Chapter Nineteen

Madam Jacinta spoke with a hint of dark amusement. “Tell me, have either of you heard of the Gentleman Thief?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Am I to assume he’s a thief who happens to be a gentleman?”

“Perhaps.” Jacinta shrugged. “Three months ago, there was a burglary at Appleton Mansion. The thief somehow got into a heavily-warded building and stole a worthless painting, leaving a card saying YOU HAVE BEEN ROBBED BY THE GENTLEMAN THIEF. I checked around, when I heard the story; the painting was definitely worthless and the thief could have easily taken a few others that would have netted him thousands, if he sold them to the right person. If he got in so easily, he must have known the painting was worthless.”

Anastasia frowned. “Sentimental value?”

“Not according to the owners,” Jacinta said. “They’re not too pleased about the robbery, of course, but they haven’t bothered to offer to pay for its safe return. They didn’t even bother to post a large reward for the thief’s capture.”

“Curious,” Charlotte said. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

“I wondered if the whole affair had been faked for some reason,” Jacinta said. “And then there was another robbery, and another, and another. Some worthless shit gets taken, a card is left lying around … some thefts lead to embarrassment, even real trouble, for their victims. Lady Penacook was apparently trying to extort compensation for land redistribution, only to have papers stolen that proved she had no actual claim to the land. A couple of others followed … one lord was refusing to pay child support to the poor maid who’d had his baby, another was short-changing her maids. In both cases, the Gentleman Thief saw to it that word reached the broadsheets and Her Majesty. He’s well on the way to becoming a folk hero.”

Anastasia considered it. “And there are no suspects?”

“Not as far as anyone can tell,” Jacinta confirmed. “The wards appear unbroken, but the thief gets though. The stolen goods have never been recovered, save for the papers exposing criminal activity. The Guards have to be looking for a magician, given how the wards should be enough to keep everyone else out, but so far they’ve drawn a complete blank.”

“Assuming they’re actually trying to find him,” Charlotte said. “If they think he’s a magician, they’ll probably look the other way rather than trying to arrest him. Good way to spend the rest of your life sitting on a lily pad, croaking loudly.”

Anastasia felt sick. Circe had threatened to do just that to her.

“The only thing most of the thefts have in common is that the victims held a party shortly before the theft,” Jacinta said. “But that doesn’t prove much of anything.”

“So you work through the lists of whoever attended the party,” Charlotte said. “Anyone who attended them all must be considered a suspect.”

“So you’d think,” Jacinta agreed. “But there isn’t anyone who attended all of the parties.”

Charlotte snickered. “Did you check the staff?”

Jacinta gave her a sharp look. “Naturally,” she said. “Again, no single suspect who attended every party. The later victims were careful not to bring in outsiders, and put their staff through the wringer, and … well, they drew a blank too.”

“And they still got robbed,” Charlotte mused. “Interesting.”

Anastasia felt her stomach rumble. “So, what do you want us to do? Catch the thief?”

“If you can get his name, we’d like an interview,” Jacinta said. “There have been a few … hundred … letters claiming to be from the thief, but they’re so different that it’s impossible to believe they’re from the real Gentleman Thief. One says he’s a nobleman extracting revenge for King Randor, another claims to be working for the Levellers … there are too many I’m certain they’re fakes.”

She shrugged. “More seriously, I want you to spend some time as society reporters,” she added. “The aristos are too used to certain faces by now.”

“And it’s making it hard to get some good gossip,” Charlotte finished. “How many noblemen claim to be the thief?”

“Nine, so far,” Jacinta said. They shared a smile. “None stood up to interrogation, of course.”

Anastasia shook her head. “What?”

Charlotte glanced at her. “There’s always a bunch of young male fools in the quality who like dropping hints of roguish dealings to impress young female fools,” she said, sardonically. “A hint of dark connections in the right ear and the young lady’s hear starts fluttering … nonsense, of course. They have no real contacts and they never stay in such places after dark. If the Gentleman Thief is a nobleman, he’s keeping his mouth firmly shut.”

“Naturally,” Jacinta agreed.

Anastasia nodded, slowly. A young nobleman’s behaviour reflected on his family … and if it reflected poorly, his family would take extreme measures to cover it up while ensuring their ungrateful child was sent into de facto exile. There was an entire community of young nobles, almost all men, who were sent money by their families, as long as they stayed well away from their homelands. It was quite bad enough to be caught alone with a young woman of quality, or to gamble away vast sums without a care in the world, yet … she couldn’t imagine what the nobles would do to a thief. They’d send him away …

She looked up. “Has anyone been sent into exile recently?”

“Not as far as I know, although such exiles are always handled discreetly,” Jacinta said. “The only high-profile case in the last year was two minor lords from the southern marches – and both were told they couldn’t return to their home, let alone the capital. Lady Emily gave them the boot and Her Majesty backed her up.”

“And besides, the thief is still around,” Charlotte mused. “Very well. We’ll see what kind of gossip we can pick up. You’ll set up some cover stories for us?”

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“Of course,” Jacinta said. “Just be careful. The more interest you attract, the more people will look into you.”

She rang a bell. “Jackie will show you to your room, and get some food sent in,” she said. “You can sleep inside our wards tonight. I’ll see what we can find you for tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Charlotte said. “We’ll do our best.”

Anastasia nodded as the secretary entered the office and led them up a flight of stairs to an upper floor that reminded her of the Dog and Duck. The newspaper had rooms for visiting reporters … she wondered, idly, if they were the first who’d been forced to flee, after discovering something that could easily get them killed. Probably not, she guessed. Charlotte had told her the job was dangerous, after all. She thanked Jackie as she showed them a simple bedroom, then sat on the bed. Her head felt confused, as if something was very wrong.

“I’ll have the clippings sent in,” Jackie said. “Good luck.”

Charlotte laughed, bitterly, as the door closed behind them. “A gossipmonger. Me!”

Anastasia glanced at her. “Is it a bad thing?”

“Who’s wearing what and who’s on the outs with who might be interesting to some people, but it isn’t interesting to me,” Charlotte said. “And she doesn’t really want us hunting the thief.”

“Oh.” Anastasia allowed herself a moment of relief as a servant appeared, carrying two trays of food. “What are we going to do?”

“Our job,” Charlotte said. “Write meaningless puff pieces, pretend to be interested in digging for the Gentleman Thief, and hope we can go home before it’s too late. They won’t give us anything interesting to do here, not unless we’re staying for good. And we won’t. This isn’t my place. I’d have to start from scratch.”

“I see, I think,” Anastasia said. Another servant arrived, carrying several heavy notebooks. “You never know. Something might come up.”

Charlotte snorted. “You want to hear a terrible truth? Most people aren’t selfish, but they’re self-interested. They won’t do things they consider to be against their self-interest. Jacinta won’t help us, let alone give us something with real meat, because it isn’t in her self-interest to promote us over her permanent staff. She knows we’re not planning to stay. Why should she help us?”

“She took us in,” Anastasia pointed out.

“Only because Perry asked her,” Charlotte countered. “And that doesn’t mean she has any obligation to go out of her way for us.”

Anastasia sighed and ate her dinner, then turned her attention to the clippings. Charlotte ate too, then lay down on her bed and went to sleep. The clippings ranged from sober analysis to articles that were high in drama and low in facts, a number detailing swordfights and magical duels between the Gentleman Thief and the guards that the more sensible writers left unmentioned … probably because they’d never happened. Anastasia was no expect, but even she knew magic had a trace. If someone got into a fight with another magician, there’d be enough residue left behind to give the City Guard a good chance of tracking them down. The notes beside the clippings agreed with her. The articles were exaggerated to the point of uselessness.

Her eyes narrowed as she mentally compiled the data. Jacinta was right – the only clue that made any sense was that there had been a party, shortly before the thefts. Nothing else made any sense at all. The stolen goods were worthless, save for a handful of documents … the thief didn’t seem interested in untraceable goods or money, as if he was doing it to prove he could rather than out of a desire for money or power. So far, he hadn’t hit the castle or any of the families with powerful magic, which meant … what? Did he think he couldn’t break into a mansion with a living mind connected to the wards? Or wasn't he interested in harassing the castle? All of his targets were older families, declining families …

Which might not be proof of anything, she mused. There aren’t many noble families that are doing well for themselves, not now.

She stared down at the clippings for a long moment, then dug through the rest of the data. Rockfall’s aristocrats made sure to publish guests lists for bragging rights and Zangaria’s clearly thought along the same lines, ensuing that everyone knew who was being rewarded and who was being shunned. A few dozen names had attended several of the parties, but none had attended all of them. She contemplated the existence of someone like Circe for a long moment, then dismissed the thought. No one could work in all of the victimised houses without being noticed.

Probably something to look into, anyway, she thought. She put the folder down and clambered into bed. The problem nagged at her, a puzzle she wanted to solve. All the thief had done was embarrass his victims … was that the point? Or had something else been stolen, something the owners didn’t want to admit existed? She couldn’t think of anything that could be taken from so many households without someone leaking. Maybe the worthless goods are actually worth something …

She drifted off to sleep, awakening a few hours later. Charlotte was seated on her bed, reading the file and making dozens of notes. Anastasia wanted to ask if she’d spotted something, but Charlotte held up a hand for silence when she opened her mouth. A maid arrived a few moments later, with kava. Charlotte took her mug gratefully. Anastasia winced at the smell, but drank her own without complaint. She’d never grown used to the taste.

“Nothing.” Charlotte sounded disgusted. “It all seems pointless.”

“Unless the thief took someone else, something the family didn’t want to admit owning, let alone losing, “Anastasia said. “Is there anything?”

“In thirty-odd households?” Charlotte considered it. “Books of dark magic, perhaps, or … I don’t think they’d report the theft at all, if he stole one of the few things forbidden even to aristos of their station. They’d sooner keep mum than admit to owning something that would get them executed. Or …”

She smiled, humourlessly. “Perhaps he stole the daughter’s maidenhead.”

Anastasia made a face. “That’s horrible.”

“You think a young woman can’t make one or two … dozen … stupid decisions when she’s young and foolish?” Charlotte snorted as she stood and headed for the washroom. “It wouldn’t be the first time some noble brat got pregnant out of wedlock, or had to visit a magician for an abortion or a hasty repair job on their maidenhead or … I could name a handful of young nobles who grew up with older sisters, unaware that those poor girls were actually their mothers. You’d be surprised and horrified at what gets covered up, over the years.”

“I don’t want to know,” Anastasia said.

“Then you’re in the wrong line of work,” Charlotte told her, bluntly. “But I shouldn’t worry too much about it. Half the targeted households don’t have daughters of marriageable age.”

She stepped into the washroom and closed the door behind her. Anastasia stared at the closed door, her thoughts churning. The idea she’d ever be alone with a man was just … she shook her head. It was one thing to pretend her pillow was a handsome young man, quite another to actually be with him. She’d always been chaperoned … she didn’t want to believe that someone could have taken advantage of her, if she’d had a moment of weakness, but she didn’t want to lie to herself either. She had felt something when Felix had kissed her and who knew? It could have gone a great deal further. Were there girls back home who had gone too far? Or was Charlotte lying … it struck her, not for the first time, that she knew very little about her mentor. Where had she come from?

“Get washed and dressed,” Charlotte ordered, when she emerged. “Jacinta will be ready for us downstairs.”

Anastasia obeyed. The washroom was surprisingly modern, right down to hot and cold running water. There was no time for a bath, so she showered and changed into her spare outfit. Charlotte was standing outside, looking impatient, and hurried her back down the stairs. Jacinta was waiting in her office, reading a letter that looked official. She put it aside as they entered and closed the door behind them.

“We put together a cover story for you,” she said, shortly. “You, Anastasia, will be a young lady of quality from the Wilfred lands, with Charlotte as your maid and chaperone. Earl Wilfred had a habit of forbidding his subject lords to send their daughters to the city, for reasons that have never been properly explained, but after both of his sons were sent into exile he’s apparently relaxed that policy. You’ll be countrified, which will explain why no one has ever met you. You may get some ribbing because of it.”

Anastasia frowned. “No one will think to check?”

“You’re a very minor young woman from a very minor house that is subject to a very minor earldom,” Jacinta explained. “Your family doesn’t have the wealth to do much of anything without the earl’s permission, which hasn’t been forthcoming until now, and you can’t really afford to put on a show, which explains why you’ll be living in a rented townhouse rather than a mansion. As long as you don’t do anything stupid, you should be fine.”

“I’ll try,” Anastasia said, doubtfully.

“You know how it works,” Charlotte said. “As long as you look the part, people will bend over backwards to keep from realising the truth.”

Anastasia hoped she was right. Zangaria was much larger than Rockfall, and it was quite possible the local aristocracy would never have met a girl from a border earldom, but still … she took the file Jacinta handed her and scanned it quickly, memorising the pertinent details. Lady Anne and her family had little to offer, even without their local superior being a pain in the unmentionables. No money, no vast tracts of land … it looked as if the real Anne had never been fostered, let alone had a marriage arranged for her. Anastasia felt a stab of pity. The poor girl would likely be trapped for the rest of her life.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Anastasia muttered. The basics of aristocratic etiquette was universal – or so she’d been told. Boss Hank’s party suggested otherwise, although if she had been so isolated for most of her life she wouldn’t be expected to be as perfect as a noblewoman who’d been raised in Alexis. “I won’t be the centre of attention.”

“No,” Jacinta agreed. “But as long as you’re slipping into the gatherings and keeping your ears open, who knows what you’ll find?”

Charlotte looked irked. “We’ll practiced a set of signals too,” she added. “We might need them.”

“Let her draw all the attention,” Jacinta advised. “You see what all the servants have to say.”

“Of course,” Charlotte said. She still sounded annoyed. “We shall see.”

Jacinta picked up an envelope and held it out. “That’s the keys to the townhouse,” she said. “We own it through a blind trust, renting it out to visitors … they may look down on you for renting such a small place, instead of a mansion, but they won’t see anything odd in it. The staff work for us too.”

“Good,” Charlotte said.

“We’ll get the word out too,” Jacinta added. “You should have some invitations shortly. Good luck.”

Anastasia said nothing until they were outside. “Invitations?”

“It’s common to invite everyone of noble blood, particularly someone new to the city,” Charlotte said. Something was clearly gnawing at her. “Not to be given an invitation is a grave insult.”

“I see,” Anastasia said.

“And you be careful,” Charlotte added. “Tell me everything you find out, when you do.”

Anastasia gritted her teeth. Why? So you can claim much of the credit again?

But she kept the thought to herself.