Senlin Ascends: Book One of the Books of Babel by Josiah Bancroft

Author:Josiah Bancroft [Bancroft, Josiah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2017-08-21T11:00:00+00:00

The next day, she arrived in a new dress: a pale blue strapless gown that flattered her figure and accentuated her slender neck. The dress was free of the usual foofaraw, the frosts of sequins and explosions of feathers that seemed popular of late. It was a classic and stately dress, free of any ornament except for the staging of her décolletage. It was a dangerous dress.

Trying his best to appear undisturbed by her transformation, Ogier asked how the search for her husband was progressing. Marya confided that Mr. Fossor’s methods were a little circuitous.

The previous evening, after their session, she’d again met Mr. Fossor at the Crepe House, and he had insisted that they postpone dinner until she’d had a chance to change into her proper evening attire.

“My dear, I have been busy sowing the seeds of your virtue with my friends.” Mr. Fossor said, taking a pinch of snuff and turning his head to delicately expel it on the sidewalk. He apologized, and then repeated the process twice more. When he finally regained himself, his eyes were red from sneezing. “I have written dozens of letters on your behest, and already there are some in the Coterie, I believe, who have developed an interest in you.” He leaned over their table, his jowls pinched in around his earnestly puckered mouth. “One or two of them may be prepared to throw all of their resources behind the search for your husband. Believe me, these are the most principled of men, but they are also practical. They won’t endorse someone who appears …” He glanced mournfully at her tattered blouse. “… destitute. They have learned that poverty naturally makes a person dishonest. So, they are suspicious. You must appear hopeless but not helpless, if that makes sense. In short, we must polish you.”

Marya confessed that all of her luggage had been stolen in the Market and that she was, at present, short on resources. Paying Ms. Curd for room and board and retaining Fossor’s services was the limit of her finances.

Fossor immediately, almost eagerly, proposed that he buy her a dress. “I’m sure that your husband will be able to compensate me for any out of pocket expenses, and I know a brilliant seamstress who owes me a favor.” When Marya argued that she would be uncomfortable being too greatly in his debt, he insisted. “Think of it this way: you must at least give me a chance to succeed. I have already invested so much in this effort. If I fail to find your husband, you may keep or return the dress, as you like.” He smiled, his jowls rising a little wolfishly.

Though unhappy with the arrangement, she could not argue with his logic. If she appeared as a pauper, she likely would be treated as one. So, she spent the remainder of the evening being fitted for a new dress, as directed by Fossor, at a rather posh boutique.

While he painted, Ogier listened to her account with increasing alarm.

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