The door to the townhouse is opened before Amelia Mackenzie. The servants in the atrium clamour an eager chorus of welcomes.
“Welcome home, Ms Mackenzie.”
One hurries to take her sodden cloak, another her mud caked boots. Already there is a fire blazing for her enjoyment.
One servant discreetly hands her a letter. “The mayor has sent a message: they would like to give a speech with you and a few reliable people from the town - show how much the city is doing for them.”
Precisely as much as is politically convenient, of course. But who is Amelia to complain if this particular rising tide lifts one boat a little higher than the others. Someone needs to look out for the Mackezie family’s fortunes. It is of course lovely that her relatives have been so generous with the people of Little Avoning, but the unfortunate reality is that generosity has a price and it seems only Amelia is working to provide for its payment.
She extracts herself from the fawning servants and makes her way upstairs. The house is warm. Between the frigid echoes wandering the streets of Little Avoning and the long, miserable journey here it has been so very long since Amelia Mackenzie has felt warm.
The moment of peace is short lived as sudden dread rushes through her. The servants have clearly been in her room. She locks the door and dims the lantern as she makes her way to the secret place she has hidden her family’s life raft.
The wood panel slides out easily. It's all there. The coin, the mayoral seals, the painting, the military emblem, the banner and the watercolor of the town. All the things she stole from The Archives. It will be some time until she can contact Prudence to fence them. She feels a small glow of pride: apparently she wasn’t the only one selling echoes to Prudence in Little Avoning, but she was the only one with the vision and the position to use The Archives. That was always where the real money was but no-one else seems to have seen it.
She slides the panel back in place. She’ll have to watch the servants closely until she moves the items. All things considered the flood has worked out rather well. A tragedy, of course, but for Amelia Mackenzie it has brought wealth, contacts and opportunity the likes of which Little Avoning could never have given her.
Yes, all in all things are looking up for Amelia Mackenzie.
Her mind turns briefly to the warmth of that airy summer’s day, always just out of reach. No matter. Beneath heavy furs and behind thick walls she will never be cold again.