Page 55 of A Whisper in the Walls

“My name is Nan, my lady.”

“Old-fashioned. You should know with a name like that,” Tessa Brood said, smirking slightly. “All right. I will wear this dress for the first run of private shows, but tell Kersey I demand an alternative before the full house shows begin. That’s when the reviews happen, and I’ll not be caught in the wrong dress for the write-up. That should give her ample time to reconsider my wardrobe.”

Nevelyn bit her lip nervously. “I’m sorry, my lady, but you want me to tell her? She’s my superior. I’ll be fired if I suggest…”

“Oh, very well.” Tessa Brood sighed. She ran a finger along one of the dress’s laces. “I will be the one to inform her, so that you can save your precious skin. I suppose you’ve been help enough. Though, I might have gone on thinking this was pretty if you hadn’t opened your mouth.”

“Of course, my lady. Apologies again. I didn’t know you were there.”

“And yet,” Tessa Brood noted, “that is when we are most honest, is it not? When we think that no one else will hear us? I will always appreciate someone who tells the truth.”

There it was. The first small sense of trust between them. Nevelyn stood there until Tessa Brood waved her away with one of the most demeaning gestures she’d ever seen.

“Out. I’ve rehearsals.”

Nevelyn fled, back into the dark labyrinth below the stage. She could feel the quiet rush of what had just happened snaking over her skin. There were goose bumps running down both of her arms. She had to take a moment to collect herself outside the seamstress room before entering. John and Faith were arguing about some new book that was being published. Kersey glanced up briefly as Nevelyn took her seat.

“Well? Was the priss satisfied?”

Nevelyn nodded. “No complaints, madam.”

That earned a snort. “Give her a few days. I’m sure she’ll find something to whine about.”

“Wine?” Faith added from across the table. “I’m pretty sure Edna drank it all.”

That had the group howling with laughter. Even Nevelyn smirked. The next part of the game was already in motion. She had Tessa Brood right where she wanted her.

Now it was time to attend to Kersey.

* * *

Nevelyn had never been a spy. She was no trained rogue. But it wasn’t all that difficult to avoid Kersey’s notice. The old crone lived in her own, very specific world, and rarely engaged with anything that existed beyond that scope. For the next few days, Nevelyn observed every action she could. Kersey walked home at the same time every afternoon. She paused at the same three stalls, bought the same food, the same candles, the same everything. Not once did she depart from her routine. It was like watching someone who’d figured out what they liked about the world a few decades ago and now went about the business of only enjoying those things.

The woman lived in a basement apartment, adjoined to a much larger house that apparently belonged to her nephew. The nephew was a successful sea trader who’d been kind enough to take in his old and widowed aunt. Nevelyn did not have the time to look through public documents, but she suspected that Kersey paid a reduced fee to live there. Her interactions with the family living above her were minimal. Her nephew appeared to be very busy with work. His wife did not care much for Kersey. Only their daughter visited, a small girl with bright red hair. She’d talk a little each day with Kersey before fleeing back to the comforts of the house above.

Nevelyn noted each interaction and found the visits annoyingly inconsistent. There was no way to predict when the girl might come. It seemed that only the hours after bedtime were safe, and Kersey’s own bedtime was not much later. A small window of opportunity, perhaps?

At night, Nevelyn used her magic to avoid notice. Turning the heart necklace to the shadowed side, she would cast her spell out in every direction; then she set herself up in the alleyway across from Kersey’s apartment and watched through a small, square window. Kersey would always read two chapters of whatever book she was enjoying. She would listen to a bit of music, and then she would tuck in for the evening. Again, the routine did not vary. Every night was the same.

Nevelyn only unearthed something useful by accident.

On the first two nights, she abandoned her post to return home. There wasn’t much point to watching an old lady’s bedroom door—knowing her to be asleep. And she knew the suspended dress in her apartment would not finish itself. Both nights, she’d needed to cast soothing charms on her wrist joints. The amount of work was starting to wear on her bones, but a little boon of magic allowed her to press on past the pain. She was satisfied with her progress.

On the third night, however, she unintentionally fell asleep in the alleyway. Exhaustion swept her into dreaming, in spite of the discomfort and the danger. She’d woken up in the predawn hours, startled by her lapse in judgment. There was no point in rushing home. She’d likely be made fun of for wearing the same clothes, but at least it provided an opportunity to follow Kersey’s morning routine.

The woman got dressed. She drank tea. She returned to her bedroom. And she never came back out. Nevelyn sat there, growing more and more uncomfortable with each minute that passed. The sun was rising. The streets to her left and right stirred to life.

Where was the old crone?

Enough time passed that she simply had to leave. She could not afford to be late herself. Nevelyn hurried through the streets, trying to ignore the slightly stale scent of her clothing. She arrived breathless and a little late at the playhouse. Thankfully, John and Faith were standing over by the mail wall, bickering about something. Nevelyn took advantage of their distraction, slipping downstairs. She turned the corner into the seamstress room and nearly leapt straight out of her skin. Her heart raced double. Kersey looked up in surprise.

“Gods, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, girl.”

Nevelyn tried to recover and ended up stammering. “I’m… I’m sorry. I just didn’t mean to be late, and I didn’t want you to be mad.”

Kersey frowned. “You’re just a few minutes late, girl. Just because you work in a playhouse doesn’t mean you have to act all dramatic about things. Go on. Grab your needles.”

Nevelyn obeyed. She could not understand how this was possible. She’d watched the woman return to her bedroom. There hadn’t been any sign of departure at all. No one had come or gone through the front door to her apartment. So how had she beaten Nevelyn here?

---