Chapter Eighteen #2
“Because as you know, our coverture laws decree that the assets of a married woman become the property of her husband as soon as they are married,” Ada explained. “My inheritance, everything I own? It will no longer belong to me, ever again.”
Vesper had heard rumors of the city’s archaic coverture laws, but never before had they been explained to her in such stark terms. She suddenly looked at Ada with a very different perspective.
All her life, Vesper had had to work for everything she had; all her life she’d felt trapped by her socioeconomic status.
But here was Ada, a young woman who had access to immense wealth and power, and she was trapped too.
Vesper found herself thinking of the birds she’d seen at the Belvers’ aviary.
Maybe women were like caged birds. Some of the cages might be large and elegant, others might be small and crude, but a cage was still a cage.
“You know, high society gossips about spinsters,” Ada murmured, “but I actually think I would have been happy as one. People might have talked about me, but at least I would have been free.”
Vesper didn’t know what to say to that.
Ada sighed. “I should probably go.” She looked over her shoulder. “My mother and I are supposed to have tea with Sarah Levant and her mother.”
Involuntarily, Vesper grimaced, which made Ada laugh.
“You’ve met Sarah, then?”
“At the polo match.” Vesper nodded. “She wasn’t very kind.”
For the first time, Ada’s expression turned sly. “Oh, I imagine not,” she said. “She’s probably quite jealous of you.”
“Jealous?” Vesper frowned. “Why on earth would Sarah Levant be jealous of me?”
“Didn’t you know?” One of Ada’s brows rose. “Maximilian courted her last year. It went on for a while, but then it abruptly ended without much fanfare. No one really knows why.”
Vesper chewed on her lip.
Ada looked over her shoulder again. “I’d better start walking toward the end of the street,” she said. “My coach can’t come down here.” She gave Vesper a half smile. “It was good to see you, and thank you for listening.”
Vesper watched Ada until she’d disappeared into the crowd and out of sight.
Even when she was gone though, her words echoed.
Maximilian had courted Sarah Levant? They came from the same world, she supposed, but was that really the kind of girl he liked?
She couldn’t explain the disappointment she felt, the hard twist in her stomach.
She reminded herself that who Maximilian courted was none of her business.
He was her employer, and his personal life was none of her concern.
She returned to the area where the scarecrow competition was happening, but it seemed Tom and the rest of the Globe’s staff had already moved on. Vesper opted to continue meandering down the street. She was eyeing a table with several hand-painted earrings, when she heard a commotion.
A small group of men was making its way through the crowd. One quick look at their clothes told Vesper they were mostly laborers. Several of them were holding up crudely painted signs. She read them:
MORE SCHOOLS, LESS JAILS!
AN INJURY TO ONE IS AN INJURY TO ALL!
EIGHT HOURS WORK, EIGHT HOURS SLEEP, EIGHT HOURS LEISURE!
None of the men were speaking, but each of them held grim expressions as their procession moved down the road with their signs held high.
Vesper watched them until they were out of sight, then continued down the street.
That was the kind of thing her father might’ve done.
She’d just noticed another table covered in various home-baked goods.
An old woman was sitting behind it in a chair, speaking to a tall young man with unmistakable dark curls. Vesper drew in a sharp breath.
“Mr. Kite?”
The sorcerer turned, spotted her, then smiled. “Miss Evans.” He tipped his hat. “This is auspicious timing. Please, come join us.”
Vesper sidled up to the baked goods table. Maximilian gestured at an assortment of pies.
“I have a serious dilemma,” he explained. “This kind woman tells me her pies are the best in Basalton, but I can’t decide between the pumpkin and the sweet potato pie. Their flavor profiles are similar, but—”
“They’re not similar,” said Vesper seriously. “Pumpkin’s gross. Sweet potato is the one to get.”
Maximilian winked. “Much obliged.” To the old woman, he said: “I’ll take two, please.” He turned back to Vesper while the woman packed the pies into a brown paper bag. “So, what are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same.”
Maximilian gestured. “I’m here for the desserts.”
Vesper raised a brow. “Have you ever tried baking something yourself?”
“Myself?” Maximilian wrinkled his nose. “Why in heavens would I do that? I have enchantments, and I have money. That suits me just fine.”
Vesper’s eyes landed on a small stack of wrapped raspberry tartlets. Maximilian followed her gaze, then smiled.
“Didn’t you tell me that your favorite dessert was a raspberry tartlet?” he asked slyly.
Vesper looked up. “Yes, but—”
“I’ll take two of those as well,” he told the woman. “One for her, and one for me.”
“This really isn’t necessary,” Vesper said as he handed her one.
“Nonsense.” Maximilian gave the woman a ten-gild bill and took the bag of pies from her.
“We’ll call it a business meal. I’m actually glad we ran into each other; we can discuss the progress of our investigation.
” He gestured, and they headed down the road.
Vesper tucked her wrapped tartlet carefully into her satchel.
“So,” he said as they walked. “How are we doing on Belver?”
Vesper tugged on her collar. “No change.” She’d already told him about what she’d found in Belver’s office. “We’re basically still stuck. We know Belver is very likely responsible for Francis’s death, but we’re missing proof.”
Maximilian bit into his tartlet and licked a bit of raspberry off his bottom lip.
“We could see about getting another invite to the Belvers’ house?
” he suggested. “Mrs. Belver seemed to take a shine to you, and after that mishap with the aviary, I’m told she was quite embarrassed.
Surely, she’d host us for dinner or tea. ”
“Mrs. Belver liked me,” Vesper agreed, “but I don’t think Mr. Belver would allow me back in their house.
I think he knows I was in his office. Besides, even if by some miracle I was able to get back in, I’d be shocked if he hasn’t already destroyed any evidence linking him and Francis, including the prototype. ”
“Then we’ll have to go with the next best thing,” said Maximilian.
“Which is?”
“We tell him we know what he did and see if we can scare him into confessing.”
Vesper nodded. “But how would we—?” She stopped short.