The Vanished Pearls of Orlov

"Tell the daimyo it is life and death."

     Grimaldi stalked through the house with his silver tray, his face a blank mask. His rigid posture indicated to anyone who knew him how distasteful he found this particular errand. He was bearing a letter for that rotted ham, Albion, about his daughter, Miss Yilanda. Regrettably, the daimyo had not yet arrived. He would be most disapproving over the letter's demand and as the head of the family, his desires would take precedence over Albion's.

     Grimaldi had not opened and read the letter. It wasn't his place to do so.

     It was his place to ask the panting Orlov servant what was the desperate hurry and he had done so. Surprisingly, the Orlov servant — it was hard to tell if he was poorly trained or disapproved of the errand — had told him the contents of the daimyo of Orlov's letter. Dreadful. Simply dreadful. Poor Miss Yilanda. Who was here to support her? The always capable Miss Ulla had yet to return. At least the young men and their guest had returned. They appeared to have been fighting in a cesspit, but they were currently scrubbing themselves clean.

     Grimaldi stopped. Should he inform Master Charlton before or after finding Albion? Miss Yilanda was his sister and he had heard via the grapevine that Master Charlton was finally shaping up. Master Charlton had been considerate at the front door, confirming what Grimaldi had been told. He considered what the Orlov servant had said along with the unsavory gossip he knew about the daimyo of Orlov.

     Well then. He would inform Master Charlton of the contents before he spoke to Albion. Perhaps Master Charlton would do something to rescue his sister. Perhaps my lord Zachery would have arrived by then and taken charge. Then he would not have to speak to Albion any more than the minimum necessary.

     ***

     Iolanthe cautiously unlocked and opened the heavy door. The sot would never be this quiet so it was probably safe. He couldn't stop himself from making sure everyone within earshot knew what he was doing.

     She was rewarded with the butler, Matusda, alone and nervous, but she still darted a quick glance up and down the hallway to be sure they were alone. It would be just like Rastislav to suddenly change his behavior to cause more problems.

     Then Matusda told her about the sot's change of plans.

     "Oh dear," Iolanthe said. "Are you quite sure?"

     "Yes, Miss Iolanthe," Matusda murmured. "The daimyo was proud of his cleverness and boasted of it to me. I thought you should know at once."

     "Has my brother returned yet?"

     "No, Miss Iolanthe."

     "Inform me at once when he returns." She sent a quick prayer to the Orlov ancestors: please, please let Dimitri return quickly from whatever he's wasting time on.

     "Yes, Miss Iolanthe."

     "Thank you. You may go."

     She closed the heavy door behind her and relocked it. She limped back to her chair and sat down, anxiously twisting her hands one around the other.

     "A problem, Miss Iolanthe?" Nelly asked.

     "Yes. Leave me so I can think."

     Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear. Time was about to run out, for Yilanda DelFino and for her.

     Bile rose and flooded her mouth. She couldn't do it. No matter what Yilanda DelFino's letter implied about her lack of morals, today was her eighteenth birthday. She couldn't be a hardened adventuress like Mrs. Pondicherry, not at her age. Worse, she might be fertile, either with the daimyo or with some lover. Rastislav's line would be continued and the demesne would continue down the path of ruin.