Making my way in the world Delphine smoothed her skirt nervously. She was an adult. She was an adult, and was entitled to go wherever she pleased, so long as it was in the bounds of propriety. It was just that last part that was so tricky… ‘Propriety’ was not a solidly black and white notion. Still, Effie worked. And father always complained about how much she cost to keep. He should be pleased that she had secured this opportunity. She kept telling herself this, as she stepped into the fireplace, whispering the name of the publishing house softly.
She stepped out, feeling like she was in an odd amalgam of someone’s home and an office. It was a very feminine space, with pleasantly upholstered cushions on the seats, nice prints on the walls and so on, but intermingled with this were desks on which documents were stacked, and women busily worked, quill in hand. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised… It was a women’s magazine, for society ladies. Articles on how to charm, how to decorate a cake, transfigure the best centrepiece, etc. And she had an appointment with the editor, regarding some translations.
“Your letter was so well timed,” the editor smiled, pouring her tea. “We’re planning to launch a French edition, but our representative in Quebec isn’t replying to our owls at all. French temperament I suppose - they’re unreliable. A lot of content is local flavour, and being supplied by writers there, but we still need the three leading articles to be translated. What’s your usual fee?”
“What are you offering?” she returned. It might have worked had she not hesitated fractionally too long before coming up with that counter, or had it not clearly shown on her face that she was utterly unprepared for the question.
Smiling, the editor named a price a good twenty-five percent below what she had budgeted for the job. Naively, Delphine accepted.