Etiquette & Espionage (19 page)

W
hat happened next?” Dimity was positively riveted by Sophronia’s tale.

“Professor Lefoux gave the flywaymen a fake prototype. It looked like a shiny metal dodecahedron.” It was the following morning, and they ought to be getting ready for breakfast, but instead they were lying in their beds chatting.

“I started to worry when you weren’t back after the bells stopped sounding.” Dimity’s pretty face was somber with reprimand. “You could have
said
something to me about where you were going.”

“I didn’t want to get you into any kind of trouble. Bumbersnoot is my concern. Also, I hoped to return before anyone noticed. In the end, I had to wait while the teachers cleaned up after the battle. Did you know they brought sooties up top and had them climb inside the balloon to make repairs?” Sophronia
was pretty darn certain, from a gangly silhouette, that one of those sooties had been Soap. She did not say this to Dimity. For some reason she felt very private about and possessive of Soap. Also a little embarrassed. She suspected Dimity might scoff. Petunia had always been very mocking whenever Sophronia befriended the stable lads. Then she hadn’t minded so much. Now, after weeks of finishing school, she was beginning to concern herself with appearances.

“Regardless, I had to wait while everyone fussed over the balloon. I overheard the teachers talking.”

Dimity’s eyes widened appreciatively.

“Professor Lefoux said that the flywaymen would be back, because the prototype they passed over was a fake. She said it would fool them for a while, but that it was no guarantee of safety.” Sophronia rolled over and pulled her black velvet reticule out from under the bed. She extracted a few lumps of coal. Bumbersnoot was asleep at the foot of her bed, barely warm. He was conserving all of his energy, his tiny internal steam engine almost completely shut down. She put him on the floor.

Sophronia tapped him on the head with a chunk of coal and then placed it in front of his face. He made a low whirring noise, heated up slightly, and then began to eat. Shortly thereafter, steam emanated from his underbelly, and he got to his four tiny feet with a few squeaks and clunks.

Sophronia continued her story. “Professor Braithwope said something about takin V shdahoped tog refuge in the mist—going gray, he called it—to buy us extra time.”

Dimity looked thoughtful. “No mail drops for a while, then. Monique will be disappointed.”

“As indeed am I. I was going to write to Mumsy for more clothes. And we were going to drop your brother that glove.”

Dimity urged her on. “What happened next?”

“Sister Mattie asked about Bunson’s. Professor Lefoux said something about them doing their best.”

“I suppose that means Bunson’s is trying to build a replacement prototype,” Dimity suggested.

“Or a better-looking fake.”

“I suspect we’re heading in that direction, anyway,” said Dimity.

“Goodness, how can you tell? The moor always looks the same to me.”

“Well, the school will need proper repairs. I believe those are always conducted at Bunson’s.”

“Oh?” Sophronia was excited by this idea. She felt like they had been floating about aimlessly for an aeon.

“Well, the propeller is winding strong this morning.” The girls looked up to see Sidheag, arms crossed over her bony chest, wearing a long pink flannel nightgown and slouching against the doorjamb.
Pink!

“Is that what that vibration means?” Sophronia asked without missing a beat. She ought to have known someone would overhear their conversation. At least it was Sidheag, and not Monique.
Speaking of Monique, she’s going to try to send that letter as soon as we arrive at Bunson’s.

“Indeed.”

“How long have you been standing there?” Dimity wanted to know, drawing the covers up over her own red brocade nightgown.

“Long enough,” replied Lady Kingair, coming inside their room. She bent to pat Bumbersnoot, who was working busily on his second lump of coal.

“So you managed to scarper back here without being discovered?” she asked Sophronia.

“Yes.”

“Convinced of that, are ya?”

Sophronia felt a cold chill go up her spine.

“Yes, why?”

“Because Lady Linette is waiting for you in our sitting room, and she does not look pleased. She told me to tell you specifically, Sophronia, to dress and get yourself in there right sharp.”

“Oh, bother,” said Sophronia. “Dimity, will you keep an eye on Bumbersnoot for me?”

“Of course.”

“Bumbersnoot, stay here with Auntie Dimity, please.”

The mechanimal sat back on his haunches and sent a puff of smoke at her, tail wagging back and forth hopefully. Sophronia tossed Dimity another lump of coal, hoping to keep the dog’s attention in their room, and climbed out of bed. In the interest of appearing as innocent as possible, she donned her simplest dress—a blue muslin with white flowers—and Sidheag helped her do up the buttons. Over this Sophronia pulled a white pinafore. She elected simply to plait her hair, as it was fastest. With Lady Linette such things were always a bit dodgy—take time to be particularly presentable, or dress quickly? She popped a lace cap on her head and went reluctantly into their drawing room to see how much trouble she’d gotten herself into.

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“Miss Temminnick, good morning.”

“Good morning, my lady.” Sophronia bobbed a curtsy. She’d been working very hard with Dimity on the art of the curtsy—how to bend the knees without sticking out the bottom, a smooth dip and rise. Dimity had even shown her how to lower her eyes and glance up through her lashes.

Lady Linette, who looked rather irked, nevertheless noticed the improvement. “Much better, young lady. Not so much tilt to the head, not with a lady or a vampire. With another woman, it comes off as coy. With a vampire, it comes off as invitation. Otherwise a very commendable effort.”

Sophronia rose from her curtsy. “Thank you, my lady.”

“However, it does not make up for some very disturbing news I’ve recently had.”

“Yes, my lady?” Sophronia’s stomach fluttered ominously.

“I have been informed that you were seen
out
last night. You were spotted through one of the portholes climbing the exterior hull.”

Sophronia narrowed her eyes.
Someone’s ratted on me! That’s certainly not in the spirit of this school.
“One of the teachers, my lady?”

“Oh, very nice. No defensive tone, merely a query for further information. You are trying to take advantage of my annoyance in the hope that I will be indiscreet about the informant. You are learning well, Miss Temminnick, very well indeed.”

Sophronia widened her eyes hopefully, trying to look both nonthreatening and inquiring.

“Simply in honor of such a creditable effort, I will tell you that it was a student. And this is a concern. On the one hand, no one else saw you. On the other, you have made an enemy of
one of your fellows in such a way as to cost you a covert operation. You should pay very close attention in your blackmail lessons in order to forestall such behavior in the future. Then again, so should the student in question. She might have used this information to manipulate you, rather than coming directly to us. A questionable choice of application, but perhaps she thought the matter was time sensitive.”

“My lady?” Sophronia’s heart was in her throat.
Please don’t turn me out.

“Yes, of course. So, for being seen, you are hereby ordered to report to Cook. She will have you cleaning the pots and pans after supper in the mess for the next two weeks.”

Sophronia started to let out a breath of relief, but then Lady Linette continued. “For being told upon…” She paused, considering.

I’m being sent home when we get to Bunson’s. I know it.
Sophronia clenched her hands.

“For being told upon, you are being denied attendance at the upcoming stopover at Swiffle-on-Exe. There is an acting troupe in town. You will have to miss the show. And for being out during lockdown, you will not be allowed off the ship at all.”

Sophronia let out a breath and relaxed her hands. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Goodness, girl, what are you thanking me for?”

“You aren’t going to expel me.”

“Of course not! Don’t be silly. None of the
professors
actually saw you, and you avoided the mechanicals during a high-order alarm. That’s very good work indeed. And you’ve displayed untapped skills in climbing and night stealth. I’m considering
extra lessons as a result. We w [ ren in ere told you had gumption. Our mistake was in underestimating how much. Why were you out and about?”

“Curiosity.” Sophronia lied without hesitation.

Lady Linette pursed her lips. “That’s as good a reason as any. And now, girl, let us discuss hairstyles. I’m detecting young Lady Kingair’s effect on your coiffure. It won’t do, won’t do at all. She is a lost cause, but she has the rank and title to be eccentric. You may actually need to look like a
lady
upon occasion. From here on out, you are to put your hair up in curling rags every night. Get Miss Pelouse to show you how. I do not wish to see you with a plait ever again. Is that clear?”

Sophronia considered this her real punishment—the very worst of the lot.
Curling rag training from Monique, indeed!
Still, she bobbed another curtsy of acknowledgment. “Very good, my lady.”

“Good morning, Miss Temminnick.”

“Good morning, my lady.”

“Oh, and Miss Temminnick? You do realize you did not have to admit to your little excursion? It was your word against that of your accuser. Keep that in mind, in the future. Denial is always an option.” With which Lady Linette swept from the room, her morning dress one of a particularly fluffy lavender, so wide it barely fit through the door.

“It has to be Monique!” said Dimity. She was pacing around their room, her hands and arms flying in annoyance, as though she were fending off a bee. The ruffles on the sleeves of her
peach dress had an almost sea creature–like way of drifting about after her. “I wonder if Lady Linette is her
friend
on staff?”

Sophronia was charmed by how offended Dimity was on her behalf. “Of course it’s Monique. And I suppose it could be Lady Linette; she’s an actress, after all.” Sophronia collapsed onto her bed with a groan. “Oh, but
curling rags
!”

“They can’t be that bad.”

“Easy for you to say—you’ll never need them. Why did I have to be cursed with straight hair? And you know, I never cared much before now. What is this place doing to me? I’m coming over all frivolous.”

Dimity had no solution to that particular problem. “I’m sorry you’re going to miss the theatricals.”

“In Swiffle-on-Exe? It could be worse.”

“It
is
worse: all the boys will be attending.”

Sophronia flopped onto her back. She wasn’t certain whether to be upset or pleased by this. “That’s all right, really it is. I don’t think I’m quite ready for boys yet. My eyelash fluttering is subpar.”

“Oh, but that’s what Bunson’s is for! Practice. I overheard Monique telling Preshea all about it. Some of the girls even keep score. They use what we learn to make as many boys as possible fall in love with them. They aren’t allowed to encourage actual declarations, of course. If one of Mademoiselle Geraldine’s girls takes a real beau, he’d better be a baronet at the very least.”

“Isn’t Bunson’s training evil geniuses?”

“Yes, mostly.”

“Well, is that wise? Having a mess of seedling evil geniuses falling in love with you willy-nilly? What if they feel spurned?”

“Ah, but in the interim, think of the lovely gifts they can make you. Monique bragged that one of her boys made her silver and wood hair stick [od oan. s as anti-supernatural weapons. With amethyst inlay. And another made her an exploding wicker chicken.”

“Goodness, what’s that for?”

Dimity pursed her lips. “Who doesn’t want an exploding wicker chicken?”

Sidheag opened the door and stuck her head in. “Are you two going to wallow in here all day? It’s time to eat, and rumor is there’s going to be a big announcement over the scones.”

“We’re headed to Swiffle-on-Exe. There’s a play on. We’ll be allowed to attend alongside Bunson’s,” said Sophronia.

“Gracious, aren’t you in the know?” Sidheag arched an eyebrow and turned away. Today her dress was of plaid, as if she were a housekeeper.

Dimity sidled up to Sophronia and said, under her breath, “Plaid! Can you believe it?”

They followed Sidheag out to where the debuts stood waiting.

Dimity, with a mercurial gleam in her eye, said, “Sophronia claims we’re headed to Swiffle-on-Exe to see a play with Bunson’s.”

Instantly the others all began to chatter excitedly.

“Really? What kind of play?” Agatha was, for the first time in Sophronia’s experience, animated by the prospect. Agatha, so shy it was almost disruptive, never seemed to get excited about anything.

“Bunson’s? You mean
boys
?” Preshea’s pretty face narrowed into covetousness. Sophronia thought she looked like a partridge with a plucking disorder.