Waistcoats & Weaponry

by Gail Carriger

  The boys were already there. Soap had found a number of large wicker picnic baskets and stuffed them with food filched from the kitchen. Felix provided a pillow sack containing a collection of menswear. Pillover was standing off to the side with these items, watching as the other two attempted to extract the airdinghy from its intimate relationship with the gazebo.

  While Dimity went to point out how it had been incorporated, Sophronia dashed off with Sidheag to find Roger. He might know where Mumsy was keeping the helium.

  Roger proved amenable to repurposing the transportation nodules, so long as Sophronia took the blame. He hooked up a donkey to the helium cart so quickly, it was almost as if he had been expecting never to use it for the party display.

  Sophronia gave him a sardonic look.

  “This much helium, miss, for a lantern show? Bloody great waste.”

  “My thoughts exactly, Roger.”

  They returned with donkey and helium just as the airdinghy basket tumbled off the roof of the gazebo with a crash. Fortunately, it survived intact. Felix and Soap righted it and jumped inside to throw out the four balloons. While they wrestled the sail and mast up the middle, the girls and Roger unrolled the balloons and began to fill them with helium. There was no way to rush this part, although Sophronia kept glancing back to the house, where the shifting lights were her only clue that all was still chaos in the ballroom.

  None too soon, the four balloons were filled. They tugged up the basket so that it rose sedately into the air, shedding decorative bits of gazebo in its wake. Felix and Soap managed to raise the center sail. It was a pity they disliked each other so intensely, for it was clear that they made an efficient team. Sophronia appreciated efficiency.

  Dimity and Sidheag climbed inside, awkward in long skirts and with no ladder. Sophronia swung Bumbersnoot over. Pillover passed up the hampers. Roger tossed in the sack of clothes.

  “Everyone good to go?” Sophronia asked, wondering what they were forgetting.

  Four faces peeked over the edge, nodding. Soap and Felix extended their arms down while Dimity and Sidheag went to the other side of the gondola against the lean.

  The balloons caught a breeze and they bobbed up a bit.

  Sophronia held up her hands to be lifted inside.

  “What in heaven’s name is going on here?” came Petunia’s shocked voice. She appeared as if by magic around the side of Mumsy’s rhododendrons.

  “Cut us free, Pillover!” yelled Sophronia, dangling off the side. Felix had both his hands wrapped around one of her wrists and Soap the other.

  “Sophronia Angelina Temminnick, what on earth are you doing to the gazebo now?”

  Pillover unlashed the airdinghy from where it had been tied to the gazebo columns.

  It lifted sedately upward.

  “Wait,” cried Petunia, “come back here this instant! You can’t just drift off with a duke’s son. That’s not sporting!”

  Felix and Soap hauled Sophronia into the gondola. She blessed the split skirt of her costume; it allowed her to leg over and land on her feet inside. She turned to look back at her sister.

  “Sorry, Petunia, but this is an emergency. I’m only borrowing him for a bit.”

  Petunia stood, head tilted back, watching them float away. Pillover slouched over to stand next to her. They were outside earshot, so Sophronia had no idea what he said, but to everyone’s surprise, Petunia seemed mollified. She took his arm, and he led her with great dignity back toward the house.

  “He’s coming out well, for a pustule,” said Dimity, with evident pride.

  “He may have found his calling at last,” said Sophronia. “Hoodwinking my sisters. That’s no mean feat. We have brothers, too; we’re usually immune to their charms.”

  Dimity chuckled. “Imagine Pill, with charms! What a hoot.”

  Sidheag said, in all seriousness, “He should be at Mademoiselle Geraldine’s, he’d make a great intelligencer. No one should ever believe it of him.” She turned to face inside and assess how they were handling the airdinghy.

  Soap was concentrating on manning the sail, as if he actually knew what he was about.

  “Do you know what you are doing, Soap?” Sophronia asked.

  “Not really, miss, but someone’s got to.”

  “So, which way is north?” asked Sidheag.

  Sophronia leaned over the side of the basket, squinting into the night, looking for the lights of Wootton Bassett. The basket tilted and Dimity hurried to counterbalance.

  Sophronia pointed. “That way, more east than north for now. Everyone look out for a big clock face. That’ll be the nearest railway station.”

  With no propeller, they had to drift up and down, searching for a breeze headed in the correct direction. Finally, they hooked into one that carried them along at a sedate pace. This was not exactly a high-speed, high-risk endeavor. Fortunately for them, Pillover seemed to have adequately distracted Petunia, and the mechanical malfunction seemed to have adequately distracted everyone else. Sophronia kept looking back, but no carriage or horseman came galloping after them.

  Dimity gave a little cry. “There it is!”

  Indeed, there it was—a small clock tower, peeking up above the other buildings of the town. Soap grabbed at the tiller and the airdinghy obligingly slid to one side. Thus they approached the station silently, a small bobbing craft within the damp night.

  While Soap and Felix bickered mildly over how best to steer, Sidheag turned to Sophronia. “We can catch a train north there?”

  Sophronia hated to disappoint. “Wootton Bassett’s not very big and, as a general rule, people are going through it to somewhere else. Not many trains stop, and when they do it’s either east to London or Oxford, or west to Bristol.”

  “Well, I certainly don’t want to go back to London.”

  “Nor do you want to go to Bristol. Who would?” said Dimity, a decidedly snobbish tone to her voice.

  “We need one heading to Oxford?” suggested Sidheag.

  Sophronia nodded. “From there we can switch to a northbound line. I’m worried there won’t be one until morning, but it’s worth a try. Wootton rarely gets nighttime passenger trains.”

  The other two knew what that meant. If a passenger could get somewhere quickly, and with all the modern conveniences of first class, there was no need for overnight service. Vampires couldn’t leave their territory, and werewolves could move faster on four paws than a train on rails.

  Nevertheless, Sophronia had hopes. “There are sometimes freight trains puffing through at night—out of the ports. We might be able to jump one of those, although freight will be going to London. We’d have to scramble to hop a passenger halfway to get to Oxford.”

  Sidheag looked doubtful. A freight train wouldn’t stop at Wootton Bassett unless they flagged it down. “Do you have a plan?”

  “Of course,” said Sophronia, but then added in confusion, “Except it doesn’t look like I need it. See there?”

  They were coming in over the station, and lo and behold, there was a train, sitting patiently, as if waiting for them.

  “My, that one is a peculiar-looking beast,” Sophronia said, tilting her head in confusion.

  “Looks pretty enough to me,” responded Sidheag, who clearly had great, if blind, affection for the railway.

  Sophronia summoned Felix. “Lord Mersey, stop bothering Soap and come look at this.”

  “I’m not bothering anyone!” Felix left off trying to fly the airship and came to stand next to Sophronia at the side of the basket. Dimity and Sidheag stayed to the opposite side. It was a dance they’d been conducting since they floated off, in order to properly weight the four balloons.

  “Have you ever seen a train like that before?” Sophronia assumed that Felix was well traveled.

  The young lord shook his head, equally mystified. “Goodness, no. It looks as if someone crammed a first-class passenger train and a freight train together. Most abnormal.”

  Sophronia tilted her
head. “That’s exactly what I thought.”

  “What’s going on?” demanded Dimity.

  “It looks like someone took four carriages from a passenger train and then added two from a freight in between them.”

  “Could it be a circus or some other kind of acting troupe?” suggested Dimity.

  Felix said, “I think it’s more likely a special delivery—military, perhaps. With the freight carriages in the middle like that? It’s as if the passengers are needed to protect them.” He craned his head over the edge and to one side, as if trying to see the side of the train.

  “Careful,” said Sophronia.

  “Aww, Ria, you care.”

  “Don’t be silly. I prefer not to clean up the mess if you fall out.”

  “I’d miss you, too, my lovely.”

  “Would you stop leaning!” Sophronia actually was worried. Felix wasn’t trained to fall overboard the way she was.

  “Looks like there is writing on the side of one of the freight cars. Can’t read it, though. Might be a hint.” He finally pulled himself to safety.

  “Well,” said Sophronia philosophically, “since it looks to be headed in the correct direction, shall we try for it?”

  “Why not?” said Sidheag.

  They floated on with greater purpose, if no greater speed.

  Unfortunately, the little breeze they were riding wasn’t fast enough. The engine of the train puffed to life, without the customary toot of warning. This peculiar beastie was apparently interested in being stealthy. Or as stealthy as possible, for a train.

  “We aren’t going to make it in time.” Sidheag looked resigned, but no closer to tears than normal. That was a relief. She seemed to be getting her gumption back.

  Felix rounded on Soap. “Can’t you make her go faster?”

  Soap did not dignify this with a reply. Airdinghies were designed for secrecy, not speed.

  Sophronia took out her hurlie and lashed one of the airdinghy mooring ropes behind the grapple.

  Dimity followed this action with wide, troubled eyes. “I do not think what you are about to do is a very good idea.”

  Sophronia looked at Felix and Sidheag. “Can you rig something up with one of the other mooring ropes?”

  Felix looked doubtful but went poking about the gondola for something sharp and curved.

  Dimity produced an umbrella, but it was not strong enough.

  “What we need is an anchor,” said Sophronia.

  They closed in on the train; it was now spitting distance away.

  It steamed up and began to leave the station with a quiet chug-chug.

  Sophronia took aim and shot her grappling hook.

  Felix leaned over the side and took a swing with an improvised lasso. He missed whatever protrusion he was aiming for.

  Sidheag tutted at him and took the lasso away to give it a try. Being a gentleman, he let her, although he was clearly not pleased with ceding a sporting endeavor to a female. Sidheag, however, managed to loop the lasso over a finial-looking thing on the last passenger carriage on her first try.

  Sophronia’s hurlie scraped along the top of the same passenger carriage and then hooked into the front top lip of the last coach. Now they had purchase on two points of the same carriage.

  The train picked up speed out of the station and both ropes jerked. Sophronia, for added security, unstrapped her hurlie and fastened it to the railing of the gondola. She trusted Vieve to have built the hurlie to hold her weight, not necessarily to haul an airdinghy full of people.

  The airdinghy leaned dangerously as it was suddenly being dragged along by a moving train. Luckily, the locomotive wasn’t moving fast. Nevertheless, an airship had not yet been built to be dragged along by something big on the ground.

  “Soap,” yelled Sophronia into the wind, “we need to take her down, land her on top of the train.”

  “Oh, miss, that’s not your best idea.”

  “We can do it.”

  “You, my dear, are overly optimistic!” said Felix, agreeing with Soap for once.

  The gondola leaned all the way to one side. Dimity shrieked and almost tumbled over the edge. Sidheag grabbed on to her and the railing at the same time. Soap braced himself against the tiller, and then realized there was no point—the sail was now useless.

  The train slowed. The airdinghy partly righted itself.

  Soap pulled in the sail.

  Sophronia said, “Everyone take a corner of the basket and let out the helium, slowly now, not too fast.”

  “Oh god oh god oh god,” murmured Dimity, who up until that moment Sophronia would never have categorized as particularly religious. “This is bad.”

  Sidheag agreed. “Cut us loose, Sophronia, you’re hurting the poor train. There’ll be another one along soon.”

  But Sophronia knew they could do it. Plus, she was wildly curious about that strange-looking train. “Brace for it, and hold tight!”

  Sidheag took one corner, Dimity another, Felix the third, Sophronia the fourth, with Soap holding the center and manning the controls.

  Each of the four balloons had various dangling cords, but one cord in particular, lined with small red flags, was connected to the helium release flap at the base.

  Sophronia nodded and they all tugged on their red flags at once.

  The airdinghy jolted and sank like a stone.

  “Whoa, stop, too much!” yelled Soap.

  The train below them picked up speed and the gondola tilted in response.

  Only Soap managed to hang on, possibly because he was the strongest among them. Everyone else cried and fell. Sidheag landed with her feet near Dimity’s head. Sophronia landed on Felix. The picnic hampers landed one on Sidheag’s foot and the other on Soap. Soap caught it by the handle and lashed it down to the base of the tiller with a few quick loops of spare rope. Sidheag grunted in pain but seemed no more than bruised.

  “Well, Ria, this is nice,” said Felix.

  Sophronia was plastered against him. She struggled to roll away. He put one skinny arm about her, keeping her close.

  It was a bit too good feeling. Sophronia had a brief hysterical thought that perhaps Felix was like figgy pudding. Rich and delicious but best sampled in moderation. A seasonal treat. He smelled amazing.

  Sophronia righted herself and shrugged Felix off. “Ready, everyone, let’s try again. Little more gradual this time.”

  Soap was tall enough to lean over and pull down on one release cord and then another. Sophronia rolled to one side and Dimity to the other, pulling on those flags. The basket sank some more. Felix and Sidheag began to ratchet in the mooring ropes. No easy task against the pull of the train, but they did their best.

  It was working. By careful degrees they sank down, taking care to go toward the train before sinking further; otherwise they might be dragged directly behind and fall to the tracks. The mooring ropes had winches attached to the top. Sidheag and Felix strained against the levers.

  Then, with a clunk, the gondola landed on the top of the rear passenger carriage. The basket was still on its side, which made for an awkward crash. The last of the helium escaped the balloons, and the balloons collapsed half on top of the train, half onto the basket and everyone’s heads. Quickly as they could, the five stowaways untangled themselves and climbed out. Sophronia knew they had made too much of a racket on the roof, but no one seemed interested in checking the source.

  Everyone was bruised and shaken, but otherwise unharmed. Dimity was white faced but still functioning. After all, there had been no blood. Sidheag was looking, if anything, buoyed by the experience. Soap was stoic and calm. Felix was grinning.

  “Jolly good,” he said, sounding a bit too much like a toff out on the town.

  Sophronia gave him a quelling look and tried not to think about being pressed against him.

  After a brief discussion, they decided to leave the airdinghy where it was. Its usefulness was weighed as superior to the fact that its discovery would alert others to t
heir presence.

  “Here’s hoping we don’t go through any tunnels” was Sophronia’s opinion.

  They extracted their supplies. Mercifully, the picnic hampers had stayed latched during the landing, although Sophronia couldn’t vouch for the condition of the contents. The hard-boiled eggs had probably coddled in shock. They had to collect the clothing, scattered about, and stuff it back into the sack.

  Sophronia’s heart was in her mouth. “Oh, no, where’s Bumbersnoot!”

  She began frantically rustling through the collapsed balloons, her world in crisis. Had he fallen out? Was he lying damaged and alone in the middle of the moor?

  Soap produced him from within the second picnic basket. “Stashed him there for safety when we first took to the skies.”

  Sophronia clutched her mechanimal gratefully. “Oh, thank goodness!” She resisted a near-overwhelming urge to embrace Soap.

  Bumbersnoot wagged his tail at her and tooted a bit of smoke out his ears in excitement.

  The train rattled along at a snail’s pace, for which Sophronia was grateful. They lashed down the gondola and rolled up the balloons as much as they could. Then they cautiously made their way to the side and peered over the edge. Like most first-class carriages, this one had three doors along its side for boarding at a station, one to each separate compartment. There was no ladder or way to climb down, and simply a footboard at the coach door.

  Soap, who’d only ever seen a train from above, was intrigued. “It’s like they stuck three horse coaches together.”

  Sophronia smiled at him. “I believe that was the basis of the design, yes.”

  “We’ll have to all share one coach, then, won’t we, miss?”

  “I know, terribly uncouth, girls and boys traveling together without a chaperone.” Sophronia gently mocked his prudishness, especially since they’d recently been tumbling all over one another in a balloon.

  “I suppose we need to be able to communicate,” relented Soap, who nevertheless looked wistfully down at the footboard of the middle door, as if he actually wanted to be separated from the girls and alone with Felix for the rest of the evening.

  Felix, who by rights ought to have been more gallant than Soap about everyone’s sensibilities, only gave the sootie a scornful look.