“I shall have to refit the sleeve, and the right glove as well.”
Karigan stood patiently as the seamstress’ assistants took measurements, and tweaked and adjusted the fabric with pins.
“I shall have the dress and its accoutrements delivered in the morning,” Mistress dela Enfande told Karigan and Mirriam. Then her gaze turned on Karigan alone. “You, Miss Goodgrave, shall tell me how the design is received, especially by those from the Capital, and you will tell me what they are wearing, every detail. Yes?”
“Um, yes,” Karigan replied. She had a good eye for such things, having grown up a textile merchant’s daughter, but thought she might be focused on other matters at Dr. Silk’s party, such as portraying Professor Josston’s mad niece and not compromising her true identity.
Mistress dela Enfande and her young ladies took their leave, Mirriam hustling them out of Karigan’s room. Karigan closed the door after them and sprawled on her bed. She was of the decided opinion that these fittings were more exhausting than a sword training session with Arms Master Drent.
Her eyelids grew heavy, drooped, and finally closed. She drifted to sleep and dreamed of exquisitely attired cats dancing . . . or was it people dressed as exquisitely attired cats? They swept around a ballroom beneath a chandelier of shattered mirror shards that reflected fragmented light upon the dancers. A chronosphere appeared in her hand. It popped open, and the mechanical man inside, who resembled the professor, swiveled back and forth on his rotating disk tapping out random numbers with his cane.
Tap, tap, tap.
Karigan sensed time racing. Time, she was running out of it.
Tap, tap.
She sat up with a start, groggy and disoriented. She looked about, her gaze settling on the window where Cloudy the cat sat on the sill outside. He raised his paw and tapped the glass.
Oh, Karigan thought with a chuckle, the source of my dream.
She was going to let the cat in, but at that moment Mirriam entered her room, and Cloudy leaped out of sight.
“Miss Goodgrave,” Mirriam said, “you are late!”
Karigan raised her eyebrows. Late? Was she still dreaming?
“For what?” she asked with a yawn.
“Why, the midday meal. Didn’t you hear the bells?”
No, she had not. “I’ll be down in a moment.”
Mirriam nodded, giving Karigan an assessing look that said much without her having to actually say a word. Then she left.
Karigan shook her muddled head. What had she been dreaming about? Something about cats. And running out of time. She laughed.
It was too bad Mirriam had arrived when she had, Karigan would have liked to have invited Cloudy in for a scritch. Hopefully the housekeeper hadn’t permanently scared him off.
At last she rose, stretched, and left her room before Mirriam could return and scold her for being late.
CARRIAGE RIDE
The hired carriage sent by Dr. Silk arrived precisely as the city bells pealed out seven hour. Lorine ushered Karigan from her bed chamber. Clad in her midnight blue gown, Karigan attempted to peer beneath the bottom fringe of her veil so she would not miss a step as she descended the staircase. She steadied herself with one velvet gloved hand on the railing, and her bonewood clasped in the other.
No, she was not leaving the bonewood behind. Even if Mender Samuels knew she didn’t need it, the other attendees at the party wouldn’t know. At least she did not have to fuss with a purse. It was considered crass, she learned, for a woman of Preferred status to carry one, and it was left to her escort, whether a servant or a gentleman, to handle the lady’s purse.
It was, Karigan thought, just another way for the empire to constrain its women. In her case, she possessed no coins so the point was moot. However she felt about the empire’s controlling even the use of purses by its women, it was a relief not to have to tote around a useless accessory all evening.
There appeared to be a small reception committee waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, consisting of Mirriam, Grott, the professor, and Cade. Cade looked ill at ease in a stiff woolen suit. It appeared to be a faded brown, and too bulky on him as though acquired second hand. It did not flatter him. He cast her nervous glances, but refused to hold her gaze. Not that doing so was easy with her gauzy veil between them.
“Well, well!” the professor exclaimed in a jovial tone. He, in contrast, cut a dashing figure in a well-tailored suit of deep gray. “You look lovely tonight, my dear, brighter than the stars, doesn’t she, Cade.”
Cade mumbled something unintelligible.
The professor turned to his staff. “I need a moment alone with my niece and protégé.”
“But Dr. Silk’s carriage awaits,” Mirriam protested.
“And it can continue to wait. Now shoo.” He did not speak again until only he, Karigan, and Cade remained in the foyer. In a low voice he told Karigan, “Remember, you are my niece from the asylum. You won’t even have to act insane for them to believe it. They’ve heard it, it is your reputation, and that is enough. If in the unlikely event it is not, and you find yourself in an awkward situation? Then . . . act mad.”
“But how?”
The professor shrugged. “Be creative, my dear. And be alert. As I mentioned before, Silk is wily and may try to extract information of one kind or another from you. Cade will be your constant companion and will divert Silk as necessary. He will look after you.”
Karigan flicked her gaze at Cade. Really? He was having enough trouble just looking at her now.