I had made a mistake.
Not a particularly serious one, but an inconvenient one all the same. When I’d left the Vellmore estate earlier that afternoon, I’d been wearing Felix’s face. Garret had spent most of the day seeing me in that appearance, and she’d agreed to meet me after work because of an arrangement I’d made while impersonating him.
The problem was that the original Felix had apparently returned to his duties after I’d left.
And I had no way of putting his face back on.
Facsimile’s daily allowance was already spent. At Rank F, I had one hour, and once that hour was gone, there was no getting it back until the following day. The identity I’d stored remained available, but that didn’t mean I could use it whenever I pleased. I would have to make do with my own face, which was hardly an option when Garret expected to meet Felix.
I settled on a scarf pulled high over my nose and mouth. It wasn’t ideal, but it concealed enough of my face to make recognition difficult. My eyes were still visible, of course, and there was no guarantee she wouldn’t notice something was wrong. Still, it was better than arriving with an entirely different face and hoping she wouldn’t ask questions.
The meeting place was a modest establishment a short walk from the estate. It wasn’t particularly busy, which suited me. I chose a table near the wall and waited, keeping my head slightly lowered whenever someone entered.
Garret arrived a few minutes later.
She spotted me almost immediately and approached with a curious expression. Her gaze lingered on the scarf before she pulled out the chair opposite me.
"You’re looking rather miserable now, Felix."
I gave a small cough, partly for effect. "I’m afraid I’m not feeling particularly well."
"Then why did you come?"
"I didn’t want to leave you waiting. Besides, it’s only a cold. Must have caught it while we were working today." I gestured vaguely towards my face. "I’d rather not pass it on."
She studied me for a moment, clearly unconvinced. "You could have sent word."
"I could have."
"But you didn’t."
"No. I suppose I didn’t think it was serious enough to cancel."
Garret leaned back in her chair. She still looked suspicious, but she eventually let the matter go. "Well, if you start coughing all over the table, I’m leaving."
"I’ll do my best to contain myself."
She gave me a faint smile. "You were acting strangely earlier, too."
I paused. "Was I?"
"When I tried to speak to you after we’d arranged to meet. You looked at me as though you had no idea what I was talking about."
There it was.
I kept my expression neutral, though I was beginning to understand what had happened. The original Felix must have returned to his post after I’d left the estate. Garret had approached him to follow up on the arrangement I’d made while wearing his face, only for him to look at her as though she’d lost her mind.
That explained the confusion.
I hadn’t accounted for the possibility that the real Felix would return before the day was over. It was a small oversight, but one that could have caused considerably more trouble.
"I was caught off guard," I said.
"By what?"
"By you bringing it up so suddenly."
She frowned. "We had already agreed."
"I know. I just wasn’t expecting you to mention it when you did."
"That’s a rather strange excuse."
"Fair enough." I gave a slight shrug. "I’m sorry. I can be a little awkward about these things. I’m not particularly used to mixing business with pleasure."
Garret’s expression changed. The suspicion didn’t disappear entirely, but her attention shifted towards the latter part of my explanation.
"So you had second thoughts?"
"No." I answered quickly enough to make the point. "I was just nervous, I suppose. It isn’t something I do often."
She watched me for another moment before a small smile appeared. "You don’t strike me as someone who gets nervous."
"Then I’ve done a better job of hiding it than I thought."
That earned a quiet laugh.
I let the conversation settle for a moment before removing the attention from myself. The last thing I wanted was for her to keep examining the scarf or questioning my behaviour. Fortunately, I had something more practical to discuss.
"How did things go with the deliveries after I left?"
Garret sighed. "About as well as they usually do. One supplier sent half the order, another sent the wrong items, and I spent most of the afternoon trying to work out which delivery belonged to which account."
"That sounds familiar."
"Because it happens every week."
"Then perhaps the problem isn’t the suppliers."
She looked at me. "What do you mean?"
"From what I saw today, the records are doing you no favours. You have the orders, the deliveries, and the payments all written down, but they’re mixed together. If something arrives late or an item is missing, you have to go through everything to work out where the mistake happened."
Garret folded her arms on the table. "And what would you suggest?"
"Separate the records. Keep one list for what was ordered and another for what actually arrived. Then divide the suppliers into their own sections. That way, if a delivery is short, you can check the original order without sorting through every other account."
She considered it. "That sounds simple enough."
"It should be. There’s no point making a system so complicated that nobody wants to use it."
"Tell that to the steward."
I chuckled. "I take it he’s fond of complicated paperwork?"
"He’s fond of paperwork in general. The more there is, the happier he seems."
"Then I suspect we’ll have to find a way to disappoint him."
Garret laughed again, more openly this time. It was a useful reaction. I didn’t need her to think I was particularly clever, only that speaking to me made her day a little easier.
She leaned forward. "You really think that would help?"
"I do. It wouldn’t take much to put together a proper ledger. A few columns, separate supplier records, and a place to note missing or damaged goods. You’d be able to see what was ordered, what arrived, and what still needed to be settled."
"That would save me hours."
"Then it sounds worth trying."
Garret looked down at the table, thinking it over. "I might be able to convince the steward to let me change the records. He complains about the current system almost as much as I do."
"Perhaps you should let him complain about something useful for a change."
She smiled. "You make it sound easy."
"It isn’t always. But sometimes people make simple things difficult because they’re used to doing them the same way."
She gave me a thoughtful look. "You seem to know a fair bit about this."
"I’ve had to deal with enough disorganised people to recognise the signs."
"Is that so?"
"Unfortunately."
I didn’t elaborate. There was no need to invent a lengthy history when a simple answer would do.
The conversation moved away from the estate after that. Garret told me a little about the people she worked with, the suppliers who were reliable, and the ones who seemed to make a habit of delivering whatever they pleased. Nothing particularly important, but it gave me a better picture of how the household operated. I listened, asked the occasional question, and made sure not to press her on anything she had no reason to know.
She wasn’t a member of the family, nor was she involved in their private affairs. She handled household matters. That was precisely why I was interested in speaking with her. People often overlooked the information gathered by those who kept an estate running, even though they were the ones who saw its daily movements.
There was no reason to expect Garret to know anything about the Thorn Collective or the Vellmore family’s political dealings. But she might notice unusual deliveries, changes in household routines, or unfamiliar people coming and going. Small details could become useful when enough of them were put together.
Eventually, she glanced towards the window.
"I should probably be getting back."
"Of course."
She stood, then hesitated. "You really should do something about that cold."
"I’ll survive."
"That’s what everyone says until they end up in bed for a week."
"I’ll try not to disappoint you."
She rolled her eyes, though she was smiling. "And don’t forget what you said about the ledger. I’d like to see what you come up with."
"I’ll put something together."
"Good. Then perhaps you can show me tomorrow."
I nodded. "If I’m feeling better."
"Don’t use that as an excuse to avoid it."
"I wouldn’t dream of it."
She gave me one last look, then turned and left.
I remained at the table for a few minutes after she was gone, finishing my drink before standing. The meeting had gone well enough. I’d managed to explain away the awkwardness, given her a reason to look forward to speaking with me again, and found a way to make myself useful without drawing unnecessary attention.
More importantly, I’d gained a potential source of information inside House Vellmore.
It wasn’t much, but I hadn’t expected to uncover the family’s secrets over a drink with a housekeeper.
I stepped outside and adjusted the scarf around my face. Tomorrow, I could return to the estate with Felix’s appearance again, provided I was careful with my time. For now, I had other things to consider.
The Vellmore estate was hiding something. I was certain of that much.
And I intended to find out what.