Samh
9.28.1342 21:37
Beritha was not surprised when Mrs. Gillfillian began
to sob and moan with less energy as soon as Abaledina left.
“Beritha,” the woman said, pushing aside the
handkerchiefs and the smelling-bottles, which lay in excess about her. “Beritha,
why didn’t you prevent Abaledina from receiving that fatal message? It will
ruin all our plans, and then I won’t be able to give you the extra for your
services.”
“What message, madam?” asked Beritha, feigning
innocence with ease.
“The one from Eriath telling Abaledina he didn’t
want to marry her. You examined them—you always do,” Mrs. Gillfillian said,
looking sternly at her.
Beritha’s countenance was immovable and
inexpressive. Mrs. Gillfillian had no power over her. “I did examine the
messages today as you ordered, but the message you mention escaped my notice.”
“Beritha,” her mistress said, after a pause, “supposing
I send you from my house for this act of disobedience, refuse to pay you what I
promised upon Eriath’s marriage with Abaledina, and prevent you from being
admitted into another fashionable family in the city.”
“I don’t think you are that foolish, madam. I’m
too useful to you,” Beritha said boldly as she nonchalantly twirled one of the
cords from the canopy over Mrs. Gillfillian’s bed. “There are reasons
dismissing me might punish you instead of me. I know how you have acted toward Eriath
and Abaledina even though you know who they really are. I don’t think you want
to risk exposing that secret by depriving me of a home.
“You are well aware, madam,” Beritha continued, “because
I told you years ago: I work as I’m paid. Unfortunately, of late, you have
grown miserly. It has recently occurred to me that Miss Abaledina will give me
as much—if not more—to reveal one of your many long-cherished secrets. I wish
for the money I’ve earned. I don’t care how it comes to me.”
“What do you want?” Mrs. Gillfillian asked
sternly. Her rage was beyond comparison, but Beritha did not fear it. “You came
to me nearly a beggar—just look at yourself in that mirror—many a lady would be
proud of your dresses. In my house, too, you have the utmost freedom. You
receive company when you choose; you order around the other servants; you
control everything as you wish, but now you presume to interfere with the plans
I’ve labored years to achieve. Is this your gratitude?”
“I know nothing of gratitude or ingratitude,”
replied Beritha pertly. “As I said, I work for money. I’m certain Abaledina
would give two hundred-thousand-notes to learn my secret.” Here, she paused.
Despite Jeanilotta’s belief in Viscount Elwynalam’s affection for her, Beritha
had a feeling he would pay at least that to know her secret. However, she
wanted to keep that card to herself. “You have promised me one hundred-thousand-note upon the week of their marriage.
If you raise that to two hundred-thousand-notes instead, I’ll be silent. If
not, I’ll tell her all.”
Her proud mistress groaned aloud at having the
tables turned. Beritha maintained her impenetrable visage.
“I promise,” Mrs. Gillfillian said with effort. Beritha
left the room and quickly returned with her com-tab.
“This time, it must be an official contract. I have taken the liberty of writing it out. You just need to sign here with your fingerprint.” Beritha smiled. Jeanilotta was not the only person who could bend her parents to her will.
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