Chapter 9: Sticky Fingers

It was early morning. The sky still wore a grey blanket, and everything felt sleepy. Vivienne left the chateau quietly, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head. She didn’t want anyone to notice her. Not that anyone really paid attention to maids. Her steps were fast but quiet as she walked through the cold cobblestone streets of Ravelle. The city was just waking up. Bakers were opening their shops, and women were sweeping in front of their doorsteps. But Vivienne didn’t stop for anything. She walked to a small cottage at the edge of town. It was hidden between tall trees, and most people didn’t even notice it. She knocked twice. The door opened. It was Ètienne. She walked in without a word, her usual confident aura back the moment she stepped through the door. The warmth inside the cottage wrapped around her. Madame Mireille was sitting, sipping tea like a queen who had never worked a day in her life. Delphine was, of course, staring at herself in a mirror like she was her own biggest fan. Vivienne pulled off her hood and flung it like it was something rotten. Her voice was sharp and dramatic. "You’ve got to be fucking kidding me." She didn’t wait for a reply. She threw herself into a chair, kicking off the horrible maid shoes like they were burning her feet. A servant came with tea. "Wait," Vivienne called. She reached into her bag and pulled out some shiny gold coins. "Go to Montclaire," she said. "Find a place that sells ink. Not cheap ink. Something a rich, spoiled Duke would use. Maybe even scented. Get the best." The servant looked confused but nodded and left. Vivienne snatched the mirror from Delphine and stared at her reflection. Her eyes looked tired. Her skin looked pale. She looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks. She mumbled to herself, "I have aged just in a week." Mireille, Delphine, and Ètienne watched her in silence. They waited. Mireille finally asked, her voice calm, "Is something wrong? Why are you out so soon?" Vivienne scoffed. "I’m running errands for the Duke. Apparently, he wants special ink so he can write poetry. Poetry. I’m supposed to travel through the city for ink while he sits in silk." She straightened her back, and her tone shifted. "Anyways. What the hell, Madame? You said the Duke was sick. Or mad." Mireille nodded slowly. "That’s what I heard. One of the servants who left told me. Why?" Vivienne leaned forward. "He’s neither. Apparently, he’s just..." Delphine leaned in. "Just what?" Vivienne sighed. "Strange. Lonely. And very dumb." They all blinked. "He does nothing but read books and write poems all day. Yesterday, he asked me to sit and stir his ink. And pass him a paper. What kind of life is this? I left Luminelle for this?" She laughed bitterly. "Let me not forget how painfully shy he is. The moment I walk in, he blushes. His ears literally turn red. He even said he trusts me and wants to be friends with me." Delphine raised her brow. "Any luck with the horse?" Vivienne leaned back in the chair. "No. Not even close. That old hag, Madame Lefevre or whatever the fuck she’s called, watches me like a hawk. Now, I’ve become a babysitter for a lonely man-child who writes poetry about the sun and the moon and calls it work." Mireille sipped her tea and smiled lightly. "You said he wants to be friends with you?" "Yes. Friends." "And he blushes around you?" Vivienne nodded. "Then he must like you," Mireille said. "You can use that to your advantage. If he trusts you, he might tell you something. Maybe even about the horse. Seduce him if you have to. Make him fall completely in love with you. The faster we find the horse, the faster you get out of there." Vivienne rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Two hours later, she walked back into the chateau like nothing had happened. Her face was calm, her steps light. But, of course, Madame Lefevre saw her. "Where were you?" she asked, coldly. Vivienne kept her voice sweet. "His Grace ran out of ink. He asked me to get more." Madame Lefevre blinked. "Did he? That’s strange. New ink was delivered just yesterday... or am I wrong?" Vivienne stayed silent. Madame Lefevre looked at her, then said, "You may go." Vivienne walked away, not even caring about what Lefevre said. Her mind was already somewhere else. She went to the Duke’s chambers and knocked. "Come in," came the soft voice. She entered. He was sitting there, reading. The moment their eyes met, she saw it again. His ears turned red. She sighed in her head. "Does this fool actually like me?" "I got the ink, my Lord," she said. "Thank you, Vivienne," he replied. "Do you need anything else, my Lord?" He shook his head. "No. I am going to my study. You may rest now." She nodded. But then he stopped. "Wait. Do you want to come with me to my study?" Vivienne raised an eyebrow. "What does this fool want now?" But she nodded. "I want to show you something," he said. They walked together. The study was, of course, big and fancy. Every corner smelled like old books and expensive polish. But something else caught Vivienne’s eyes. A pearl necklace. It was just there. Sitting beside a delicate vase like it was worthless. Her fingers twitched. "He must be filthy rich," she thought. "To leave jewels like that just lying around." And then the worst idea popped into her head. She couldn’t ignore it. The necklace looked like it was calling her. "Take me," it whispered in her head. She looked at André. He was distracted. Talking about his favourite story and rummaging through a chest. Her hand moved on its own. She grabbed the necklace. "Uh-huh! Found it!" he said, holding up a magnifying glass. He turned. And saw her. Holding the necklace. Vivienne froze.