10
Samh 9.11.1342 07:00
The first rays of approaching day faintly struggled through the curtains before Abaledina finished her weary task. At length, however, the message was finished. She scrolled through it, checked to make sure she had entered Eriath’s address correctly, and hit send, entrusting it to the ether. Then, she threw herself upon her silken couch and hoped no one would disturb her for at least five hours.
* * * * * *
Beritha was startled from her light slumber by the bing of a message being received at such an unusual hour. When she dressed with her usual carefulness, she seemed not more than thirty years of age. At this time in her most coarse state of undress and in the grey morning light, she looked her age of forty-five. She was rather tall and possessed that kind of second-rate civility which arises from seeing but not mingling with really genteel society. It was an artificial refinement that cloaked the actual vulgarity of her mind.
Her sharp features were not bad, and her eyes evinced a thorough knowledge of the wickedness of the world. They were gray, restless, piercing, but could sometimes be made to assume a soft, flirtatious laziness. Beneath their assumed expression of frankness and simplicity, there existed a deep-rooted, cunning selfishness.
With a smile of triumph, she quickly turned on her com-tab and began patiently to peruse its message. She often wondered how it was the girls did not realize the filtering system installed by the Gillfillians was not one run by AI but one that sent all their emails to her instead of the intended recipient. However, after six years, deleting messages and sending different ones to keep Miss Abaledina and Master Eriath together was beginning to wear even on her. She noted that the rewards for her interventions were becoming less and less. They were also being pushed forward to the day of their marriage when she was to receive a hundred-thousand-note of the heiress’ money for herself.
She was perturbed that these proud people who employed her made her do all the work so they could have all the gain. She had worked hard over the years to make this match occur, but she began to wonder if there would not be better money earned from revealing the plot to the heiress instead of working secretly against her.
This message was similar to almost all of them between Abaledina and Eraith—professing the deepest of brotherly or sisterly affection while stating no feeling of true love existed and requesting to be released from the obligation of marrying. She could not believe children these days thought they knew what marriage and love were about—so much so that they would spurn their parents’ choices. When she first heard of the match, she promptly recognized how well it would improve both of the children’s positions. Adding Abaledina’s wealth to the business acumen of Eriath’s father would have created an empire.
Beritha was not a deaf servant, though. For the last four years, she had heard that the luck of Mr. Gillfillian had run out and that he was heading toward financial ruin. Abaledina’s fortune was now wanted to stall that process probably until he could run through the young orphan’s inheritance as well. Beritha might not understand the ideals of love, but she did understand the ideals of money. She had began to worry that once the day of the marriage occurred, she would be shorted.
After reading the early morning message from Abaledina, she sat in thought until Mrs. Gillfillian's notification summoned her. With the young woman’s message open on her com-tab, she proceeded to the luxurious dressing room of that lady.
In Beritha’s opinion, Mrs. Gillfillian was lazy, extravagant, and ambitious. The first and the last of these were in a constant state of battle. To gratify the middle one she was constantly in search of money, and to get it she descended to every malicious trickery. Her niece’s immense inheritance came to her upon her mother’s death, as she was a noble Swienzean lady. While her father improved the inheritance by doing mercantile speculations with his brother, she burned through Lieutenant Gillfillian’s share—which she saw as her rightful money. Accomplishing the union between her son and her niece was her precious scheme. Beritha had been with her long enough to know well the inner workings of her employer’s mind.
Messages on both sides had been intercepted, read, and others that were more congenial substituted in their places. To both of the youths, the all-engrossing passion of the other had been repeatedly declared. The sacredness of the pledge they made as mere children when they were under extremely trying circumstances was constantly reinforced to them.
By sending Eraith away to school, the Gillfillians had kept them separated for years. Without any way of having free, innocent conversations, they were mutually deceived. Currently, each feared that withdrawing from the agreement would fatally wound the heart of the other. Therefore, when they had a few moments alone together, neither made a full disclosure of their real feelings.
Mrs. Gillfillian received the newly intercepted message with pleasure from Beritha, whose abilities had never been detected by the children.
"This must never go! I would ruin all our plans,” Mrs. Gillfillian declared after reading the message. “I thank you for intercepting it. You can have this bracelet for your service, but I am going to continue holding it temporarily. My daughter has one like it, and she might disapprove."
Beritha was not so easily deceived by the woman’s false gift. The heat of anger showed on her cheek, forcing her to turn so it would not be seen. Her mistress continued looking at the message and saw nothing of her servant’s ire.
"Now that is settled, there are a thousand preparations to be completed for our ball, which I can trust to no one but you." Her mistress gave directions with the ease and nobility of one accustomed to being obeyed. Beritha remained sullen; she had not been well paid for her work—again.
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