The Duchess Hoax (World of Jordinia)

Chapter 1: Elsi

"'SCUSE ME, MISS. HOW MUCH for this?"

Elsi looked up at the portly man holding a bag of sugar.

"Oh, er, I'm not sure," she answered him. "You'll have to ask the clerk."

The customer frowned. "Don't you work here?"

"Yes, but I'm just a—"

"Well then, you oughtter know the prices of the goods yer sellin'!"

Elsi stood tall alongside her broomstick as he advanced, invariably stepping in the pile of dust and crumbs she'd just swept up.

"I only stock and clean, sir." She stood her ground. "I don't set the prices. For that, you'll have to ask Mr. Davidson." She tilted her head toward the counter, where the bespectacled store manager stood chatting with one of his more affluent customers, the widowed but attractive Mrs. Fairchild.

The belligerent shopper seemed to have no intention of leaving Elsi alone. She inhaled through her mouth, trying not to smell his sour breath. "Come, give me your best guess. Three shillings? Two?"

Elsi pursed her lips. Now she was onto him.

She knew exactly what he was trying to do, and she wouldn't fall for it. Not again. She'd learnt her lesson last time a customer had tricked her into guessing the wrong price. The conniving old maid had used Elsi's misinformed quote to haggle with the manager and demand a discount. When Mr. Davidson had refused, the old maid had shrieked for whole store to hear that "the shop girl" had promised her such a bargain.

Davidson forbade Elsi from speaking to the customers since then. The whole ordeal had almost cost Elsi her job. And that was only the day before yesterday.

It was the latest in a procession of mishaps and honest accidents that Elsi would sooner forget, including breaking the new scale (she hadn't realized it was only for goods and not people), and the crate of preserves she'd dropped on the stair. All but one of the glass jars had completely shattered, and the crates were ruined.

She was lucky to still be employed there, even if she wasn't particularly suited for the vocation. She couldn't afford to lose another job, and so resolved she wouldn't do anything stupid. Not today, at least.

"Sorry," she contended in spite of the customer's darkening scowl, "but I really couldn't tell you, sir."

The man harrumphed and finally stalked away. Elsi sighed, sweeping up his dusty tracks behind him.

A small mewl pricked her ear. Elsi slowed the broom to listen. All she heard was Mrs. Fairchild's polite titters as Davidson's smiling face grew redder and redder behind the counter.

She resumed her work, sweeping up the rest of the narrow aisle between shelves, when she heard it again.

Mew.

Elsi turned. A scrawny white cat stared up at her. She could make out every ridge in its ribcage. That, along with a patch of missing hair by its left ear, told her the creature had no owner. If it did, it'd been sorely neglected.

Elsi knelt slowly with her dustpan. The cat, now eye level, mewed at her again. Elsi extended a hand. "It's all right," she whispered. "I won't hurt you."

The cat did not accept the invitation to be pet, but swayed its tail expectantly. Elsi lowered her hand. "You must be famished. Why, look at you, all flesh and bone."

As if on cue, Elsi's own stomach rumbled. Looked like the cat wasn't the only one who was hungry. But Elsi was used to the feeling. Although she worked at a grocery, she paid the same prices as everyone else. Often her purchases came directly out of her pay, so most weeks she was working just to eat.