Tony got up at his usual time, just as the sky began to pale. Once he went out to do whatever he did every morning, I lit a candle and went to my closets to search the pocket of the dress I wore the night before. The piece of paper Marja had in her hand lay crumpled there. Something was written upon it in pencil, but between the crumpling, the blood stains, and the dirt, I couldn't make out what it said.

Deflated, I put on my robe and locked the note in my dresser. Perhaps I could find a way to decipher it later.

Joe and Josie would be devastated at Marja's death. Their mother died bearing them, and Marja had been one of the few people who watched over them. I remembered Marja brushing Josie's hair in front of the fire, bringing her food, rocking her.

Who would kill Marja? She was just a woman from the Pot. Certainly no one worth going to the trouble of killing. How did they know we were to meet last night? What did she have to tell me that someone found so dangerous that they would kill to silence it?

I crawled into bed. A copy of the Golden Bridges arrived while I was at the Kerr's, and I felt curious to see what these men thought of the miracle gems.

Indeed, they had an editorial on the subject:

Gem colored price bubble?

The "miracle gem" craze sweeping the city of Bridges is a great deal for the gem sellers, most notably a certain wag with the moxie to call herself Queen in a city ruled by the Diamonds. Whether these gems (or their "elixirs") actually do what they're claimed to be doing is unknown. Who knows this Dr. Overs Gocow, or his qualifications? But this is of little consequence to the mad sellers of gems, who will claim just about anything to part with their goods, for a price.

I would bring your attention to the "secret penny" craze of the 1870's. A few misprinted pennies ended up selling for thousands of dollars until people tired of the sport. Prices fell dramatically, those holding the pennies at the end after purchasing them for vast sums unable to sell them for more than a penny. Will this finish the same way, with buyers left holding worthless merchandise after squandering their fortunes? I suppose it's lucky the gems are pretty. We shall see.

Many people considered the Golden Bridges to be tawdry, but lately it seemed to have more sense than the Bridges Daily.

That made me think of Mr. Durak. I hoped he might recover from his melancholy and return to the productive life he once had.

When Amelia came in, she had a book with her. "The gardener said you requested this."

"Oh, yes! Thank you." I opened the book, Formulation of Explosives, and paged through it while drinking my morning tea. It spoke of how the dynamite sticks were dipped in paraffin to seal them, how to set charges, place fuses, and (most interesting) the construction of timers.

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Air would have loved this book. My best friend, born the same day I was, murdered in front of me when we were twelve. In a different place, Air would surely have become an Inventor.

At breakfast, I reminded Tony of Gardena's luncheon and told him we planned to visit the gardens at the Women's Club. "We might even stay for tea, depending on the weather. She's invited her sisters-in-law, and her brothers may take us boating if the day turns nice. Jonathan is keeping Jack occupied."

"That's a relief," Tony said. "I don't suppose too much could happen in the Women's Club. Unless you get soaked again."

We were not to meet her brothers at the Women's Club at all, but rather at the Plaza on Market Center. Many buildings there had easily accessed roofs one might observe from. Also, the Plaza was crowded, so we might come and go without attracting notice.

"Make sure you return right after tea," Tony said. "We should leave as early as possible for the Celebration."

I was not looking forward to this.

Tony placed his hands on my shoulders. "I know this isn't a blessed day for you, or even an enjoyable one. I understand; today we celebrate the destruction of your home and your people's descent into ruin, instigated by my ancestor." He spoke as if this hadn't occurred to him before, and paused, gazing to the side for a moment. "But this event tonight is something we're expected to attend. Can you at least appear to be happy?"

I laughed. "That I can do."

The biggest challenge I faced was leaving the Diamond Women's Center without my men noticing. I had instructed Gardena to bring a dark dress in my size with a plain hat and thick veil. I instructed Amelia to pick out a brightly colored dress with a feathered hat. "We're going to have such fun! First we'll have luncheon, then promenade, then perhaps go boating, then have tea ... it should be a lovely day."

Amelia smiled. "I'm glad, mum. I do like Miss Gardena, and her brother's such a gentleman."

"He is. He won't be there today, but I'll send your regards."

She shifted, glancing away. "Servants are never brought into conversation with fine folk." Her face grew stern. "I know Mrs. Molly taught you this."

"She did." I thought of what Roy had done to her and my eyes stung. "How do you stand it here? I couldn't do what you do."

"I'm most grateful to be here, mum."

After everything that happened. "Why?"

Amelia gave me an incredulous stare. "Mum, I grew up in the slums. My father died when I was small." She spoke as if this explained everything.

"I'm sorry, Amelia. How did it happen?"

"He worked in a Party Time factory; a canister fell and opened in front of him. He breathed the dust, him and five others, and it killed them." Her face turned pensive. "There were ten of us children, the youngest just a baby. After he died, we never had enough to eat, or proper clothes, and barely time to sleep. I worked as a street sweeper from the age of eight, sixpence for a ten hour day, and helped my mother with the washing at night. It was sheer Fortune that Mr. Roy's mother took notice of me." She paused for a while, gripping the chair in front of her, knuckles white, then took a deep breath. "My life has been hard, yes, but my mother is cared for and my girls have food and good clothing. Someday, they may become lady's maids to your children. Everything that has happened was worth it, for them."

I spoke gently. "And what of your son?"

Amelia said nothing.

"Amelia ... " I wasn't sure what to say. "What Mr. Roy did to you is not Pip's fault."

Amelia stood silent for some time. "Maybe it's for the best that he live with the men." She took a deep breath and let it out, then picked up my handbag and gave it to me with a fake smile. "I'm sure your carriage is ready."