Cornelia was desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood from Anne's chest when a red-haired Technocrat-Lady Callaghan, Cornelia recalled, dimly remembering that Lady Enright had mentioned her before the ball-approached her, bringing a doctor along with her. "Excuse me miss...I don't know if your friend is still...but I have brought assistance. She will be in the best of hands," she said. It took Cornelia a moment to realize that Lady Callaghan was speaking directly to her; most Technocrats would not even deign to glance at somebody like Cornelia, let alone address her by anything other than "girl" or "wench". Cornelia was even more surprised when Lady Callaghan gently moved her hands aside and was stunned for a second before stiffening instinctively and then relaxing again. Casting her eyes around the room, Cornelia could see medical personnel streaming into the ruins of the Lightfeathers' ballroom. She assumed that it was Lady Callaghan who summoned them somehow. Usually, Cornelia would not have missed such a big thing, but she had been too occupied with Anne to notice.

"Miss...I don't know who's done this, but I am going to need help to find out...Might I employ your services miss?" Lady Callaghan questioned quietly. Cornelia found herself taken aback for the third time. She eyed Lady Callaghan warily, wondering what the hell the Technocrat would want to do with a prole like her. Cornelia could only assume that Lady Callaghan wanted some sort of spy or "observer", but of course, Cornelia didn't work for free. 

There was the sound of a loud explosion, and Cornelia waited for the reverberations to dissipate before opening her mouth to speak. Lady Callaghan was watching her expectantly. Cornelia looked in Anne's direction, and seeing that there were indeed doctors tending to her friend, she began.

"Ma'am, if you would have me serve as your parlor maid or serving girl, I am afraid that I am already employed," Cornelia said carefully, gauging the Technocrat's reaction. Cornelia lowered her voice as she continued. "But if you would have me watch and listen, with all due respect ma'am, I would be more than happy to oblige...for the right price." Cornelia was never one to tiptoe cautiously around subjects that were more controversial, especially not in a dire situation like this. 

For the first time, Cornelia felt as if she had some sort of upper hand. If Lady Callaghan refused, well, Cornelia was still working for Lady Enright. And if she agreed to pay her? Cornelia would be able to send more money than ever before back to her family. She felt a sudden twinge of homesickness. What would her mother say if she knew what Cornelia truly did for her employers, other than dusting the candlesticks and scrubbing their floors? Cornelia impatiently pushed the thought out of her mind-it would do her no good to grow overly agitated in a moment like this. 

However, thinking of home made Cornelia think of the other people she knew. It was true that she had few friends amongst other proles, but the few friends that she did have were very connected. Cornelia's lip twitched slightly as she thought of Sebastian Shoreditch, a middle-aged butler who currently worked for a wealthy Meritocrat family. He was born with a photogenic memory, an extraordinarily rare trait. Sebastian was a wily and shrewd, and kept his unusual talent a secret from most everyone, including his employers. He learned to read when he was in his 20's, and since then, he had been snooping on his employers. Cornelia always went to him whenever she needed to find something obscure like a valuable antique; if anyone knew about it, it would be Sebastian. Besides, he didn't ask for anything but a flask of cider, and he was good company. Cornelia fondly recalled his salt-and-pepper hair and cocky grin, his outrageous imitations of his employers, and his many sardonic wisecracks. Maybe Sebastian would know something about the vigilante-it would definitely be worth a try.

Wilhelmina Sullivan was about Cornelia's age. The two of them had suffered through countless beatings and scoldings together when Cornelia was fourteen; they were as thick as thieves. When Cornelia was fired from her first job, Wilhelmina was devastated, but through a long chain of underground communication and passing messages to people who might know someone that knew the other girl, they were able to stay in touch. The last Cornelia had heard, Wilhelmina had become a prostitute at a fairly established brothel. Cornelia could see why she would be hired; Wilhelmina was as delicate as a doll and ten times more beautiful than one too, with her rosebud lips and dainty figure and thick black ringlets. Wilhelmina would have definitely been in contact with wealthy Technocrats. It would be worth a try attempting to speak to her as well.

Finally, there was Charlotte Elliot, or Lottie, as Cornelia called her. Almost seventy years old, half-blind, and hunchbacked, most people thought of her as a helpless old lady. Cornelia had thought so too, at first, but it was Charlotte who got Genevieve Clarkson to employ Cornelia as an informant. From what Cornelia knew, Charlotte had stayed with the Clarksons after Genevieve's death despite the fact that Charlotte was Genevieve's nursemaid and very close to the woman. Gabriel Clarkson had obviously been swayed by his parents to let her be. Getting in touch with Charlotte would be tricky because she rarely ever left the Clarkson estate, but not impossible. Cornelia would figure something out.

Cornelia let a small, cordial half-smile slip onto her face as she awaited Lady Callaghan's reply. Maybe she would even be able to find out more about the masked murderer for Lady Enright during their exchange.