Whiskers and Lace

Dearest Amelia,

You must believe me when I say it was not my fault that I dumped the Conte Brasso into the canals!

Oh, why do these things always happen to me? It’s never my fault and yet it’s always my fault!

Just thinking of it fair sets my fur on end! Even now, I can feel my tail puff up like a kitten on Hallow’s Eve.

I’m sure by now the news has reached the papers. I’m likely a topic of whispered conversation and speculation across the entire country. Papa was furious, as I’m sure you can imagine. Our first day in Tanice, and already I’ve managed to offend a prospective husband.

As if I were not already fully aware of the gravity of my situation! I shall get only a single Season – just one – to land a suitably wealthy husband to please Papa. Such a scolding! He did not let up until after we’d arrived at the hotel.

You shall believe me, won’t you? It truly was the Conte’s fault. The carriage had dropped us off – Papa and I – and we waited for a gondola.

Oh, you must come and see Tanice, someday. I am certain you would instantly be smitten by the city! I could never have imagined a city built entirely upon islands, but it fairly bristles with clockwork machinery. I had only to turn my head to see some new marvel of scientific ingenuity. It would make your claws itch to see it. I shall have to devise a way to send a few small samples your way.

Ah, but I was telling you of my altercation with the Conte. As I said, we waited for a gondola, which took a dreadfully long time. My parasol was packed and the sun beat down upon us with such wickedness that I retreated to a nearby canopy for shade. Papa was busy shouting at the slim boats in the canals below us, so I pulled a book from my purse while he could not see to scold me for it.

I know you are not one for the romances, but ah! This book! It fair curled my whiskers, I don’t mind telling you. It seemed only a moment before I was rudely yanked from a particularly steamy scene by a shockingly rude paw upon my person.

I looked up to see a tom with short, shadow-grey fur bent over me, a terrible look upon his face. I screamed and wished for help, and before I could stop it, I sneezed.

I swear, I could not help it. The magic tickles so, and I have tried to stop sneezing. Have you ever tried to hold in a sneeze? It’s a dreadful, horrid experience. I do believe I once heard holding in a sneeze could cause ones eyes to pop out! A morbid imagery, to be certain. I cannot know if it is true, but I do not wish to be the cat to put it to the test!

The sneeze, of course, released it. The pages of my book fluttered and tore, leaping from their binding and forming a startling beast. A tiger made entirely of paper leapt to my defense and snarled ferociously at the dark cat.

The tom’s eyes widened and he took a step away – directly over the edge of the brick and into the canal.

You see now, don’t you? If he had not surprised me, I should never have sneezed, and then would never have called up an origami beast to protect me.

Not that anyone cared. Immediately, voices called out, “Conte Brasso! Quick, someone rescue the Conte Brasso, he has been tossed into the canals!”

As if I could toss a Conte into a canal! Me! At finishing school, I could barely manage to jog in circles around the phys track. You know I couldn’t have achieved such a feat even had I a desire to do so!

The tiger dispersed immediately, of course. You and I both know it was harmless – an origami beast is no more dangerous than the paper from which it is made.

And so here I sit, alone in my hotel room. Papa is dreadfully cross with me, which is silly. Even now, only two hours after the dreadful event, we receive callers with invitations to various parties and galas. You can be certain at least half of them are in hopes that I shall provide amusement with further antics during the events, but an invitation is an invitation, regardless of intent. I shall find my schedule in Tanice quite full, which should give ample opportunity.

I cannot afford to make further mistakes. I shall henceforth determine to be a proper lady for my Season. I shall flirt and laugh and drink champagne and find myself a fat and wealthy husband. Preferably one too old for bedplay, with a full harem of wives already established. I would make a good trophy wife, I imagine. And you can be certain I shall be avoiding the shadow-furred Conte Brasso!

Romances are best left between the covers of books. Love and all its glittering trappings are not for the poor daughters of discarded gentry.

And the worst of It all, dear Amelia, is that my paper tiger tore from me the last pages of my book, and I shall perish an old cat, never knowing how the story ends!

Love and Fishes,
Cheska

PS. I pulled a card for you. It was the 2 of haddocks. I am not certain if it means you shall meet a dangerous person who will challenge your wits, or that it shall rain. Either way, do pack a sturdy parasol. I am certain you shall need it.