The Managed Garden

Unlike the Elpertz family, who had squandered their fortune with impeccable elegance, the Lamplis estate had been torn apart by everyone else — chewed up, picked clean, and left in ruins. In the end, all that remained was a trickle of money and a single house. Perhaps the Lamplis family had imagined that pouring one drop of noble blood into their vulgar, common strain would change something. As if noble blood alone could accomplish anything.

Kasika, for her part, had her doubts about that choice. After all, what was one supposed to do with a drop of noble blood? At best, the recipient would spend freely, lose control of the purse strings, and end up buried in debt — rather like Count Elpertz.

The only difference in Kasika's case was that she had grown up in precisely such a debt-ridden household and had, as a result, learned to manage money — which was, admittedly, quite unbecoming of a noblewoman. And yet that very poverty had also shaped her.

"A maintained garden," Kasika said, gazing down below. Both the garden and the greenhouse here were impeccably kept. The Lamplis house — though in truth it could hardly be called a house. It had long since been sold off to settle debts, and the only thing left was the small two-story villa they'd kept in a remote corner of the estate; had the family not collapsed, she likely would never even have known it existed — had nothing of the sort. Tending a garden cost money. The wages of a full-time gardener were astronomical, and even summoning one two or three times a year cost a small fortune.

Still, the natural surroundings had not been lacking. The corner of the estate where the Lamplis house stood was ringed by forest — closer to wilderness than to untouched nature — and Kasika had often loved to run through it. Anyone watching would have called it shockingly vulgar. How can a noblewoman run like that? they would say. But once she'd run until her lungs burned, something long suppressed would burst open inside her, and she'd feel gloriously light. That, too, had been years ago now.

Life at Lamplis held neither hardship nor drama. However one looked at it, there was enough to eat for a lifetime, a few servants to keep, and no one remotely worth quarreling with.

"You're up already?"

Lydia said, opening the door. She had expected to find her mistress still in the bedroom, so the surprise of finding her out was twofold — and beyond that, there was something unfamiliar about seeing Kasika awake and clear-eyed at such an hour. Kasika lifted her gaze to her. Unlike the days when it had been just the two of them working together, this house was full of servants, and there seemed to be little for Lydia to do. In her hands she carried not fabric or a basket, but merely a few envelopes.

"I always have to wake you."

"I had things to think about."

"You stayed up late because you had things to think about?"

"No. I didn't sleep."

Kasika replied. Lydia wore the expression of someone who had suspected as much. She darted over and touched Kasika's face, turning it this way and that, then ran a hand over her skin. "No wonder your face looked a wreck. What would people say if they saw you," she murmured, moving to fetch the tonics and preparations. But no one was coming to call at such an early hour; there was no need. When Kasika said, "Breakfast first," Lydia nodded, though her face plainly asked whether she was truly going to let things stand like this.

Lydia, on her way out to request the meal, stopped short and turned back.

"Oh — the check arrived."

Kasika, who had been draped across the window seat, sat up this time. The envelope she'd brought must have been it.

"And here I thought Lamplis had finally written," Kasika said, sweeping her hair back as she picked up the envelope Lydia set down. "Five gold?" She opened it and peered inside. At the same moment, Lydia answered, "Twenty gold." She had apparently already looked. And indeed, there it was on the check — the sum written out in full, beneath it the signature of Noah Lambroise.

So it's paid by an individual, not the family. He's wealthy enough that a sum like this doesn't even give him pause?

"Wasn't it supposed to be weekly?"

"That's what I heard when I collected it — but this time they've paid it all at once. It's the end of the month, so it's a full month's worth."

"We signed the contract only days ago."

"Money in abundance is a good thing no matter how it comes, isn't it?"

Kasika had no rebuttal to that. Fair enough. Money mattered. She knew, having known poverty. Philosophers liked to call money-worship a failed system — the way it alienates those who have none — but perhaps it was, in truth, a success, if only for the simple fact that nothing had ever managed to replace it.

"We'll have to go to the bank and open an account."

"Did you close the one you used when you were living in the capital?"

"Mm, the maintenance fees were steep. And the holy city's changed hands, remember."

At that, Lydia said, "Right, of course." Entrusting a sum like this, even a full year's account fees at once would be no burden at all. No — it wouldn't merely be no burden; it would be laughably trivial. Perhaps I should invest what's left somewhere? Then I could pay off the debts a little faster. It would sting if she lost it, of course.

"They also said at the letter that jewelry and fabric will be sent along," Lydia added, then opened the door and left. Kasika stared at the closed door.

Twenty gold, plus jewelry and fabric.

There was no need for Noah Lambroise to go this far. A man wouldn't do this even for his fiancée, let alone a contractual lover. There really is something to him, isn't there?

Or was it that she had lived so precariously herself that his generosity struck her like an accusation? Kasika wondered. There were people who spent money on others without a second thought — and among the nobility, they were plentiful.

People who could spend fortunes without ever noticing their assets shrink.

Noah might be one of them.

Kasika gave up on the thought and leaned back against the window seat. The sunlight, falling at nearly a vertical angle, made the leaves glitter. Each time the wind touched them, the surfaces of the leaves turned over. Beyond the shadow of the building, the sharp boundary of bright sun was visible. A bird called, short and regular, then fell silent. Before she knew it, even the wind had stilled, and the heat began to press in.

Kasika looked down again and caught sight of a stranger. At first, when she saw the blond hair, she thought it might be Lady Lambroise — but the build was different, and the face that came into view shortly after belonged to someone she didn't know.

Blond, then. A relative?

In any case, it seemed she was not the only guest staying at Lambroise.

The moment she moved to sit up, the door opened again. Kasika, caught in an awkward half-risen posture, soon let the tension go and sank back down. Lydia, paying her mistress's fidgeting no mind, said only, "Breakfast will be ready shortly."

Kasika nodded, then stared into the air as if turning something over in her mind before calling, "Lydia." Her eyes flashed, just for an instant. Lydia opened her mouth to ask whether there was yet another errand — but the moment she met that look, she realized her mistress was thinking of something else entirely. Every time Kasika's eyes took on that particular gleam, she caused a bit of trouble. The sort of trouble that could, admittedly, be smoothed over — but the process was always rather a bother.

"Wh-why are you looking at me like that?"

"After breakfast, I should like a dress fitted."

"...Shall I request a tailor to call here?"

"No."

Kasika shook her head.

"I'm going myself."

Lydia squeezed her eyes shut.

"Wouldn't you like to see the capital, too?"

Ordinarily, Lydia would have leapt at the chance. But one look at Kasika's face just then, and every such thought evaporated.

"I'll request a carriage — no. I'd better go see Lady Lambroise first."

It did not take long to secure an audience with Lady Lambroise. The daily lives of noblewomen were much the same everywhere: rise late, let the hours slip away in idle diversion. Granted, this was a great house, so there was more to oversee than at Lamplis. Where Kasika's duties had amounted to little more than ordering provisions and confirming that the house was being kept, Lady Lambroise had a great deal more to check — though with others on hand to do the actual checking, her obligation ended the moment she reviewed the finished reports, leaving the rest of the day to leisure.

Not that Kasika had expected everything to be wrapped up before the sun had even fully risen.

"You won't simply summon me?"

"I wanted to see the capital again, after so long," Kasika answered. The desserts arranged on the table were, as ever, all things Kasika liked. Consideration, perhaps? Or her imagination?

"Might you recommend somewhere respectable?"

"I couldn't say how things stand these days. Why not go with Elena?"

A name she'd never heard before. She was not a naturally sociable person, and her first impulse was to refuse — but given her circumstances, it was better to know one more person than not. Besides, if what Noah wanted was someone to show off...

"I'd be grateful for an introduction. Is she the lady of some house?"

"No — Elena is Cayden's fiancée. She comes from the Gamov family."

"Gamov — wouldn't that be from the Kievina territories?"

"That's where Cay was stationed."

That was news to her. Not that she'd ever had any need to know it. Kasika lifted her teacup and said quietly, "I did see a blond woman in the garden earlier. Is that Elena?"

"You saw her? She must have been out there since early morning."

With that, the lady turned her gaze toward the window. Sunlight that had been veiled by clouds slipped free for a moment, brightened the room, then was shaded again just as quickly.

"Elena loves nature. Very much like a Kievina native, you know."

Is that approval, or the opposite? Lady Lambroise could seem utterly transparent at one moment and completely unreadable the next. Kasika decided not to guess and simply let it pass. Idle speculation never helped anyone.

"I should like to go as soon as possible — though I do hope it wouldn't be an imposition."

"Not at all. Elena would enjoy it. She keeps standing reservations at the boutiques, you see."