When you arrive each morning, or if you’re called away for any reason during the day, I would appreciate a knock before you re-enter my room. That is my arrangement with Cleone, and it seems to work well enough.”

Freda blinked at her. “And … when my lady has need to … refresh herself?”

“Oh! My bath and toilet is just down the hall,” Sian explained. “Cleone accompanies me there, but waits outside, of course. In case I find myself in some need I had not anticipated. But there is a door.” She laughed softly at Freda’s incredulous expression. “We’re allowed at least that much privacy. As for the rest, we will be like sisters. And if you promise not to tell Cleone,” she added, wanting to put this poor woman with her dyed hair more at ease, “I confess it will be very nice to have a sister closer to my own age than dear Cleone is, if only for a couple days.”