The Sisters Mederos

by Patrice Sarath

  “I think it’s so quaint that some things about Port Saint Frey never change, don’t you?” she said. He gave her a mocking look and then when they were brought together again, she added, “You are still as much of a donkey’s behind as you were when we were children.”

  Amos laughed out loud.

  “Give up, Mederos. You’re as useless at wit as your family is at trade.” His mouth twisted and he leaned in close. “We all laughed when your uncle was dragged off and your family evicted.”

  Rage blazed up in her. Even gloved, the power pulsed in her fingers. Tesara put up her hands and pushed the energy out her fingertips.

  There was a pop and the smell of thunderstorms, and Amos stumbled backwards, taking half the dancers in their set with him. People cried out, and he fell to his seat, his face comically shocked.

  The dance stopped and everyone turned to look.

  “Goodness me,” Tesara said faintly, holding her gloved hands up to her mouth. “He just fell.”

  “Amos, you’re drunk,” another boy said, laughing. Two of the young men went to pick him up and winced as static electricity shocked them both.

  “I didn’t… I’m not…” he tried to protest, and he looked over at Tesara with narrowed eyes, with no little fear in them.

  By that time, she was standing with Elenor and the other girls, pretending to giggle. “I thought he was drunk,” she whisper-shouted. “But I didn’t want to say anything. And then he just fell – how embarrassing. Boys always think they can hold their liquor when they can’t.”

  The small orchestra started up again, and the dancers reformed. Amos was dragged away by his friends, and another young man, a friend of Jax, stepped up heroically to offer to dance with her. He danced well, and he was shy, and it was a relief to just dance and let her heart settle down. Her fingers settled as well, though the boy, named Dantes, winced at the residual shock when he first took her hand.

  The ballroom filled with couples and sets as the older guests joined in. Now that Amos no longer had her attention, she turned to catch sight of her would-be fiancé. She could have laughed at the thought of Uncle Samwell setting up an alliance with the Colonel. He was older than her father, and he was so thick and stiff that his bow was like that of a marionette, a straight, infinitesimal dip of his upper body in a straight line. What would he want with her, when he had such a magnificent creature on his arm? She wasn’t a fool; of course she knew that he would not throw over his mistress for a wife, but it made little sense for him to ally himself with the disgraced Mederos family. And certainly, she would not be interested in such an alliance.

  She wondered if he knew she was present. He never approached her, and she tried to keep turned away from him if ever she were in danger of catching his eye, thought it was clear there was little danger of that – the Colonel was here to be seen, not to see. That was fine with Tesara too. She didn’t want him to see her.

  She applied herself to the dance and listened to the buzz of conversation that rose around her as she danced down the line. There was much speculation as to whether the Idercis had invited just the Colonel and not his lovely companion, and whether Mrs Iderci had found herself outfoxed.

  “This is what happens when you let just anyone in,” a girl across the set said with a laugh.

  Tesara completed her graceful turn and just smiled.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  The song ended and they all clapped, and then the set broke up into couples. Dantes gave her his arm and they walked to the refreshments. The gossip continued around them, everyone either scandalized or thinking it a good joke.

  “What do you think of the infamous pair?” Elenor asked the group at large, her eyes bright. She sipped her punch.

  “Infamous indeed,” Jax said. “I find such brazenness disgusting.”

  Tesara stiffened. He’s so sure of himself, she thought. She twirled her punch cup in her fingers. “I think they like the attention and care not a whit for the censure,” she said daringly. “Which makes them a little admirable.” After all, one should respect one’s fiancé.

  There was a startled response from the group.

  “Admirable!” said the girl who had remarked on letting just anyone in. “I can hardly think it admirable.”

  Elenor tried to shush her but Tesara felt emboldened. Perhaps it was the gossip aimed at someone else for once, or perhaps it was the punch, but she said, “Sometimes, who a person is has nothing to do with who society says they are. And there isn’t a thing you can do about it except not care a fig.”

  There was an uncomfortable pause.

  “But one must care,” the girl said, her brow wrinkled. “If no one cared, they could do whatever they wanted, no matter what anyone else thought. But then, they wouldn’t act right.”

  “Perhaps what Miss Mederos means is that acting in accordance to society’s strictures and acting right are two different things,” said Jax. Tesara eyed him warily. She had not expected support from such a quarter. She was just about to thank him when he added, “But as comforting as such a sentiment is, it is in essence misguided. If no one cared, we all would do whatever we wanted. Without censure, society falls apart. Things break up. Then chaos rushes in and people lose their place. Then where would we all be? No better than savages.”

  She struggled to speak, willing the angry tears not to fall. “How convenient, that society’s censure meets your approval. But what if you should make one misstep that brings you out of society’s favor that isn’t due to any fault of your own?”

  “But it would be my fault,” he said with serene self-confidence. “I don’t blame my misfortunes on others. I hold only myself accountable.”

  That hit home, as she knew he had meant it to.

  “You are the captain of your fate, ensign?” she said. “Wholly? There is no one you answer to, who by his own fallibility and human nature causes you to fall into misstep?”

  He laughed. “There is no such officer in Port Saint Frey who would make such a mistake.”

  “Really?” she said. “Not even Colonel Talios?”

  His face grew red and thunderous. “He is army, not navy. I thought we were speaking of navy,” he said. “I have no opinion of the army. The army may all do as it pleases.”

  Elenor grabbed his arm. “The music is striking up again,” she said. “Let’s all dance. Please, Jax.”

  They all rushed off in a swirl of silk, taffeta, and black evening coats, leaving her all alone.

  Except for Amos. He had left his friends and returned, his hair disheveled, his coat unbuttoned. She had blamed him for being drunk before; now he really was drunk. He swayed a little.

  “I know you did something,” he said, his voice thick.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped, and edged away.

  “You know.” He came closer to her. He gave her bare arm a little caress. She shuddered with disgust and shook off his hand. “You know, you should be nicer to me. It could be good for you.”

  “I highly doubt that,” she said. Damned fingers, she thought. They were inert, the power used up. If she had known he would be like this now, she would not have wasted the charge on his earlier insults. She gathered up her skirts to walk away when he said, following close behind her,

  “Listen. The wind’s died down. Perhaps we could take a turn in the garden.”

  She laughed, a short burst, and he turned as red as Jax had turned a moment before.

  “You don’t have to be rude,” he said, a whine in his voice. “I didn’t have to dance with you. The least you could do now is – be nice.”

  “Oh, so I owe you? A thousand pardons, Amos, I didn’t realize that one set made me yours forever. I’ll have my parents post the notices.”

  He went from red to white so quickly she was disgusted at his transparency.

  “Go,” she ordered, curt. “I don’t want to spark with you. I have more important things to do tonight.” Let him guess at what that was – she had
no more interest in Amos Kerrill.

  “You’ll regret this,” he said, hoarse. “I’ll see to it. House Mederos will be dead and disgraced, not just in Port Saint Frey but in Ravenne and everywhere else.”

  She drained her punch in one gulp and set down her cup.

  “You idiot, Amos,” she said. She leaned in closer and whispered. “You’re too late. I have nothing left to lose.”

  She stamped her foot hard on his expensive shoe, catching him in the instep. He groaned and doubled over, and she left him there as she marched to the entrance of the next gallery.

  “Well done,” came a lustrous voice.

  Tesara whirled, her silk whispering around her. Colonel Talios’s mistress stood near the ballroom entrance, her dark red lips curved in an amused smile. She stood leaning against the wall as casually as a man would, her arms folded and one leg propped up. She looked Tesara up and down exactly as a man would, too, and Tesara felt all of her senses prickle, from the top of her head to the bottom of her toes.

  “Thank you,” Tesara said, managing not to stutter.

  Mrs Fayres pushed away from the wall and sauntered over to her. “Is that your play tonight?” she asked.

  My God, she knows. “I beg your pardon?” Tesara said, panic about to overcome her.

  “You told the puppy you had better things to do. Of course, that means gambling. Is that your play tonight?”

  The invitation was given with a knowing look. Tesara gave her the same look back. “Yes,” she said.

  Mrs Fayres offered her arm and Tesara took it. It was exactly like being escorted by a gentleman, albeit one whose scent was a simple musky rose.

  “I think we’re going to get along quite well,” the Colonel’s mistress said.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  “Jacobet,” Mrs Fayres said. “I’ve brought a friend.” The Colonel looked up at them. He sat with another couple. That gentleman was older than the Colonel, but his companion was even younger than Mrs Fayres, though a few years older than Tesara. Her hair was bleached and straw-like, and her eyes were aggressively outlined in kohl.

  “I was wondering where you were, my pet,” Colonel Talios said. “One question – does she play?”

  Everyone at the table tittered suggestively. Tesara held out her hand to the colonel, her chin raised.

  “Tesara Mederos,” she said. “You must be Colonel Talios.”

  The Colonel’s expression changed, as did that of everyone at the table. The charged silence was broken by Mrs Fayres’ low, melodic laugh.

  “I’d say she does play, Jacobet,” she said. “This is Bunny and Firth.” She gave a casual wave to the other couple. Tesara didn’t know which one was Bunny.

  “It’s hardly going to be worth it,” Bunny or Firth muttered. “Girl’s got no more skin in the game than a plucked chicken.”

  “Jacobet, stake her,” Mrs Fayres said. “It’s only the right thing to do.”

  The Colonel gave Tesara a fawning smile. She gave him an equally insincere one back. He pushed over a stack of coins – nothing more silver than a half guilder and only three of those. Clearly he didn’t mean to impress his bride with his largesse. Ah, well. It sweetened her pot enough to draw the game out for a few more hands before she started to win. With great ostentation she added his money to her own small stake and stacked her coins with deliberation.

  The game began. Bunny, as she decided to designate the other gentleman, cut the cards and Firth rapped them when he slid them over. Mrs Fayres sat behind the Colonel and rested her elbow on her knee, watching with intent.

  Tesara fanned the well-worn cards and almost cried, her first hand was that good. Just this one, she told herself. I just want to win one. She threw in a coin with enthusiasm. She saw instantly that Bunny had no sense of play, and Firth was either drunk or naturally silly, and so neither would bet. In short order, she had won.

  “Oh, good!” she said, pulling in her winnings, despite Bunny’s glare. “You didn’t let me win, did you?”

  Firth snorted and rolled her eyes. Bunny turned and muttered something at her. The Colonel watched her with narrowed eyes, and then lit a thin cigar, the acrid smoke making Tesara cough a little, though she tried to hide it. Mrs Fayres smiled enigmatically, but said nothing.

  Two hands later Tesara had to hide her laughter. The Colonel had a better opinion of his skill than was entirely accurate, and Bunny and Firth were trying to cheat, but were so bad at it that they were terribly transparent. She could see the edge of a card slipping out under Bunny’s sleeve and was tempted to push it back in for him. If only I were playing against real gamblers, like Terk, she thought. This was like stealing candy from very large, spoiled, and drunken babies.

  Eventually though, the world slipped away and her whole attention was absorbed by the table and the game. She had a vague awareness of people gathering around to watch, and she knew she needed to start making some obvious mistakes and lose soon, so that her reputation as a scatterbrain would be sealed, but she couldn’t bear to bring it to an end. One more hand, she kept telling herself, fanning the cards and making her bets. It was a rhythm, like dancing, and Mrs Fayres looked as if she were enjoying herself immensely. She had an amused half-smile on her face, and she often patted the Colonel on the shoulder when he won or in a commiserating way when he botched a hand. She clearly had experience humoring him. Tesara wondered how she could be amorous with the man, but then, as a mistress, no doubt she had other skills in that department. It’s not a job I would want, she thought.

  The cold wet wind coming in from the garden caught her attention and she looked up, surprised out of her concentration.

  “Who left the window open?” Firth shuddered with great exaggeration, and the Colonel muttered something about a careless hostess. The window banged back and forth, and voices exclaimed at the sound. The drapery billowed into the room.

  “Where is a servant to take care of this?” snapped a silver-haired gentleman, resplendent in a midnight blue coat and fawn trousers.

  There were no servants, and the doors to the hall had been closed. Tesara vaguely remembered that someone had complained about the noise coming from the dancing as the party had entered into full swing.

  The window banged again, and everyone jumped.

  “For the devil’s sake, won’t someone call a servant to close the damn window!” the gentleman cried.

  “I’ll do it myself, if only to stop your complaining,” another gentleman said, and he marched over with the air of someone making a great sacrifice.

  A figure came out from behind the drapes, and halted him in his tracks. Silence fell, a profound silence, broken only by the small gasps of women.

  The figure was a young man with a red handkerchief over his face, and two large, silver-chased pistols cocked and aimed straight at the bold gentleman’s heart. The bandit gestured with the pistol ever so slightly and the bold gentleman fell back and sat down, fumbling behind himself for a spindly-legged chair. It was unnerving, the way the young man’s blue eyes peered through the eyeholes, as if he stood very far behind the mask.

  “What –what do you want?” the gentleman stuttered. The bandit said nothing, only swept the room. Tesara saw Bunny furtively cover his stake and part of hers and pull it back toward him. She laid a hand on his wrist.

  “Are you mad?” she whispered. “He’ll kill you. It’s just money. Leave it.”

  As if he heard her, the bandit swept both pistols toward her. She felt as if her heart would stop. Then he went over to the bold gentleman and with no emotion or speech, he held one pistol straight at the man’s head. A woman began to sob. The bold gentleman grew very still. No one else moved.

  The bandit looked straight at Tesara and jerked his head around the room. Tesara took the hint. She pushed to her feet and began to sweep up money from the table into her reticule. The coins were too heavy so she left them and gathered up the paper notes from her table and then the others, going from table to table.

  Wh
en they saw what she was doing, people reacted according to their natures, some grabbing for their cash, and others pushing it at her.

  “Make him go away, make him go away,” the woman sobbed, pushing her pile at Tesara. It included a glittering diamond hair clip. She bit her lip and left it behind when she grabbed the cash.

  “Don’t worry,” she hushed her. The woman was Mrs Lupiere; her husband was the hapless gentleman with the gun to his head. Mrs Lupiere had snubbed Tesara on the Mile her first week home but Tesara couldn’t feel much anger at her. “If we all stay calm, nothing will happen.”

  No one dared move for the door. The music and revelry continued on in the next gallery over, a world away while they were being robbed. Tesara hurriedly cleared the last table and brought the reticule over to the bandit. She looped the cord of the purse over the man’s arm; even with just paper bills it was weighted down. The man gave her a small courtly nod.

  And then he reached out, turned her around so her back was pressed against him, one arm holding her tight up against him and the other pointing the pistol straight out. She almost choked from the pressure.

  She looked straight at the mistress. The woman had a most interested expression, as if she were enjoying the spectacle and wondering about it.

  “Here now,” said the bold man, still putting up the good fight. “You got what you came for. Let the girl go.”

  The bandit said nothing, just stepped backward toward the window, pulling Tesara with him.

  “Good God! Don’t let him go! Call the watch!”

  “Quick! Rush him!”

  The pistol went off next to Tesara’s ear and she screamed involuntarily. So did most of the women and more than a few of the men. The plaster on the far wall cracked, and a bit of gilding came rattling down onto the parquet floor. Any plans to rush the bandit were immediately put on hold, but the music stopped now and she could hear rising voices from outside the room. The bandit didn’t wait. He shoved her into the crowd and she stumbled into the men just as they made a rush for him, all arms and legs a-tangle. By the time they regained their feet, the bandit was gone.