Work Text:
I tripped over my own coat lying on the walk-in closet floor. My best coat: a brilliant thing with a built-in scarf and gloves along with the hood. Not one part of the body was vulnerable to the wind in that coat. Which I had just tripped over in my disgusting muddy boots after walking two miles home in the rain from the bar.
I stood up cautiously, respecting the fact that I was slightly tipsy. I jerked off the light rain jacket I’d worn out on the pleasant autumn night and shoved it on a hanger, then hung my wonderful coat back up, wiping the mud off it with my shirt sleeve. A single brown button was missing.
“Damn it, damn . . .” I fell back on my knees. With my left hand I scoured the floor for it and held my right up as a source of light. The lightning flicked from the large skein in my collarbone, down my arm, through my fingers and out to toss a vague glow on the closet. I turned my palm down to better see the floor.
The closet door opened. “Maeve?”
“Yes, yes, I’m tracking mud,” I admitted gruffly to my brother, Evan. “Hurrah for that. I’ll need you to sew up my good coat when I find the button.”
“Maeve,” he repeated, his voice slightly shaking.
“What’s wrong?” I stood immediately.
I held my palm out slightly, still frizzling with purple flashes of electricity. His face looked more angular than usual in that light, his mouth twisted into a frown and his hazel eyes wide with confusion too strong for so late at night. The house was dark, but he hadn’t carried a candle with him. Evan was afraid of the dark.
Suddenly I heard a sharp cry and tore my eyes from his face. It took me a moment to register what I saw cradled in his ginger arms.
“A baby?!” I exclaimed. “Where the hell did you get a baby?!” There was no one living in our house save the two of us; our parents having passed and us both unwed. No close neighbors I knew of had a baby.
“The porch. I found her in a basket.”
“Was there a note?”
“No. Not even a name written anywhere.”
“Who would give us a baby?!”
“Someone poor?” He shrugged.
“Why would someone bother carrying a baby to term if she were too poor to take care of it? Abortions are free. And look at the lovely blanket she’s wrapped in. Did that come with the basket?”
“Yes, actually.”
I stared at the baby for a moment as Evan rocked her. “You’re not . . .”
“Obviously I’m not the father.” He saw the tentative look on my face. “I’ve never even been kissed on the lips, not even by Genevieve.”
I snorted slightly at the very idea of my brother being kissed by my best friend. Genevieve Carrault was the closest thing I had to a sister, but she would never be my sister-in-law. The Vialla family might only have a single house and no more servants to its name, but we were nobility, and I wouldn’t dare let a marriage to a working-class commoner like Carrault touch my parents’ name. “You’d better not be.”
“I know. Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I do.” I put a hand on his shoulder and smiled.
------------------------------------------------------------------
“I was out drinking with friends. Candace Ruth, Vivian Queen, and Venus Farmer were with me until midnight. Other people saw me.”
This was easily checked and cross-referenced and confirmed. Easily, though it took some time.
“After I got home, I saw the baby, and immediately set out to find its parents. I asked around the town square. That was when I found Mr. Cornelius Meade.”
A striking man. Hair black and flowing like oil, on charming, gracile shoulders covered in gold fabric that gleamed like his tear-filled eyes in that pre-dawn light. He was out in nightclothes; the undoneness of his natural looks and bare arms adding to the beauty of his expertly carved bones and tense muscles. His energetic movements matched my own, and he had accosted me with superior desperation.
“He said, ‘Have you seen a little girl?’
“’A baby?’ I asked him, and he started sobbing. We went to my house and Evan gave him his child, who was the only thing he had left of his late wife, as he explained to me. He left after he had the child and regained his composure.” And it would have been a supreme pleasure to come to the rescue of such a lovely young widow, if he hadn’t ended up being a damned little snake. “I suppose he came directly to you, Officer, and had Evan and I arrested.”
My story and tight alibi checked out. I was quickly and efficiently not released for eight entire miserable hours of police interrogation. Finally, they had nothing else to accost me with, and were forced by my obvious innocence to let me go.
Evan was still held on the suspicion of kidnapping.
------------------------------------------------------------------
I found Genevieve Carrault on my porch. She’s medium height, like me, and was dressed in her usual bright-orange coat. She only had the one, which doubled as her construction-worker uniform—I mused that I ought to get her another for her birthday. She turned when I approached. “There you are! I’ve been knocking for half an hour, but Evan won’t let me in. What’s going on?”
“Praise Eve you’re here—Evan isn’t home.”
She blinked. “Where is he?”
“Jail.”
“Jail!” She pressed her palms together to smother the sudden electric sparks shooting from her fingertips. “How did it go so far?”
“A baby was dropped on our doorstep last night. I found her father, but the ungrateful bastard got Evan arrested for suspected kidnapping.”
“But he didn’t do it!”
“Thank you! Anyways, do you know how to break into a house?”
She blanched. “What? No. Why would you ask that?”
“Drat.” I rapped my fingers along the railing, anxious, tired bolts glinting against the stone. “I was hoping you could help me.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “I’ll do anything I can to help you and Evan. Whose house are we breaking into?”
“Mr. Cornelius Meade’s. The scene of the kidnapping.”
“. . . That’s a terrible idea.”
“There could be evidence there to exonerate Evan.”
“Which the police will find, should there be any,” she pointed out.
I wasn’t inclined to leave anything in their hands after the long, inefficient, miserable morning they’d forced me to endure. “Still.”
She shook her head. “I’m going to go visit Evan. I can’t imagine how terrified he must be right now.”
My heart twisted. “That’s a good plan. You’re good at cheering him up, and burglary is more of a one-woman stealth mission, anyways.”
“I should not let you go do that,” she sighed.
“You adore enabling me,” I reminded her, playfully bopping the top of her hat before disappearing inside to go disguise myself.
------------------------------------------------------------------
By the time I arrived I’d vaguely constructed a plan. I was disguised in some old overalls and strapped some tools I’d found under the sink to my belt. I knocked boldly on the front door.
Cornelius Meade had only seen me in the dark before, but I was still relieved when a young servant boy answered. He was short, and looked up at me with charming, large eyes. “Mister Meade is away at the moment, ma’am.”
“Quite alright, quite alright,” I told him confidently. Feigning confidence is everything. “Would you mind telling me whether your water closets are working?”
“Yes, ma’am, perfectly.”
“As I feared!” I shook my head. “We meant to turn them off, but one or two of the pipes aren’t cooperating. The sewers have been a bit overfilled, you see, and we need some time to have the workwomen get the muck out before we can put more in. I’ll need to manually put in a clog—a temporary clog—into your water closets. It will dissolve by itself in a few hours, and by then the workwomen will be done and all the toilets will flush fine.” I walked into the house without invitation, and the boy got out of my way.
“Ah, and you’re?—"
“Wandelaincourt, Evangeline Wandelaincourt at your humble service.” I quickly bowed and kissed his hand. The flustered boy was frozen, and I quickly found the water closet and faked some noises of plumbing work by banging lightly on the toilet. I exited, and he was still standing there.
In searching for the water closet, I’d determined the baby’s room was not on the ground floor. “You’ve a second water closet upstairs, I presume?”
The boy snapped back to his senses. “No, ma’am.”
“There isn’t! I could swear the records said there were two. You’ll surely let me take a peek to see for myself.” I mounted the staircase.
“Oh, no ma’am! I’m not to let anyone upstairs until the Chief Officer comes back . . .”
So, the crime scene hadn’t been examined yet! Lax of the police. They were doing a lazy job of finding the kidnapper, and my brother was sitting in a jail cell suffering for it. I clenched my fists to stem the sparks spilling out of my infuriated fingers, and I bit the inside of my cheek as I burned myself on them.
“The Chief Officer of the police? You don’t mean my own dear Officer Ducros?” I knew her name because it was mentioned a few times, in threatening tones, during my interrogation. “I wouldn’t mess up the crime scene!” Then I added hastily— “I mean, I assume that’s why I’m not allowed up there? I can’t think why else Ducros would care.”
I started for the stairs and interrupted the boy’s continued protests. “Unless she and Mr. Meade were having a love affair, hm?” Again, he was flustered into hesitating. I rushed up and saw two doors. Behind the first one was a small room adorned only with a cradle under a window.
The boy’s steps followed me up the steps, and I froze. I had hardly expected to get this far, but now only had a few moments. What clue could I manage to find in a few seconds that would incriminate a kidnapper?
Footprints were the first thing to spring to mind. I approached the cradle. There would have to be footprints next to it, or on the windowsill—
But no, the floor was wood and entirely clean. Only a single brown spot on it, and that was a button, not a smudge of useful mud.
. . . An oddly familiar brown button.
Out of time, I grabbed it, stood back up, shoved it into my overall’s pocket and pretended to be looking out the window. “You were right, no water closet!” I said cheerily. “Fine view from up here. Well, I’ll be off then, thank you.”
By that point the boy was glad to be rid of me, making my escape easy.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Feeling the button in my pocket, I was certain it was my own lost one. I fiddled with it silently and gravely as I walked to the jail. I asked for and was granted permission to see my brother without the presence of a guard.
Genevieve Carrault was pacing the room while Evan sat on a cot in the corner. “It will be alright, Evan. I’ll make it alright for you.”
“I am alright,” he said quietly. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“That’s right, because you’ll be out soon.” She took his hands in her callused ones and looked down softly at him.
I cleared my throat to announce my entrance. “I don’t know what to think!” I looked at Evan, then Carrault, then Evan again. I finally looked at the small space between them and declared with all the confidence and righteous anger I could muster, “I know you did it!”
Evan looked at me very keenly. Carrault exclaimed in a high voice, “No, he didn’t. We all know that.” Evan shifted his eyes to her.
I looked down. “He has no need to kidnap a baby,” I agreed.
“That’s right. The case against him must fall apart.” She was far too confident. I looked again at Evan. Even he seemed surprised at the strength of her faith in him.
“Then what did you mean, Maeve?” he asked me.
I pulled out the button. “The kidnapper was wearing my own good coat. The perfect one to conceal someone’s face, and it wouldn’t be conspicuous to wear about. Evan could have taken it. But why would he kidnap a baby, then immediately ask my help in returning it? He was framed—or perhaps I was framed and only saved by my alibi, seeing as the kidnapper wore my coat. Who would know I owned such a coat, and would know the layout of my house well enough to sneak into my closet and steal it without Evan, who was at home, noticing? Only a close friend or servant. We have no servants, and most of my friends were at the bar with me last night. Except you, Carrault.”
She stared at me with an expression like a hunted deer.
“Say something, damn you!” I hurled the button at her.
“Fine! Yes, I did it. But I swear I didn’t mean to get anyone arrested.” She resumed pacing. “It was supposed to start rumors that Evan had a bastard child. Then he’d be ruined and couldn’t marry a noble—and then perhaps you’d condescend to take a wretched commoner like me as your sister-in-law.” She groaned. “Having secured his hand, I would have contrived to return the child!”
“. . . Genevieve!” I groaned. “I’m not saying I would have said yes, but why on earth would you commit a kidnapping rather than tell me your feelings?! By Eve, I can’t believe you would do this to me. To us.”
“To the baby,” Evan added.
“The baby is home now,” she pointed out.
“Evan is still in jail. Genevieve, what if this goes to court and he’s found guilty?”
“Then I’ll confess.”
I opened my mouth to argue further, then closed it. “You will?”
“Of course I will.” She glared at me. “Do you think so little of me? Of course I will. But if he’s released . . .” She shrugged.
“That sounds best,” Evan said. He looked up at me. “I really don’t mind staying here a while, since I know I’ll be released one way or another.” He stood, then stooped to pick up the button I’d thrown. “You took away an important piece of evidence that could be used to incriminate either of us. I think it will all work out.”
I considered it. “Yes. Well, I’m glad all that is behind us.” The two of them looked at me expectantly. “Yes, I agree. We’ll just wait it out.”
“But afterwards?” Genevieve asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well—can I court Evan?”
I barked a laugh. “You know very well what my family thinks of intermingling with commoners, and you think kidnapping a baby and getting my brother sent to jail is going to help your case?” She looked so hurt by the remark that I softened. “Carrault, I don’t mean that I don’t forgive you. But it’s the family name I’m thinking about. It’s not my choice.”
“It is your choice,” Evan said hotly. “Our parents aren’t here anymore. It’s certainly not my choice.”
Genevieve set a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her, and quieted. “It’s alright,” Genevieve said. “I’m glad that you forgive me. I would hate for my love for your brother to ruin our friendship. That’s the last thing I want.”
I smiled. “Thank you for understanding. I’m glad you don’t blame me for my duty to my family. I swear it doesn’t matter to me that you’re not a noble. Despite this whole incident, I know you’re as good as any honorable lady.”
She embraced me suddenly.
------------------------------------------------------------------
I hadn’t known that her hug was a goodbye.
The next morning, I saw a paper slipped under the front door.
Dear Maeve,
I hope you know how much I care for you, and how much Evan cares for you. Don’t think that it’s a reflection on our affection for you that we’re eloping. But I love him, and he loves me, and while I could perhaps damn myself to pining away for eternity, I can’t bear the thought of him in a loveless marriage to some noblewoman.
I delivered my confession to the police in the dead of night. Evan was freed, I was arrested, but as it was the middle of the night there was only one guard, who I easily overpowered. To be safe, I also left a written confession on the front desk. Thus, Evan’s name, and your family name, are clear.
Perhaps you’re furious with me, but regardless, I send my affectionate regards.
Your best friend and soon to be sister-in-law,
Genevieve Carrault.