The Risk

How could this happen? "I should have let Tenni do more here."

"It's not your fault," Blitz said. "It was a misdeal. There's not any blame to be had."

Mary pressed her face into his chest, weeping.

I felt lost. "Should we call the doctor?"

That seemed to move Blitz. "Yes, I'll send for the doctor."

"Here," I said to Mary, "let me bring you to bed, just until the doctor arrives."

Mary nodded, face downcast. I'd never been in their rooms since they moved in, and it was cozy. She'd done up the back area with pastel patterned wallpaper. "My mother said it brought bad fortune to paper the baby's area before it was born," Mary sobbed, sagging onto their bed. "How I wish I would have listened!"

I sat next to her, put my arm around her shoulders. "You heard your husband: there's no blame here. I'll strip the wallpaper myself if it'll make you feel better."

"It would." Tears flowed down her face. "I'd see it and weep all again. My baby! It's so pitiful a thing. So red and small."

"But you loved it, Mary. And you grieve its passing. Surely that means something."

Mary sat quiet. "Would you call one of the Dealers for me, mum? I'd like to see her."

"Of course."

Blitz stood in the hallway, head bowed, his face a mask of grief. I went to him, grasped his upper arms. "All will be well."

He shook his head. "It feels the opposite."

"I know." How might I help? "She's in bed. I'll strip the wallpaper tomorrow. She wants to see one of the Dealers, and -"

Blitz made to go to the door, but I stopped him, spoke gently. "I'll send for the messenger. Tenni will be here soon and can get dinner. You don't have to do anything but go to your wife."

A mixture of shame and anguish came over him. "I can't let her see me like this!"

"You're wrong. Grief is best done together. Give me the key."

He took the door key from around his neck and handed it to me.

"Now, go." I pushed him towards their rooms. "Grieve with her. This is how you can help best. Trust me: she will love you for it."

He moved down the hall, and I waited there until he'd rounded the corner and the sound of him entering his rooms faded.

Back when I was taken into house arrest, Tony had the house wired to shine a light at the door when we wished for a messenger. Now other houses were doing it as well.

When the boy came, I sent a message to the poorhouse asking for the Dealers' aid. I sent another to Jonathan Diamond, telling him I wished to see him at his convenience. Jon might know some way to help with the summons. It was dated a month hence, so there wasn't any rush to be had.

So I was surprised to see Jonathan arrive before one of the Dealers did. Not only that, but he was dressed as a servant on his day off might: white shirt, gray tweed vest and pants, with matching cap. And his eyes went wide when I answered the door. "Why do you answer the door, Jacqui? Is all well?"

"No, it's not. Please, come in." I drew him inside, closed the front door quietly behind him. "There's been ... medical trouble. We're waiting for the doctor to call."

"Jacqui, if it's serious, I can come back."

"Well, it is serious. But not contagious. Let's go into the parlor." I closed the door, drew him to the sofa. "Please sit. Do you want tea?"

"Not if it'll be a bother."

We both sat. I looked him over. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"I meant to bring you to see something. And where we're going, I thought it less conspicuous than to appear in top hat and tails." He chuckled to himself, then fell quiet.

"Did you get my letter?"

Jon appeared surprised. "No. When did you send it?"

"A half-hour ago."

"I haven't been home for twice that. Is something wrong?"

I took the summons from my pocket and gave it to him. "I don't have anything to do with this."

Jonathan shook his head. "Freezout again." He handed it back. "Let Tony's lawyers take care of it."

Probably best. "I don't understand why he keeps pestering me."

"You did say you thought he worked with your enemies - what were they called, Red Dogs?"

"The Red Dog Gang, yes."

Jonathan's eyes narrowed. "Are these the people framing my brother as well?"

He did that on remarkably little information. I'd never had the chance to tell him everything. "I believe they are."

He sat quietly, head bowed. "What is the connection here? Why -? Ah." His head rose. "As we thought."

"As who thought?"

Jon hesitated a long moment, gazing aside. "These men use Jack's illness, his reputation, his ... behavior. If they might cause suspicion to fall on him, everyone believes it. They fix attention upon him." He chuckled to himself. "As Mr. Hart once said: a sleight-of-hand," his jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. "But one using my brother. And to do so believably," he glanced up at me, "which they have, they have to have had spies upon him." He gave the tiniest shake of his head. "This is bad, Jacqui. Spies within Diamond quadrant?"

I assumed everyone had spies on them. "Is that so surprising?"

A soft laugh burst from him. "Well, yes, it actually is."

The bell rang, and when I answered it, Dr. Salmon stood there. "Come in," I said, "right this way." I went towards Blitz and Mary's rooms, and the doctor followed.

Once I got the doctor settled with Blitz and Mary, I set the kettle on, in case someone might want tea. Then I returned to Jon and sat across from him. "I'm surprised you dared come here alone."

Jon blinked. "Why?"

"According to the Golden Bridges, there are 'unsavory rumors' about me."

Jon rolled his eyes. "Yes, well you must consider the source. Why would anyone believe it?"

"Because I have men coming and going, and I'm from the Pot, so of course -"

Jon held up his hand. "You mustn't read such things, Jacqui."

He'd never spoken to me in such a direct way before. "I need to know what people think of me, if only for my own protection."

"Then have a servant do it, one who can bring anything important to your attention. Like when Amelia took care of your mail during the trial."

Perhaps Amelia might do that. Or Honor, if she found the Golden Bridges too distressing. "So what is this something I must see?"

I thought Jon might smile, but he didn't. "It'd be better if you saw it, rather than hearing about it from me."

"Well, now I'm intrigued! Whatever could it be?"

Jon didn't answer.

A soft knock on the hall door: Dr. Salmon peeked into the parlor.

I went to the door, leading the doctor into the hallway. Then I closed the door behind me. "How is she?"

"Grieving," he said softly, "but her body is well. All seems to have passed, and she has no fever or weakness. So I think she'll recover. Of course, it's a terrible blow, but she's still young. Give her a week without duties. I'll return to see her then. If she worsens, particularly if she runs a fever, please send for me at once."

"Thank you for seeing her," I said. "What do I owe you?"

He smiled at me. "I'm on my way to an appointment. It was no trouble at all."

"Thank you. But this must be the last time. We have money to pay." I unlocked the front door for him.

One of the Dealers, a middle-aged woman dressed in a forest green robe and matching headscarf, came up the steps. Behind her was one of her Apprentices, dressed the same but in pale green. I opened the door wide; the doctor moved outside to let them enter.

"Welcome, Blessed Lady." I curtsied low. "This is Dr. Salmon."

"Thank you, Mrs. Spadros," the woman said, ignoring the doctor entirely. "Where is the woman?"

Dr. Salmon smiled to himself, tipped his hat to their backs, and went down the steps.

"She's with her husband," I said. "Follow me." I closed the door, bringing the two women to Blitz and Mary's rooms.

The kettle had begun to whistle, so I made tea for myself and Jon. Then I returned to Jonathan with a tea-tray, leaving the door to the kitchen open.

Jon smiled. "I've never seen you with a tea-tray before."

I smiled to myself. "I suppose I'm a woman of many talents." I set the tray down and poured him a cup. "How far is this place you want to take me? How long will I be gone?"

Jon shrugged. "Depends on traffic. But it's early yet. No more than an hour."

"I shouldn't leave them until Tenni and the girls return from work, which won't be until just before tea-time." Tenni's littlest sister was in her room braiding twine. But I couldn't leave an eight-year-old to guard a household.

"There's no need, Mrs. Spadros," Blitz said, coming in from the kitchen. "I've been banished from the room." He seemed sad.

"I'm sorry, Blitz," I said.

Jonathan seemed surprised, but he held his tongue.

I said, "What would help?"

Blitz considered the matter. "I have no idea." Then he held out his hand. "I do need my key back, before Sawbuck returns and sees you with it."

The Dealers' footsteps rounded the corner from Blitz and Mary's rooms. I went to the door to the hall, Blitz following. "Thank you for coming," I said as they passed.

The two ignored us as thoroughly as if we weren't there, halting at the closed door.

Blitz hurried up, fumbling the key a bit, then opened the door. "My apologies, Blessed Lady."

She looked up at him. "You're the father?"

"I am," Blitz said.

"The Dealer's blessings upon you."

"Thank you."

The woman nodded and left without a further word.

Blitz closed the door. "That was very odd."

Suddenly afraid, I hurried to Mary's room, and Blitz followed.

Mary lay quietly on the bed, turning her face towards us when we entered. "Thank you for calling her for me."

I smiled at her. "You're quite welcome."

Blitz and I returned to the front hall. "If you need to go somewhere," Blitz said, "I can manage until the girls arrive. Will you be back for tea?"

"Let me make sure." I went into the parlor, and Jonathan rose. "Can we be back by tea-time?"

Jon glanced at the clock. "I don't think so."

I returned to Blitz. "Master Diamond and I will wait until after tea-time to go. You stay with your wife. Rest. We'll get the girls settled and dinner ready."

"Are you certain?"

"I am. And if Master Diamond wishes to do this another time, so be it. Mary's health and your well-being are more important than going on some outing."

Relief crossed his face. "Thank you, Mrs. Spadros."

"But I'll probably need the key to let the girls in."

He chuckled, taking it from his pocket and handing it back. "I suppose you will."

I put the key in my pocket and went back to the parlor, leaving the door to the hall open. Jonathan still stood by the sofa. "Jon, can we go after tea? I don't want to leave them alone here."

Jon's eyebrows rose, his head drawing back a bit. "Of course. It might be better. Jacqui, come sit down." After I did so, he said, "What's going on?"

Should I say? "It's not for me to tell, Jon."

"But the Dealers were here. Has someone died -? I see. Your housekeeper was with child, and is no more. I'm so sorry."

I felt astonished. How did he deduce this?

"Should I go?"

"No, Jon, you don't need to go, unless you must."

"Good gods," he said. "You must have thought me mad. You said you had medical trouble, yet I came in anyway. Please forgive me."

"All is well. Be at peace. Drink your tea."

The bell rang, and I answered it. Tenni and her sisters stood at the doorstep, a plain carriage driving off behind them. "Come in, but quietly," I said, and brought them into the parlor.

Jon rose when they came in. I closed the parlor door. "This is Master Diamond," I said, and all the girls curtsied.

"You're dressed funny for an upper," one of the girls said.

Jon's hand went to his mouth as he turned aside, stifling a laugh.

I said, "Master Jonathan is here to help. Mrs. Mary's fallen sick, and Mr. Blitz is with her. We must take care of things until she's well. I've already set the kettle on."

Tenni nodded, then turned to her sisters. "Put your things away and get changed, but quiet, then come to the kitchen. I'll see what we've got for dinner."

The girls scattered. Jon and I followed Tenni into the kitchen.

She glanced uneasily at Jon. "Will Master Diamond be cooking with us, then?"

"It's all right, Tenni. He's done it before." We'd had a lovely dinner to celebrate my reprieve from the gallows.

I pointed to the loaf sitting on the counter. "Jon, would you slice some bread for the sandwiches?"

He cast about for a knife, and found one, peering at the loaf as if it were some exotic and possibly dangerous creature.

I said, "Have you never sliced bread before?"

"I haven't."

"Well, then," I said, "now's your chance to learn." I took the paring knife from him, replacing it with a long serrated bread knife. "Slice it thin. Use a very light hand, sawing it gently, like so," I demonstrated on the end piece, "so as not to crush the loaf." Amelia had taught me that in those first months after I moved here.

I can't say Jon's tea sandwiches were the most elegant I've ever seen, but they tasted just fine. "I'm quite proud of you," I said. "It's not often a man will attempt something new, especially in front of a bunch of giggling girls."

Jonathan grinned. "I'm the youngest of seven brothers, all who wished to prove themselves superior."

"Including you?"

"Especially me, when I was younger. If I never tried anything new for fear of ridicule, I'd be quite useless now."

After tea, I put on my cloak, then followed Jon to his plain carriage. We crossed the bridge onto Market Center as the sun dipped below the horizon. The carriage turned left, drove half round the island along the Promenade, then crossed the bridge to Hart quadrant.

We finally stopped at an empty field in the Hart slums. "Come, let's walk," Jon said, so we did so.

Jon was quiet, somber. What could he have to show me here?

The homes were small. Windows showed families preparing dinner. The narrow streets were full of shop maids and day laborers. The air rang with good cheer, the sounds of men coming in to greet their families. Mothers called in their children, giving us curious glances. As we walked, the noise died away, the streets became silent.

Jon pulled me out of the light of the lamppost. He pointed across the street. "Look there."

A young woman sat upon a window-seat, back-lit by the lamps inside. Her face, downcast and streaked with tears. Thick curls draped about her shoulders. An older woman who had to be her mother bustled about, setting a table behind her.

"This woman," Jon said quietly, "met a man. He promised her love. He promised her marriage. He gave her gifts. Nothing too high for her station: flowers, a shawl. He even gave her an engagement ring. Once she'd succumbed to his kisses, though, she never saw him again."

A small child, three or so, came to her, gazed up, pulled on her skirts. The woman set the child on the window-seat beside her, yet continued to look out of the window.

"Every day she sits there," Jon said. "Until well into the night. Hoping he'll return, I suppose." He turned to me. "Her father took his life from the shame of it."

"Why are you showing me this?"

"Because I want you to see what I see. Look at this woman. Look at her child."

The light was dim, but still enough to see. Brown curls, light brown skin on them both. A carriage went by, and in the lantern's light, I saw the child's big green eyes.

He reminded me of someone.

"Who fathered this child, Jacqui?"

I blinked, confused. "How should I know?"

"The answer's there, right in front of you."

The eyes, the shape of the chin. I peered at the young woman, removing her features in my mind.

Jonathan said, "She's one of the women whose family came forward with the complaint against Joseph Kerr."

I stared at him, then at the boy. "I thought they went to the Pot."

"All these lawyers want are their court fees. They care nothing about what happens to these women and their children afterward. Fortunately, I got to her in time, dissuaded her mother from making formal protest."

He slumped against the wall. "This family used to live twice their current station. To keep her out of the Pot, after much searching, the mother found a man to sign that he'd wed her daughter. But it cost the family everything they'd saved over the years.

"This woman sends messages to Joseph Kerr every day, to every place she's ever heard rumor of him. She's posted bills. She's sworn the tenants at her old home to send word should he appear. But he never has."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

Jonathan took my hand. "I don't want you to say anything. I just want you to let go of some fantasy that Joseph Kerr is coming back for you. He's not come back for any of them. He got what he wanted and now he's gone."

"So this boy looks like him. It doesn't prove anything."

Jonathan shook his head. "Come on, then. I'll take you home."

But the little boy's eyes haunted me all the way.

Could this possibly be Joseph Kerr's son? Why would he not tell me of him? The boy was at least three. Had Joe been getting letters from this woman at his grandfather's home this entire time? When we planned to leave the city together, would he have just left this woman and their son behind?

"There's something more," Jonathan said. "All the children born to him were girls, save this one. She calls him Joey, but the name on his birth certificate is Polansky Joseph Kerr."

The first Polansky Kerr - Joe's ancestor - had been our King before he was betrayed by his own men. The Spadros Family financed the coup which murdered the King and destroyed the Pot of Gold. Of course, there were many justifications given for this betrayal. Then they locked my people away in the Pot, without food or water, to freeze and starve.

How could things ever return to the way they were? Yet hearing the name of the King on a living, breathing child was thrilling.

One day this place could be good, like he made it. No more cold, no more rags.

Joe said that long ago, before I'd been forced to marry Tony. He'd been speaking of Benjamin Kerr, the Inventor King, who'd built the dome which covered our city today.

Was this child somehow part of Joe's plan?

As the carriage crossed the river, Jonathan Diamond rubbed his face with his hands. "The city of Bridges will not - cannot - tolerate another Polansky Kerr. Not even the boy's great-grandfather uses his real name here. Why would she name her son this if Joe hadn't urged her to do so?" He hid his face in his hands for a moment, then straightened, not looking at me. "What Joseph Kerr has done is reckless. No, it's heartless. I fear for this child. I fear he'll not live to become a man."

"Well, then we must help them. I must go to her -"

"No, Jacqui. No! I put them in enough risk just bringing you to their street! If the Lady of Spadros were to visit a woman's home in the Hart slums, it would fix everyone's attention on her. A woman who's put out so many notices, with a son looking like Joseph Kerr ... it wouldn't be difficult for a determined man to learn the boy's real name."

"But I must speak with her to learn the truth!"

Jonathan recoiled. "Do you not believe me? Jacqui, I spoke with her almost four years ago, when her mother first brought claim. After she was found with child. I myself investigated the matter. She has a portrait with Joseph Kerr, the portrait they had done when he gave her the engagement ring."

He looked out of the window. "Jacqui, I wished to keep scandal from your home. That's why I helped her. Perhaps I should have told you about it before this, but I never imagined the situation would go this far! Your servants - and Mrs. Clubb - have kept your meetings with the Kerrs secret for now, but if word of this should appear elsewhere ... if the two of you should be linked together -!"

I nodded, feeling dismayed. Leaving Tony with the intent to flee with Joseph Kerr would become the top headlines. Tony and I would never get a moment's peace: we'd be hounded everywhere we went. Scandal would never leave Spadros Manor, ever, even if Tony divorced me and took another wife. Even Tony's grandchildren would be pointed at, whispered about.

And Roy would finally be forced to do what the Ten of Spades had agitated for all this time: kill me.

Knowing him, he'd probably force Tony to do it.

I felt humbled, and sincerely grateful that the Red Dog Gang hadn't learned of this. If they really wished to destroy the Spadros Family, they'd surely use it against me. The Golden Bridges would salivate over such a story. "I'm sorry - I don't know why I would ever doubt you." I reached over to take his hand. "Thank you."

He gave me a quick glance, then squeezed my hand. Then he drew his hand back, blushing as he looked away. When he next spoke, it sounded an effort for him to do so. "What I want is for you to be safe and happy and well. That's all."

"Jon, there's something - personal - I'd like to ask."

He hesitated, just an instant. "Anything at all."

"I spoke with Dr. Salmon. He said you'd been going to Azimoff."

"Yes, that's true."

"Which I'm glad for. But you said you wouldn't leave again without me. I don't understand. Shouldn't the doctors still see you?"

Jonathan faced the seat across from him with a thin smile. "There's nothing more they can do. My tonics are as strong as they can be. They dare not give me higher doses, for fear the medication itself might poison me." Still not looking at me, he grasped my hand. "The doctors here can tend to the rest."

Anguish filled me. I squeezed his hand. "How can this be?"

He smiled to himself. "A question I've asked myself often these past years." He leaned back, stared at the ceiling, still grasping my hand, yet his eyes were red. "I regret not telling you of this before. I see now that I need to - to make plans. For what I might do with the life that remains to me."

I wasn't sure why, or even how, but at that moment I finally understood: nothing would keep Jon from death. And my desire to talk about it, to find things to do for it ... it caused him pain.

"I won't leave you, Jon. No matter what happens. And if you wish it, I'll never speak of this again."

He kissed my hand. "I could think of much worse ways to greet the Shuffler." Then he smiled. "I'll be glad to have you along."