On the subject of missing items

[Christine Daye]

The shop bell jingles as the door opens, and a woman dressed head to toes in shades of rich green enters. Humming a Christmas carol ("In the bleak midwinter"), she wears a finely cut walking gown in green wool, made in the latest fashion, with a thick, high necked green woolen half cape to keep out the chill, her green top hat perched on top of her carefully pinned up red hair. Instead of the usual lady's reticule she carries a red leather music case in one green satin gloved hand.

She looks around the shop with a vague curiosity, her eyes lingering on some particularly fine gold and rust shot taffeta. But there is something in her manner that speaks of something not quite right. Perhaps it is the lost look in her eyes, or the humming - for the carol is being hummed slowly and with great sadness.

[Jacob Swainswick]

The shop-front was initially empty; the door that led deeper within open and emitting the cosy gas-light glow of the hallway beyond. At the sound of the bell, rapid footsteps presaged the emergence of Miss Audley's young apprentice.

"Good evening, Miss Daye," Swainswick smiles warmly. "It's a pleasure to see you again. How may I be of service?"

He steps rapidly around the counter to offer her assistance with her cape. "I hope your gown well-received at the ball?"

There was something in the young lady's posture that hinted at melancholy; but it was hardly his place to enquire.

[Christine Daye]

Christine smailes warmly at Jacob, allowing him to take her cape with grace.

"Mr Swainswick, the pleasure is mine. I do hope the season finds you well? And oh, the ball! My gown was much admired, thank you again so much for your efforts, and to your mistress for her skill, and impeccable eye for colour and design! I have worn the other gowns to perform... and I must tell you... the beauty of them I find quite inspirational! There is no doubt in my mind that when I wear them, my performance is lifted to new heights."

Her face falls.

"Not that with the current climate I have much of an audience to play for. Oh, I do hope the authorities can restore the peace. Playing to half empty houses is most tiresome!"

She goes silent for a moment, then giggles self-deprecatingly.

"But hark, I am wittering on again, and you are too kind to stop me! I must come to the point, Maestra says..."

Her voice trails off again as her face falls, and she covers her expression by opening her music case and pulling out a single, long green glove. Crystal beads embroidered on the sleeve glitter in the light.

"You will think I am terribly careless," she says. "But I must confess, that I have lost the partner to this glove. Well... in truth... I am not sure if I have lost it... Maestra is always chiding me for losing my gloves... but I do think that it is not my fault.... I think... I have my suspicions that some of the stagehands steal them... to sell... to my admirers... well... that is neither here nor there... but... can you make another to match this one? I cannot wear the gown without gloves to match... I'm sure you understand! And do you have any more gloves in stock? In green?"

She looks hopeful.

[Jacob Swainswick]

"Au contraire, Miss Daye, there can be few things more agreeable than circumlocutory intercourse. It will please Miss Audley to no end to hear what you have to say of her work." As he speaks, Jacob gives the racks of thin wooden shelves on one wall a calculating look. He pulls first one, then a second, clear of the stacks, laying each side-by-side on the counter. A panoply of shades, from jade through to muted autumnal colours, presents itself.

"These, I think are in your size." He runs his fingers lightly over a selection, sorting them as he goes. "This colour is a match, I think. Hmm." Tapping his thumbnail against his teeth, he pauses again to think. "I believe we also have some walking gloves in a wonderful dark green suede. They'd be eminently suitable for caroling. I'll fetch them in a moment. As for these, if I may..."

He takes the singleton evening glove from her, holds it out for inspection.

"These were bespoke, of course. I believe we still have some of the fabric. If you'll excuse me for but a moment, I'll confirm that."

Swainswick, of course, knews full well the inventory of the Silver Thimble; but it seemed as good an excuse as any. Besides, his customer was staring, wide-eyed as an urchin pressing their nose against a confectioner's window, seemingly amazed by the casual display of so much fingery.

(At that thought he mentally chided himself; the metaphor had sprung unbidden, he knew not whence, but the comparison could not be less suited to a member of their refined clientele.)


He knocked against the jamb of the workroom door. Miss Audley had really not been herself of late, seeming lost in a dark introspection from which his cheerful attempts could not lift her. Perhaps some distaff company - not to mention Miss Daye's effusive approval of his mistress' work - would prove the tonic.

"Miss Audley," he said, quickly and quietly, "Miss Daye is here. She seeks to replace the partner to this." He held up the article for her to see. "And she has some marvelous things to say of your work. Would you care to speak with her?"

[Valentina Audley]

Valentina looks up listlessly at Jacob's entry. She puts the ruffle she was hemming down and tilts her head considering. Christine's habit of endless chattering could be very useful to acquire some of the more inconsequential information Valentina wants. Of course she'd need careful steering but the gentle challenge could be fun. Also it could further Jacob's education. Very well then.

She smiles up at him. "Darling, how would you like to further your apprenticeship?"

[Jacob Swainswick]

The young man's eyebrows shoot up. "Naturally, I'm at your disposal."

[Valentina Audley]

"If you like, you can wait on us as we talk. The mortals who serve in that capacity are known as ghouls darling and I shall let her know you are such, so Miss Daye will know that she may speak freely in front of you." She pauses, considering.

"If you have questions, ask me afterwards though. It wouldn't do to let Miss Daye know that it is a training opportunity for you."

She searches through the piles of fabric until she locates an embroidery hoop with a design sketched out. She picks out a few skeins of thread, drops them on top of the hoop and stands. "Shall we go?"

[Jacob Swainswick]

"What a morbid term!" Swainswick pulls a face, surprised. "Who on Earth coined that?"

He catches himself, recomposing his neutral demeanour. "Do not fret, Miss Audley. I shall pay very good attention."


"Miss Daye! I have good news - we do indeed have some of the fabric required to produce a replacement for you," Swainswick announces, as he re-enters the shop-front. "Have you come to any conclusions about those others?"

[Christine Daye]

Christine looks up, as if caught by surprise.

"Oh, Mr Swainswick! Oh... yes... these...and these... and, oh, these...and these are so pretty! And these...but they are too short...which is a shame because the colour is quite, quite lovely!"

She has a small pile of gloves set to one side, all in shades of green. Quickly she counts the pairs.

"One, two, three, four... and you said you had a dark green suede? Oh, no, I cannot, Maestra will be quite wroth with me if I come back with five new pairs of gloves..."

A flicker of emotion (pain?) crosses her face, then she sets it in a determined expression.

"I shall have these. All of them," she says firmly. "And, please, a replacement partner for the crystal embroidered glove. I am so glad that you have the fabric to make a replacement! You have my word that I shall guard these with much greater care from now on!"

She stands back from the pile of gloves, and clasps her hands properly in front of her.

"Is...is...is Miss Audley receiving visitors? I mean... I quite understand if she is not... and if not, then I shall do no more to impose upon you than to pass on my very best wishes...in fact... now I think of it...I do not wish to intrude...no doubt she has much important business to attend to...her art...I understand the demands of the creative condition, you see... one is a slave to one's art...and one simply cannot deny inspiration when it chooses to strike...so please...do not disturb her on my account... but do please tell her I called...and wish her the compliments of the season..."

Her words fade away into a low hum, her fingers clasped tight around each other.

[Valentina Audley]

Valentina chooses that moment to make her entrance. Bustling in she puts the hoop and threads down on a chair near the door before advancing on Christine, with her hand outstretched, smiling sweetly at her.

"Will you not tell me yourself darling? It's so lovely to see you here again!" Her tone is friendly and light, the worries and cares well hidden for now.