As summer progressed, the polite chats between the Patron’s Daughter and I grew more personal.
Within a few weeks, I became her confidante.
The intimacy did not increase my sympathy or respect for the Patron’s Daughter. If anything, she became even more contemptible to me the more I got to know her.
She spoke of the Noble Son’s desertion almost every day.
She never referred to his going home as a rejection. All she thought of was the embarrassment and the loss of pride.
In the eyes of others, the Patron’s Daughter had always been unattainable. That was a state that she craved to the point of ravenous. So for a girl like her to be on the receiving end of a young man who was unattainable to her was unspeakably humiliating.
She did not handle the switch with much grace.
When the Patron’s Daughter spoke of the Noble Son, she never expressed longing or heartache.
She never asked about the reason why the Noble Son would leave without a proposal or an invitation to come visit the Southeast, as was the customary etiquette amongst highborn families.
It was clear that the Noble Son and his parents had no desire to pursue a connection with them.
I would be lying if I denied to you the pleasure I took hearing all this.
Getting to know the Patron’s Daughter had a bizarre effect.
Although I certainly didn’t like her any more, I was finally able to stop hating her. Not only was she as spoiled as she had always seemed, her conceit rendered her pitiful.
It was very freeing, really.
Although the deceit of this friendship made me feel foul, there were many gifts I received from it. Besides the peace of mind that comes when hatred dies, I learned much about the danger of vanity.
Over the years, especially in the Life, this wisdom was absolutely priceless. I’ve received much in the way of lavish praise as a Courtesan, especially in the early years when I was new to the Life.
Of course, I enjoyed the extravagant compliments. Who wouldn’t? But I saw them more as an amusement. I never digested them into who I thought I was.
This is a pitfall many courtesans fall into. I watched many a beautiful and luscious woman render herself absurd from taking flattery far too seriously.
Many a promising career ended prematurely this way.
On a practical note, the vanity of the Patron’s Daughter also made it easy for me to betray her. Her arrogance was awfully tedious.
I was often provoked.
More than once, I nearly bit my tongue off restraining the urge to suggest the Noble Son might prefer a happy marriage to an advantageous one as she whined about his desertion time after time.
But I didn’t dare.
One moment of honesty and the Patron’s Daughter would be lost, and I would be doomed.
Every few days, the Sorcerer would appear out of nowhere.
He never asked questions about how things were progressing with the Patron’s Daughter. Instead, he suggested ways to increase her trust.
One time, after a particularly vexing walk and talk, I confided to him that I had been right to despise the Patron’s Daughter all my life. I complained that my tongue was wounded from my self-restraint over the little snit.
By then, her tears were dried up.
The anger of wounded pride had set in.
For the first few weeks, the Patron’s Daughter held out hope for an invitation once the Noble Son and his family were settled at home. Within that time, our patrons received eloquent letters of thanks for the gracious hospitality extended to them.
But, as was the custom when a friendship is desired between two families of influence, the Noble family from the Southeast made no invitation to visit in return.
Courteous and elegant in the execution of the potential connection, it was clear that a friendship was not wished for on their end as they wished our patrons and their beautiful daughter health and happiness in the future.
The reason I heard these details was because the Patron’s Daughter brought the letter with her and read it aloud to me, sprays of spittle coming between her enraged lips.
I didn’t hear one word in ten of the venom she spewed afterwards about the Noble Son who had not wanted to marry her.
How could I? My heart was soaring.
That afternoon, I was quite distracted.
But I digress.
Back to the Sorcerer and his scheming.
“I don’t care of your tongue becomes thick with callouses,” the Sorcerer snapped. “You will continue to bite it for the sake of being all that is agreeable and comforting. You are to express nothing but gratitude to be in her presence and in her confidence.”
Bile rose to my throat and I opened my mouth to protest.
But the Sorcerer held up his hand.
“That is what she expects from you, Addie. In her mind, you have no right to treat her with disdain. You do that that even once and you will never get another chance.”
