“I’d like to help, Francesca. But I’m really not sure the kind of information you could provide me would be enough of a help for me to spend the time at it. It depends, I guess, on what you want in return.”
Francesca smiled. “I think you’ll be surprised at how useful the information I’ll be providing you will be. After I’m situated in Casa Louise, of course. The information I could provide you right now wouldn’t be all that useful, I admit. Except . . .” She gave Kat a level gaze. “Even now, I could provide you with quite extensive information on the movements of the Schiopettieri. Several of their captains are regular customers of mine.”
For a moment, Kat’s face froze. Then, suddenly, the girl choked out a little laugh. “That’d be something! Ha!” She smiled. “All right. That’s enough for me to gamble a little. Whether it goes any further . . . we’ll see. You mentioned a few ‘items’ you could use. What are they?”
“A gown, perhaps more than one, a cloak, and accessories,” replied Francesca. “Something—impressive, but not showy. Not the sort of thing that I would be able to purchase for myself, as I am now.”
Kat nodded. “I think I know what you mean. Case Vecchie impressive. Would you object to something old, but newly remade?”
Francesca and Kat exchanged the conspiratorial smiles universal to every pair of Women Discussing Wardrobe. Something about this girl was striking a chord with her, and she could sense that Kat felt the same way. “You have anticipated exactly what I was going to ask for. As I explained, I am about to undertake a change in status, and for that . . .”
The two of them discussed gowns and undergowns, fabrics and colors for nearly half an hour. Kat, it seemed, knew both a seamstress and someone who was close in size to Francesca—and with the latest mode in laced gowns, a perfect fit was easy to attain provided the size was close.
When they were done, Kat hesitated, her face tightening a bit. Understanding the awkwardness, Francesca immediately said: “I’m quite willing to pay for these items, Kat. In cash.”
It was Francesca’s turn to hesitate. The kind of clothing she needed was extremely expensive; more than she could possibly afford to buy new. To make the right impression she had to obtain the finest quality silk clothing. That kind of silk cost between two and ten ducats an ell, and it would take roughly ten ells to make a single gown. Even used, she doubted she could find anything for less than twenty ducats—and that, in all likelihood, would be a hand-me-down for poor relations with all of the trimmings, beads, embroidery, and buttons removed. Which would be useless to her. Whatever else, Francesca could not afford to look like a “hand-me-down” of any kind. A courtesan had to seem, in every respect, as if she belonged to the elite herself and was not a street whore with delusions of grandeur. Few of her prospective patrons would really be fooled by the illusion, but the illusion was nevertheless essential—in order for them to maintain face.
And, there was this also . . . Now that Francesca had made this initial contact with Kat, she realized that maintaining the liaison could of great value to her in the future. Francesca was sure that Kat came from an upper-crust family—curti at the very least. An elite house which had fallen on hard times, but still retained its social glamour. That was the reason, obviously, Kat was so careful to remain incognito. In Venice’s complex and sometimes deadly social dance, losing face was as dangerous to such a family as losing money—more so, in many ways.
Which meant, in turn . . . Francesca managed not to wince openly. What it meant was that Kat’s surreptitious “gray labor” required significant financial returns, or it simply wasn’t worth the doing. There was no way the girl would agree to help unless Francesca was willing to part with—
This time, she was unable to completely prevent the wince from showing. Everything I’ve saved up—that’s what it’ll cost me.