Amends

[Dulcie]

It was midday while the women of the teahouse were still working about their daunting task of trying to reassemble their home and workplace when the first merchant arrived at their door. There was no explanation from where the delivery had come from nor who had sent it, but a cart was unloaded carefully bringing in crates of delicate little teacups. There was no pattern that matched all the way through each set, instead it was a hodge podge of whatever the merchant had available in the market that day, but there were many crates, enough so that business as usual could resume. At least so far as the tea pouring would go anyhow.

This would be the first of such arrivals, and more would come every few days or so. A delivery of wood for the floors, of furniture or linens, all sent just one bit at a time, each delivered in exactly the same way. No note, no explanation.

[Cinnabar]

It takes some hammering before anyone can be found to accept that delivery; some hammering and asking around, as the tea room itself is dark and silent, broken windows boarded and door firmly locked. Eventually one of the girls leans from an upstairs window, scowling as if roused from sleep.

The Tea House, she informs the merchants, is closed. As in, shut. No, for good. Ain't fixing it up, no. Madame Cambree ain't running it any more, and from the girl's tone it's clear that this is not the first time she's had people knocking on the door to ask about it.

Yeah, shut it down. Why? Because she'd had enough of trying to run her tea house with gossips and busybodies fussing over what's none of their concern, that's why. That and dirty great monsters charging in, wrecking the place and tearing people up. Who'd want to try and do business under those sorts of conditions?

Don't care what the merchant's're meant to do with all those crates, ain't none of the girl's concern. Write a letter to the bloody Governor for all she cares. She's out of a job, and waiting to see if she's going to have some place to live or if the landlord's going to kick her and the other girls out - in which case she doesn't know where they'll end up.

And with that the window is firmly closed, leaving the merchants to find their own solution.

[Dulcie]

It was no skin off the noses of the merchants however. They had been paid and paid well for the goods that they were to bring to the teahouse, but with no delivery to be made they had done everything that had been asked of them. There was no reason to tell the person who had purchased their wares, after all delivery was conditional upon the fact that the person receiving the goods actually -wanted- them. There would be no trouble there, only mumbled apologies for waking the fine young lady and then off they'd go packing up their things to take back to the market. All in all it hadn't been a bad day for the merchants. They'd been paid and still had wares to sell again. It was really quite a windfall.

[channe]

"Hey," screeches a young lady coming up the road just as the merchants are leaving. Gingham on her body and gold on her ears; a peasant's shoes, but decent lace at her cuffs. "Hey, don't run off with that shit, if Madam Calomel don't want it, I do!"

And with that, Petronela Kaczmarek proffers a nice little bag, presumably full of coin. "I've been saving up. I can buy at least some of that. Rent out the place for a month 'til I get my bearings straight." She pauses. "*I* am going to run the teahouse."

[Dulcie]

The merchant paused in his step as the voice called to him. He'd turn then giving the girl a dubious look as she came chasing him down and claiming to be the next madam of the tea house. The bag of coins was eyes and the heavy cart of tea cups and platters and he'd make a decision then, shrugging his shoulders and nodding. "Let me see what you've got there then." he would say, reaching to take the bag of coins. Even if the offering was meager if the coin was real the merchant would readily start unloading the crates for petronela there in the street. "Place is cursed you know, but best of luck to you lass."