The Midnight Bargain

by C. L. Polk

  :You should have said,: Nadi muttered. :You let people hurt you too much.:

  Distress made Ysbeta’s voice small. She groped for Beatrice’s hand, turning wide dark eyes on her. “What do I do?”

  “We can escape this.” Beatrice took hold of Ysbeta’s shoulders. “Hold him off for as long as you can. We keep working to get you skilled, and then you can make the great bargain too.”

  Ysbeta stopped nodding. “Too?”

  “Don’t you see? I must do the spell now. Father expects an answer the day after tomorrow.”

  “I do not see.” Ysbeta shrugged out of Beatrice’s grasp. “If you do this tomorrow, you will be the perfect scandal. Your father won’t just let you skip out into the street to call on whomever you please. And even if he did, I couldn’t be seen with you if you do this. If I give the book to you now, it destroys my chances.”

  Ysbeta was right. If she did this, Ysbeta couldn’t be seen with her. Why, Beatrice would probably have to leave Bendleton immediately.

  It was too late.

  Ysbeta’s expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Beatrice. But Ianthe will need you, after I’m finished. Why can’t you—oh no, that one’s mine.”

  Ysbeta stared at the podium, where a golden basket trimmed in turquoise ribbon rested. The auctioneer had barely listed the contents before Lord Powles raised his paddle.

  “A thousand crowns,” Bard Sheldon said.

  The crowd murmured, but another paddle shot up.

  “A thousand five hundred,” Ellis Robicheaux said. “I adore berry-roasted songbird, you know that.”

  “Two thousand crowns,” another bidder declared.

  The crowd murmured as another gentleman raised his paddle and declared twenty-five hundred. Bard looked like a thunderstorm hovered on his brow.

  “Five thousand crowns,” Bard Sheldon said, and the crowd gasped. Ysbeta made a small noise of distress.

  “Fine, if you’re going to be that way,” Ellis said, and bowed. One by one, each gentleman gave way to Bard’s bid. The crowd applauded as Lord Powles marched up and accepted his basket. He returned to offer his arm to Ysbeta, and together they walked away to claim a patch of lawn.

  :What are they doing?:

  :Buying the right to eat with the lady who brought the basket.:

  :But that’s my lunch,: Nadi said.

  :We’ll get our share,: Beatrice soothed. :We share it.:

  She put on an interested face to watch the rest of the auctions, but a figure stopped before her, and so Beatrice offered a smile to Danton Maisonette. “Hello again.”

  Danton bowed, his arms describing the graceful spiraling flourish of Valserran aristocracy. “Will you do me the pleasure of sharing your luncheon, Miss Clayborn?”

  :I don’t want to share with him. Make him go away.:

  Beatrice donned her smiling, polite mask. “I would be happy to dine with you, Mr. Maisonette, should you prove victorious in today’s auction.”

  “All I can ask for.” He smiled. “Excellent. Ah. I see the moment is upon us.”

  Beatrice’s reed basket was next on the podium, and Danton raised his paddle at the opening bid of a hundred crowns. Ianthe bid a hundred and fifty, but other paddles shot into the air, raising the asking bid swiftly.

  “You have captured the fancy of many gentlemen, Miss Clayborn.” Danton raised his paddle to accept a bid of four hundred crowns. Ianthe kept his arm raised for five hundred.

  “Some of them have already dropped out.”

  “Convenient,” Danton said. “But it will be a spirited battle. Lord Powles has made his choice clear. Other courtships are moving fast. Yours is a desirable basket among wealthy ungifted gentlemen, Miss Clayborn. I would expect to be extremely busy in the coming weeks. You have your pick.”

  Including Danton himself, and he said so with his smile. Beatrice slid the vanes of her fan open and wafted a breeze over her hot cheeks. “I never considered the circumstance.”

  :What do they want?:

  :A wife,: Beatrice said. :And if I am made one, we may never speak again.:

  :No. No!: Nadi clenched her fists. :Don’t be a wife.:

  :If I don’t get the grimoire of the great bargain, I have no choice.:

  :But if you make the great bargain, you don’t need Nadi anymore.:

  And she would miss the spirit, however difficult it was, however greedy and impulsive. Everything would be upset; nothing would be the same.

  “One thousand, two hundred fifty crowns?”

  Danton raised his paddle. Only two other bidders besides Ianthe were still in the thick of it. Danton glanced at her, his face somehow inquisitive and secure in the bliss of knowing everything. “This is your first bargaining season, is it not?”

  “You are correct,” Beatrice said.

  “It is my sister’s third,” Danton said.

  “I thought she was a sorceress.” Beatrice scanned the crowd for a woman in the same shade of pale green as her brother and beheld the woman from the Assembly Dance and the Robicheaux ball. She was pretty, with a tip-tilted nose and blond hair that shone in the sunlight, but her three-cornered hat had too many feathers in it, and the black ribbon ruffles trimming every seam of her jacket were just a bit too much. But over-trimmed clothing was no reason to pass over a sorceress. Three bargaining seasons? How?

  “She is.” Danton raised his paddle, a slight glow of sweat shining his forehead. “She has gone through two seasons without accepting a proposal, and our parents have determined that this will be the last. They will indulge her no more.”

  Beatrice glanced at Danielle again. Could she be resisting the yoke of the warding collar, as she and Ysbeta were?

  “Is that unusual?”

  “Most,” Danton said. “But understandable.”

  Beatrice fought to maintain a serene expression. “I will not pry, but I admit curiosity.”

  “It’s simple,” Danton said. “Three years ago, we attended the premiere of the most fashionable opera in Masillia.”

  Beatrice’s attention bloomed. “Masillian opera is the finest in the world. But how does it make Miss Danielle refuse matrimony?”

  “True love.” He swallowed and lifted his paddle to declare three thousand crowns. “The best of Masillia attended. As did the Lavans and their children: the beautiful Miss Ysbeta and her handsome brother, Ianthe.”

  Beatrice cocked her head. Ianthe raised his paddle to accept four thousand, five hundred. The crowd watched, entertained by the battle between two bidders. “You remember this.”

  “I shall never forget,” Danton said. “It was the night my sister fell hopelessly in love. She gazed at him through the entire performance. He danced with her at a royal ball the next day. And then he sailed away from Valserre and returned home to Llanandras, taking Danielle’s heart with him.”

  “Oh,” Beatrice said.

  “Five thousand crowns?” the auctioneer asked.

  Danton bit his lip, then sighed and raised his paddle.

  Ianthe had never lowered his. He stood amid the bidding crowd, hand raised like the statues of enlightenment earned, his bidding paddle the torch of knowledge.

  “Five thousand, five hundred crowns,” The auctioneer said. “Six thousand?”

  All eyes turned to Danton. He clenched his jaw and lowered his hand in defeat.

  The crowd cheered. Danton licked his lips and turned to Beatrice, his slightly sour breath billowing over her cheek. “You’re pretty enough. And the power of your sorcery compensates for your low birth. You can have dozens of men in the palm of your hand if you reach out to take them, and your father will dance with joy to drive up the price. My sister has loved Ianthe Lavan hopelessly since she first saw him. I beg you—choose someone else. For love’s sake.”

  Beatrice’s mouth dropped open. “You ask this of me?”

  “I will do anything to ensure my sister’s happiness,” Danton said. “I will beg. I will cheat. I will steal. And I will reveal that I saw you cast a circle
on the seaside dressed in nothing but your shift and cavorted along the shore until dawn came, until the spirit you hosted left your body.”

  Beatrice’s heart dropped like a stone. “You let a home on Triumph Street? But your father had a house on Gravesford Road.”

  “My father does live on Gravesford Road. I let number twenty for the sake of my privacy.”

  Oh, Beatrice had known someone was watching! She had felt it, and dismissed it, while Danton hid away and watched her. This was blackmail! Danton was a knave!

  :Let me hex him,: Nadi said.

  :No.:

  :But he’s hurting you.:

  “No one else saw you but me,” he said. “Anyone else would have wagged their tongue the moment they stepped into a tearoom. I alone possess your secret, and I will use it. I must act on behalf of my sister.”

  :I hate him.:

  “Mr. Maisonette,” Beatrice said, but what could she tell him? What could she say? “I understand the sincerity of your feelings, but even if I agreed, that’s no guarantee you can get what your sister wants.”

  “But you do not agree,” Danton said. “You want him.”

  She didn’t! She did. But the truth was crueler than that. “I fear I do not have the luxury of choice that you imagine, Mr. Maisonette. My heart aches for your sister, but you cannot buy another man’s regard for her. You can’t steal it. And you are welcome to report what you saw to my father, if you like. But I must do what I must do. I am sorry.”

  Danton grabbed for her hand. “Please.”

  “Excuse me.”

  Ianthe squinted at Danton, his newly won luncheon basket hanging in the crook of his arm. Danton Maisonette let go of Beatrice’s hand, turned one pivoting foot, and left, headed for the horse pickets without a word of farewell.

  “Was he bothering you?” Ianthe asked.

  “He—was speaking to me of his sister. Danielle—”

  “I’m acquainted.” Ianthe offered his arm. “Slightly. Shall we see if Bard saved us the plot next to his?”

  Bard had indeed saved a spot for Ianthe, and they rested under the spreading, fragrant canopy of a flowering cherry tree, far away from the open lawn that rang with laughter and the smell of a few hundred horses picketed at the lower end of the park. They shared the dishes tucked inside each lady’s basket, and Beatrice did her best to hide her turmoil.

  Ysbeta wouldn’t budge. Ianthe had announced to all of society that he would spend a skilled professional’s yearly wages to claim her for a lunch companion. Danton Maisonette had tried to blackmail her, and—what had possessed her to invite him to try? She didn’t have a way to defend against his slander. If he did spread the story of her capering on the beach in her shift, her whole family would pay.

  Lord Powles turned a pleased smile on Ysbeta. “Ellis heard a rumor that you had roasted songbirds in your basket, Miss Lavan.”

  “I do,” Ysbeta said, and only someone looking closely would notice that her hands shook, and the cords of her neck stood out in distress. Her face, an enviable heart-shaped, flawless mask, smiled so prettily nearly anyone would be fooled.

  Beatrice glanced away, reluctant to expose Ysbeta’s facade, and caught sight of Danton and Danielle Maisonette, trailing a young man both siblings ignored. They wandered all around the greensward, dismissing empty picnic cloths as Danielle’s overly feathered hat swiveled this way and that. Beatrice’s stomach sank as she watched Danielle comb every foot of lawn, shaking off her brother’s hand on her arm as she searched, but at last she came to the corner where smartly clad young couples shared an auctioned lunch under the cherry blossoms.

  Danielle collapsed in a heap of skirts at an empty blanket, staring at Ianthe.

  Ianthe didn’t notice at all. “Bard and I were in the same chapterhouse for two years.”

  “Anthy all but dragged me through the dorms by the ear,” Bard laughed. “I’m glad he made it here in time to stand for me at my Ordeal of the Rose.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t miss it.” Ianthe offered Bard a berry-roasted songbird from Ysbeta’s dishes.

  “Thank you.” Bard ate the little creature whole, his teeth grinding the delicate flesh and fragile bones to morsels.

  Ianthe looked away. “Chef outdid himself with your basket, Ysy.”

  “Indeed, it’s a feast,” Lord Powles agreed. “But it is the combination of rare morsels and well-made, solid fare that is the real success.”

  :Have one of those bird-things,: Nadi said.

  :I can’t bear them,: Beatrice replied. :They’re cruelly made. They hurt the poor little bird terribly, and then they drown them in distilled spirits of wine.:

  :You feel sad,: Nadi said. :Eat a strawberry. You like those.:

  Lord Powles opened Beatrice’s bottle, pouring out a white to accompany the small treats that began a basket luncheon. “This is a rare wine, Miss Clayborn.”

  “Thank you,” Beatrice said. “You may have the other songbird, if you wish.”

  “Really? They’re such a delightful taste,” Powles said. Beatrice flinched as his teeth crunched together. He sipped some wine and smiled at Ysbeta. “I never complimented you on your habit, Miss Lavan.”

  “Thank you,” Ysbeta said. “It’s an old favorite.”

  “And you are enchanting in it,” Lord Powles said. “I mean to turn over a new leaf with you. I know our parents desire this match, but Ianthe told me something important yesterday, and I mean to heed it.”

  “Oh?” Ysbeta offered up thick sliced white bread, spread with pale green herbed butter. “I have coffee-roasted beef. Beatrice, what do you have?”

  “Duck breast in sweet mustard.”

  “One of each, please,” Lord Powles said, and helped himself. “At any rate, he came out to Breakwater House, looking as if thunder was going to crash at any moment, and he said to me, ‘If you don’t feel love in your heart when you look at her, Sheldon, then find someone else.’”

  Ysbeta shot a glance at her brother. “Did he.”

  Ianthe looked back, his expression apologetic.

  “Oh, indeed. I could hardly sleep,” Lord Powles laughed. “I knew he had promised me a mortal end if I’d done you wrong, Miss Lavan. I stayed up half the night wondering how I felt. But then I saw you standing in a ray of sunlight, and my heart knew such joy—it’s unfashionable, I know.”

  Ysbeta gazed at Beatrice, and the hollow, horror-tinged set of her mouth was too much. Beatrice looked away, a weight on her shoulders.

  Nadi shrugged. :She is unlucky.:

  :But it’s my fault.:

  Nadi made a skeptical noise. :It isn’t.:

  Off at the Maisonette spread, Danielle watched Ianthe, who drank straw-colored wine from a round-bottomed glass. Her lips moved, and Beatrice guessed they were pleas for Ianthe to please turn, please notice she was there.

  Oh, it hurt to watch, both Danielle’s anguish and Ianthe’s cheerful ignorance. He tilted his head and studied Beatrice, and then followed the direction of her gaze.

  Danielle gasped and waved. Danton glowered. Ianthe turned back to Beatrice, his expression knitted in concern.

  :Danton hates you. All those kind words earlier were lies.:

  :I know.:

  Nadi puffed up in aggression. :I won’t let him hurt you.:

  :Nadi, remember what we said about hexing people?:

  :Only when you say,: Nadi said. :But you should say, Beatrice. Nadi can feel his hate from here.:

  Ianthe cleared his throat, and Beatrice hastily gave him her attention. “Did you say something?”

  “I know it’s not my business, but I ask again. Is Danton Maisonette bothering you, Miss Clayborn?”

  Beatrice looked down at her wine. “He wanted something from me, and I was disinclined to honor his request.”

  “—winter in Llanandras, and then return to Chasland for the summer. At least until I’m the minister,” Bard Sheldon was saying.

  Ysbeta ignored him to lean closer to Beatrice and Ianthe. “What request? Did he a
sk you to refuse Ianthe’s victory? As if the likes of Danton Maisonette had anything to match my brother.”

  Beatrice sighed. “He did, but not necessarily so I would share my company with him.”

  Sheldon realized Ysbeta wasn’t listening to him anymore. “Then what reason did he have?”

  Beatrice bit her lip. “It’s gossip.”

  “My favorite,” Bard Sheldon said. “I am a most avid gossip. Now you have to tell us.”

  Beatrice glanced at the Maisonettes. “It’s his sister, Danielle.”

  Ianthe groaned and dropped his forehead into his palm. “That cursed bet.”

  “Bet?” Lord Powles looked from Ianthe to Danielle. “What bet?”

  “Eliza Robicheaux wagered Danielle that she would win Ianthe’s attention before Danielle could,” Ysbeta explained. “Embarrassing.”

  Lord Powles glanced at the Maisonettes. “Hm. She’s not ugly. A little weak in sorcerous potency. But she dresses herself in the dark.”

  “That’s unkind,” Beatrice said. “Danielle is infatuated with Ianthe. She has been ever since they met in Masillia three years ago. She has resolutely refused all suitors, waiting for Ianthe to arrive in Bendleton so she could win his regard.”

  “Oh.” Ianthe glanced at Danielle. Beatrice’s heart wrenched as Danielle went pale under all the attention from Ianthe’s party. She had to know they were talking about her. Ianthe slipped the napkin out of the collar of his shirt. “That poor girl. I have to explain to her.”

  “You will sit right there, Ianthe Antonidas Lavan, and you will do no such thing,” Ysbeta said. “Stop staring at her, Lord Powles. Everyone stop and attend to our own business.”

  “But Ysy, I have to—”

  “If you walk over there right now, she’ll hope,” Ysbeta said. “And then when you tell her, no matter how gently you tell her that her affections are not reciprocated, you’ll break her heart.”

  “But—”

  Ysbeta pointed an admonishing finger. “And you’ll humiliate her even more than she is right now. You will pay her a proper call in the privacy of her home, and you will give her every dignity you can. Do you hear me?”