Page 3 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
I wait under a tree by the schoolhouse until a bell rings and a line of children file out. As we walk home, my brother David tells me a few things he learned today—about a battle that occurred near here, four centuries ago, and about the method by which plants transform sunlight into food for themselves.
When we crest the low rise and see our farm, I frown. There’s a strange horse tied by the gate, its head hanging low in the gray rain. No one has bothered to offer it shelter.
“David, see to that horse,” I tell him as we pass through the gate. The other children run off toward the barn to visit the animals before going in the house, but David hands me his lunch pail and moves to take the beast’s bridle.
The horse doesn’t belong to Dorothy, the girl who looks after my littlest siblings. Her family’s farm is small—pigs mostly, and they live so close to us that she always walks over, no matter the weather. Sometimes she brings her dog along—a tiny black terrier, a delight to the children. Until the dog’s first visit, my siblings had never seen an animal whose purpose wasn’t work or food. Dorothy has never told me where the dog came from, or why her parents let her keep it. She’s an only child, so maybe they thought she needed companionship.
I trudge into the farmhouse, set down David’s lunch pail, and scrape my boots on the mat before pulling them off and wedging them into the pile of shoes by the door. Humid air hangs thick in the hallway, tinged with the savory-stale reek of bacon from this morning’s breakfast. The steady drumbeat of rain on the roof makes me nervous. I’ve already got buckets in the attic bedroom, catching drips. Any more leaks, and I won’t have a dry place to sleep.
As I start to take off my cape, I realize my mistake.
I always change out of my maid’s uniform when I leave Lord Drosselmeyer’s house. The blue skirts don’t reach my knee, and the neckline shows a generous amount of cleavage. They’re absurdly immodest uniforms by the standards of this region, and draw quite a bit of admiration from Drosselmeyer’s male patrons when they come to visit.
This is the first time I’ve forgotten to change. I was so eager, first for knowledge and then for escape, that I forgot to put on my plain brown dress. And now I’m in trouble.
Maybe I can slip upstairs and change into something else before Mam or Pap notice me—
“Alice?” Mam leans into the hallway from the front room. Her pinched face looks more drawn than usual. “What’s taking so long? Come on, girl. Get in here.”
She’s keeping her tone under control, refraining from the names she typically calls me. Which means wedohave a guest.
When I don’t move at once, she reaches out and grabs my shoulder with an impatient huff, dragging me forward into the shabby sitting room, which also serves as a work area, a gathering space, and my father’s bedroom when he falls asleep drunk on the threadbare sofa.
Pap is more or less sober at the moment, sitting in a chair across from a heavyset man with greasy black hair and a greasier smile.
“There she is.” The man rises and fiddles with the bristly black scruff under his chin as he surveys me. “Well, take off the cape, girl. Let’s have a look at you.”
“I’d rather keep it on, thank you,” I reply, but Mam snarls under her breath, “Don’t be rude!” and pulls the cape off me.
Alarm flashes into Pap’s eyes at the sight of my uniform. Little does he know I’ve worn far more scandalous things, like the scanty blue silks Caer gave me on that wonderful night when he and I fought, played games, and read books together before cuddling in the nest he made us.
I want him, I miss him…
The scruffy, greasy man is grinning wider, a lecherous light in his eyes. I’ve seen that light in Fae eyes before, but it was different, somehow. Did I welcome it only because my Fae captors were beautiful, and this man is rather revolting? Is that the only difference between their lust and his? Am I that vulnerable to beauty?
Pap has recovered his powers of speech. He clears his throat and says, “This is Mr. Gulch, the tavern-keeper in town.”
“How do you do,” I say, in as flat a tone as I can manage. Pap probably owes this man money. I can think of no other reason why he’d be here.
“Call me Paul.” Mr. Gulch scoops up my hand and gives my knuckles several bristly, ale-scented kisses. He doesn’t release my hand, but engulfs it in both of his. “My dear wife recently passed on, and I’m looking for a good hardworking girl to share my bed and my business.”
Mam chokes a little at the vulgarity. “An offer of marriage, Alice. He’s proposing to marry you.”
“Is he?” Fat chance of that happening.
“It’s time we found you a good place,” Pap adds. “A settled place. People are beginning to talk about you working at Lord Drosselmeyer’s, and with good reason, it seems, judging by what I see.”
“And they’ll talk less when I’m a tavern-keeper’s wife?” I lift an eyebrow.
“Maybe, maybe not. I won’t lie, you’ll collect a king’s ransom in tips with those fine titties,” chuckles Gulch.
My father pales a little, but he only says, “Mr. Gulch and I have already come to an arrangement.”
Until he said that, I thought I had a choice—that it was only a matter of toying with this man for a moment before rejecting him. With my father’s mention of the word “arrangement,” fear twitches in my chest. “But I work for Lord Drosselmeyer. You need the money I make.”
Pap won’t meet my eyes, and Mam is still standing just behind me, so I can’t see her face. When I turn, she looks away, her lips pinned together.
“Truth is, your father’s indebted to me,” says Gulch. “Run up quite the bill at the tavern, he has. I told him, I says, ‘Don’t worry about it for a moment. You and I, we’ll settle up square, call it even—I’ll marry your daughter, and then we’ll be all right, seeing as we’re family.’ I’ll forget the debt, and your pappy here will drink free for a year. We’ll give your family your tips for the twelve-month, see? I’m always one for helpin’ out my neighbors.”
