Emilia didn't have high hopes for the book; all she wanted was to earn something to mail to her mother uphill.
Weeks later, and Emilia had completely forgotten about the project. Thrown into a fit of duties in preparation for the Duke's impromptu arrival. It was Emilia's turn to go to the market with the Evil witch.
Cordelia and Judith would usually make it a point that she never left the palace grounds by any means necessary. They learned the food poisoning method from them after all.
Emilia didn't think too much of it; she never had a reason to go to town personally anyway. But this time it was different. She needed to hand over the contract herself.
At the last stop, the evil witch instructed her to wait outside while she went into a dress shop.
A second later, a man grabbed and pulled her away from the busy street into a small, dark, dusty printing shop in the slum part of the market.
It didn't take too long to recognize him; well, the huge Duncan and Sons sign inside the shop was a dead giveaway.
"Mr. Duncan?" she asked.
"I was wondering when you would show up. What took you so long?" He asked her with an angry face.
"Pardon?" Emilia asked, eyeing him, searching for the perfect gentleman Sarah described.
"I had been waiting at the same spot every day this entire week, as the other girl said. Where is the contract?" He answered hastily.
"Oh, she could not make it." Emilia sighed, handing him the document she had tucked safely away in her chemise. "But how did you recognize me?" She asked.
He looked her up and down before answering. "She did a good job at describing you. Besides, you look like what you wrote about, little girl uphill?" He smiled.
Emilia's ears turned pink. "Well, is it ready?" She asked him, patting down her cheeks.
"Yes, as well as the first mass production to be shipped!" His voice became hard again as he seemed to remember his anger. "Your delay has put our schedule back a whole week."
"I sincerely apologize."
"Let's hope this novel does well in the market; the shop really needs this. We have invested all." He said.
"Why did you?" Emilia asked the burning question on her mind. "You met a girl in the middle of the street and invested all your money to publish a book her friend wrote?"
He walked away to behind the large dusty desk in the room. Shuffling through the drawers to find what Emilia presumed to be her first manuscript. "I studied literature and poetry in France; I graduated seven years ago." He paused, pulling out the small brown book. "And that was the last time I read such excellent penmanship as yours." He added, handing her the book slowly.
Emilia gulped as her hands graced the fine leather of the binding. "You are being too kind." She said hoarsely, still unable to comprehend her luck.
"You are incredibly talented." He said. "Where did you study?"
Emilia looked at him and shook her head. "My mother taught me to read, and all I did was read."
When she turned five, her mother had begun introducing her to newspapers. Teaching her to read and write, primarily for the purpose of entertaining her younger ones while her mother worked.
Mr. Duncan was about to speak when the evil witch burst into the shop, cursing as she came and dragged her out. Emilia was fast enough to hide the book and give a thumbs up to Mr. Duncan being pulled away.
After dinner, she and Sarah had a special celebration by the lake that night as Emilia read from the book. It was no longer her scrawly handwriting with errors; it was now a typed book, formatted and edited. Mr. Duncan stayed very true to her draft; she had been worried they would ruin the story.
Emilia was content with only ever having that copy; she didn't need anything more. So she was not prepared when, a few short days later, she walked in on Judith and her evil stepsisters fawning over a book. Her book.
Judith, in a loud voice, declared that it was the book of the summer; all the ladies were reading it. Noble and poor born. While she and Sarah were still arguing about whether or not it was true.
"I hear the author is one of the greatest aristocrats of all time!" Judith said, holding the book like a prize, while the other girls who couldn't read sat at her feet, like a queen and her ladies-in-waiting.
"If she wasn't so evil, Judith herself would make a great story writer; her imagination is creative." Emilia said quietly as they passed the group of gossiping girls.
"I heard she never learned to write, so that might also be a problem." Sarah laughed.
True to Judith's words, her blue-backed novel was all over town. Mr. Duncan couldn't stop singing her praises; the publishing shop in a few days had received a breathtaking upgrade. That was all Emilia had to see to know how well the book was received.
"Oh, and by the second and third issues of the book, just think of how much money that will be...."
"Wait, second and third?!" She asked. "You never mentioned I had to keep writing?"
"Well, why stop at only one when there is so much more money to be made?" He asked, laughing. Emilia frowned.
"It is dangerous enough to have done this once, and you're asking for a second and third?"
"The contract you signed says you have to do everything the publisher, which is me, wants till after eight months."
Emilia's mouth fell. She knew it was too good to be true. He had conned her into signing a bad contract.
"You vile!" She spat. "I knew there would be something to it. You hid your intentions so well."
"There is no need for name-calling; I am only looking out for both our interests here. Just keep writing for eight months, and then you will be free to leave." He smirked.
"Or else?"
"There is nothing much actually, but we get to report to the Duke's palace about our little arrangement and sneaking out, and then you face punishment, while we retain the author name 'Whispering Maid' to make more books and retain the profit."
Emilia's frown lines grew deeper as she stared at the now stupid face of Mr. Duncan. She needed to take back control in any way that she could from him and save herself. It would be nearly impossible to keep writing with so much work around the palace and then sneak out to him.
"Fine, but we do this on my requirements!" She answered. His eyes grew as he smiled and tipped his head.
"I write on my own, when I deem fit, with no deadlines. Instead of a full book, we make a series and release chapters bimonthly. This will do one thing: keep people coming and will remove the stress of finishing a whole book. I have other work to do." She eyed him. He stroked his chin for a second before nodding in agreement.
"And we increase the percent cut. If I have to be writing so much more, I need more money. I will have to pay people off to keep coming here. I want 40% more." She declared.
"15%." He countered.
"30%, final." She argued. Another pause, and he nodded again. Emilia smiled.
"Send all of my money to this address only on Sundays." She wrote down the address of the farm, knowing that without fail, her mother would be the one collecting the mail.
"When do I expect the next issue?"
"In two weeks." She answered after a thought.
"One week and five days, or no deal." He shook his head. Emilia chewed on her lip and sighed, holding out her hand for a shake.
"It was nice doing business with you." He said, kissing the back of her hand. She let him, only to clean her hand on her skirt after.
"Likewise." She answered, pulling the hood over her head, and left the shop. The weight of the coin purse under her garment pulled her skirt down as she walked quickly, whispering a silent prayer that Madam Phineas had not noticed her disappearance.