Two days after my visit to Doctor Dane, a small letter arrived on a silver tray.
It was written in violet ink, on pink paper that smelled of . I knew the handwriting at once. It was round and quick and a little messy, like the girl herself.
*Dearest Elise, I am sorry about the other night. I behaved like a fool. Please come to tea on Thursday and let me explain. I have missed you terribly. Yours always, Vivi.*
I read it twice. In my first life, Vivienne's letters had always made me smile. This one made my stomach hurt. *Yours always.* The girl who had not visited me once in prison.
"Will you go, my lady?" Nora asked, from the .
"Yes," I said. "A suspect must be studied from close."
"She is also your friend."
"I know," I said quietly. "That is what makes it difficult."
The Hart family lived in the old quarter of Highmarch, in a tall narrow house with a green door. I remembered it as the warmest, most cheerful house in the city, full of music and flowers and laughter.
Now the green door needed paint. One of the windows was covered with a board. There were no flowers in the window boxes, only dry brown . When the maid let us in, I saw pale squares on the wall where paintings used to hang, and the hall table was missing. Someone had sold it.
"You see?" Nora whispered. "They are poor."
"Not poor," I whispered back. "Ruined. There is a difference."
In my first life, I had visited this house many times, and I had never noticed anything. I had been too happy, and too young, and too busy being loved.
"Elise!"
Vivienne flew down the stairs in a pink dress, her brown curls bouncing, and threw her arms around me. This time, her hands were warm. She was smiling so brightly that it almost hurt to look at her.
"You came! I was so afraid you would not! Come, come, I have cake. Theo! Theo, come and greet Elise!"
A thin boy of about fourteen appeared at the top of the stairs. He had Vivienne's brown eyes, a pale face, and a jacket that was too small for his wrists. He coughed into his before he bowed.
"Lady Elise. It is an honor."
"Theo, you were only this tall when I last saw you," I said, holding my hand at my , and he laughed, and coughed again.
"Theo has a bad chest," Vivienne said quickly. "It is only the spring air. Go and rest, darling."
He went, but he looked back at his sister with worried eyes.
Tea was served in the small drawing room. The cups did not match. The cake was dry. Vivienne talked so much and so fast that I could hardly follow her. She talked about the weather, about a new hat, about a hundred small, bright things. She talked like a person running across thin ice, who must never stop.
I waited until her cup was in her hand. Then I said, as lightly as I could, "Vivi, I have some news."
"Oh?"
"I have been thinking about the prince. I think I was foolish to say no." I smiled shyly. "He is kind, and clever. I have decided that I will accept his proposal after all. Perhaps even this week."
Vivienne's stopped halfway to her lips.
It was a very small thing. Anyone else would have missed it.
But I was watching her hands.
"No," Vivienne said.
It came out of her like a cough, before she could stop it. The color ran out of her face. "I mean — no, you must not. Not so soon. I mean, it is so sudden, Elise, you only just refused him, and everyone will think —"
The cup shook in her hand. A little tea into the saucer.
"Vivi," I said gently. "Why do you care so much?"
"I don't! I only —" Her eyes filled with tears. She put her cup down, and it clattered against the saucer, and then, quite suddenly, it slipped. The fine china fell on the wooden floor and broke into six pieces.
Neither of us moved.
The silence was enormous. Somewhere upstairs, Theo coughed. And in the middle of the broken china, my best friend stood with her hands over her mouth, shaking like a leaf.