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Chapter Eleven
Ariadne found herself unable to sleep at night. The first cryptic letter that had arrived at her door last week hadn’t been alone and was soon followed by ones that were increasingly alarming in nature. She wasn’t one to be scared so easily but her stomach knotted in worry and for most of the time it was all she could think about. Leda and Emma were of the same opinion.
“Who would want to hurt us?” Leda asked one morning. They had three such letters piled on the table in front of them. The letters were very vague but carried the same message. It wanted them out of this flat and for Ariadne to sell her father’s studio.
Ariadne read through the contents of the letter again as if it would shed some light on it but it merely stated—Sell everything you possess including the deceased Davy’s studio and remove yourself from your home immediately. If my words are not taken with caution, you will regret it immensely in the coming times.
“Do you think it might be Mrs. Tula?” Emma suggested. The thought had occurred to Ariadne, yes.
“I don’t believe she has fallen to such nefarious intention just yet,” Ariadne said but even her own words couldn’t comfort her.
“I think Emma is right,” Leda spoke up. “She has already openly threatened to throw us out of our home and now that we’ve paid her rent, she’s trying some other means to do so.”
“But what qualms does she hold against us?” Ariadne said. She had seen that Edward’s father had left them coins aplenty, and her rent was secure for the upcoming months.
“She doesn’t trust us,” Leda said. “She thinks us poor. She thinks she’ll have more advantageous tenants once we leave.” Leda might be onto something. They had gotten lucky with this flat in the apartment and the rent they had to pay was quite nominal as was already arranged by Mrs. Tula’s deceased husband with their father.
“If we can afford to pay her more money, that ought to shut her up,” Ariadne said.
She had been working for the past week to collect the documents she would need to go to the offices to apply for the patent. As far as she had found out she would have to go down to seven offices in total, spread over in different directions of London. She had already made up her mind to go down to the registrar’s office.
In fact, she had worn her best dress just for that. It was a simple robin’s egg-blue gown that she had inherited from one of her richer cousins back when their grandmother was still alive and they had maintained particular relations with her. Even the stern rules in place wouldn’t deter Ariadne in her persuasion.
“I really hope you succeed, Ariadne,” Leda said. “Our future depends upon it.”
Ariadne nodded and her throat grew heavy. She knew that she was responsible for the fate of this household but it was an enormous burden. Sometimes she wished that she had someone to share these troubles with but that was only wishful thinking. Edward had come in like the literal gust of a sweet wind on a summer night and brought hope and something else with him but that hadn’t lasted, like all good things in her life.
Ariadne hugged her sister who patted her on the back and then she turned to Emma who gave her a sad smile. “Dear child, oh I wish you wouldn’t have to see it all through at your age.”
“It doesn’t matter, Emma,” Ariadne said, hugging the older woman. “You and Leda bring me my strength. I’d rather be here than anywhere else.”
Emma handed her the purse of coins. “Here, you will need everything in it. And hopefully, bring twice of it home when you succeed.”
“Did you keep some of it to yourself?” Ariadne asked.
Emma nodded. “I’ll make certain that the larder doesn’t remain empty. Good luck, Ariadne.”
Ariadne waved to Emma and Leda and then walked out of the house, calm confidence in her steps. She had her documents placed inside the leather folder that her father used for his official purposes. She opened the studio, only for a little while, and wrapped the lamp in a cloth. And then she set out in search of a hack.
Ariadne didn’t come to the high streets of London that often and she couldn’t pretend she liked it. Rich people walked around preening like peacocks, strutting arrogantly to show off all the excess they had while the poor had misery and the signs of hard life written on the tanned, hard lines of their faces.
The hack dropped her off some way away from the registrar’s office and she walked the rest of the way there, her worn soles clacking against the cobble-stoned streets. The high streets were full of fashionable clothing stores, jewelry stores, candy stores and so much more. The streets bustled with people. Ariadne walked past all of that to reach the red-bricked building of the Registrar.
She exhaled a deep breath at the threshold. This was it. As soon as she entered, the smell of old paper and ink assaulted her. Desks were set up in every corner with employees working about them. She blinked at all the chaos.
She walked to the closest man and cleared her throat. At least he didn’t have people fighting over his attention in front. Even though Ariadne was the only person standing in front of him, it still took him a good few moments for him to look up and notice her.
“Yes?” he asked her. Ariadne cleared her throat, uncertain on how to approach the situation best. This wasn’t her world and she was better at fixing things. She had not exactly thought about what came after she was done with her inventions.
When Ariadne didn’t speak, the man said, “Are you here to register the birth of your child?”
“No!” Ariadne said with a faint blush. She wasn’t married nor had she ever been with a man.
“All right, then is it about your marriage?” he asked again, his voice flat.
“Not at all,” Ariadne said with a huff and before the man could ask more ridiculous questions again, she said, “I want to register a patent for an invention that I’ve designed, under my father’s legacy.”
The man looked at her up and down through his half-moon spectacles. “Surely you jest with me, Miss.”
