Sitting beside Lazarus as he slept that night, I finally had an idea that could work. Glancing at him as he snored softly, I rose carefully, making sure my presence remained imperceptible as I left the two room house.
His brother, Michael, worked at building all manner of things. I'd seen him on days that Lazarus had been left with him, crafting everything from rudimentary instruments to wagons to furniture. He was fairly talented, and I thought that maybe, with a push in the right direction and given the means, he might be able to help Lazarus achieve his goal without spending too much money.
It wasn't too hard to steal the blueprint of a simple pianoforte. I placed it on the top of Michael's other rough plans, making sure he'd notice it the next day. Though it was a little harder to find him some materials to get started, it wasn't impossible to provide them for him. As long as I made it look as though someone had ordered this to be made, I was convinced my plan would work.
Sure enough, that morning, Michael made his way to the workshop and found the things I'd left for him. He enquired briefly with his boss - "didn't know someone wanted me to make a fuckin' pianoforte for 'em? Who ordered that?" - and received only a shrug and a bemused look. He tried to find any mention of it in the ledger, before deciding it'd been dropped off in the wrong place. I let him work until late in the afternoon without another thought to it.
"You know," I murmured in his ear as he sat and tore at a chunk of bread, "your little brother wants a pianoforte of his own. You saw how desperately he wanted it yesterday." He stopped chewing as a thoughtful look flickered across his face. "That plan doesn't belong to anyone, nor do the materials. Why not use them to build one for him yourself? It's not like your family will ever be able to buy one." Moments passed as he mulled it over in his mind.
"Hey, boss," he called eventually, standing up. The older man looked over at him. "That pianoforte stuff in there... reckon I could use it, since it don't belong to no one? Way I see it, if they dropped it off at the wrong shop it's their own fault, right?" The older man nodded in agreement.
"Guess I don't see why not. If it turns up in the books, though, you'll have to give it all back."
"Yes, sir," Michael grinned.