Prudence

by Gail Carriger

  “Indeed it is.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind filling in your staff and crew roster for restocking purposes here?”

  He handed Rue the stylus, which Rue immediately passed to Prim who kept better track of such things and had vastly superior penmanship. The two customs officers watched this, hawk-like. They seemed to be paying inordinately close attention to the proceedings. Oddly, they were as focused on Lieutenant Broadwattle as they were on Prim and Rue. Was Lieutenant Broadwattle under suspicion of misconduct? Rue cocked her head at the young man. He seemed twitchy, but nothing out of the ordinary for a gentlemen faced with Primrose in a pretty dress and good temper.

  He did seem perturbed that Rue had passed off the paperwork, perhaps because it now occupied the whole of that young lady’s attention. He rallied enough to ask, “Do you know the nature of your stores and local contacts, Lady Akeldama?”

  Rue shook her head. “No, I have people for that.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “Will there be anything else, lieutenant?”

  “I have the length of your stay down for one week starting tomorrow. Is that sufficient for your needs?”

  “As long as I can complete my social calls during that time. May I extend if necessary?”

  “Indeed, my lady. However…” He trailed off, distracted by Prim.

  Rue sighed. She was used to it. “I take it most activity commences after dark, when it is cooler.”

  Primrose was puzzling over a list of numbers in the margins of the paperwork.

  The two customs officials tensed.

  Then she moved blithely on with an obvious mental shrug.

  “Sir?” Rue drew Lieutenant Broadwattle’s attention back to herself.

  “Yes, after dark. Speaking of which, some of the local diplomats, their wives, and a few officers are meeting for a garden party at sunset this evening. Would you care to join us? The ambassador’s wife has authorised me to extend the invitation. I must say, we would welcome fresh faces and new society, not to mention unmarried ladies.”

  “Lieutenant Broadwattle!” reprimanded Primrose, pinking in pleasure. “You go too far.” Thus proving she had not been entirely focused on the paperwork.

  The young man lowered his head in mock shame.

  Rue, on the other hand, did nothing to disguise her delight. She loved a garden party, and to have one materialise that very evening in an exotic land. Topping! “We should love to attend.”

  “Will you bring the two gentlemen as escorts?” he asked, clearly hoping the answer would be no.

  Rue hated to disappoint. “Possibly one, probably not the other, but they are difficult to predict.”

  Prim finished listing relevant names and details and handed the parchment back over. “Any other customs business?”

  The young man remembered his duty. “Do you have anything to declare for the record? Imports, business engagements, other taxable items? We were told that this is purely a pleasure jaunt.”

  Rue and Prim shook their heads solemnly.

  “I do not recommend visiting the city proper without a guide, which I would be happy to arrange. Would tomorrow early morning suit? Sun-up? It is best to get as much done as possible before the heat.”

  After exchanging looks with Prim, Rue said, “That would be ideal. Will he come to the ship?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Thank you very much for saving us the bother. Now, Lieutenant Broadwattle, gentlemen, if that concludes our business? I think we will take the unspoken suggestion of the entire city and return to The Spotted Custard for a nap. This heat is most oppressive.”

  “Very good, ladies. I should say one gets accustomed to it, but I’ve been stationed here for nearly three years and I have yet to acclimatise.”

  Primrose was impressed. “Three years? I should never have guessed.”

  “You flatter me.”

  Rue grabbed her friend by the elbow and popped up her parasol with purpose. Things were about to get sappy – she saw all the signs.

  Reluctantly, Prim did the same. “Will we see you at the garden party, Lieutenant Broadwattle?”

  “I anticipate our renewed acquaintance with pleasure,” replied the young man smoothly.

  Prim continued, because she was a flirt, “As do I.”

  The officer blushed and stood hastily when they did. “Welcome to India, Lady Akeldama, Miss Tunstell.” He bowed them off.

  Rue and Prim twirled about, conscious that they looked as well in their expensive dresses retreating as they had done arriving, and returned across the mudflats to their gently bobbing airship.

  “Must you make every man we meet fall in love with you?” Rue wanted to know, without rancour.

  Prim gave this serious thought. “Yes. It’s a point of pride, you see?”

  “Ah, well, carry on then.”

  “Oh, but didn’t he have fine eyes? The finest, I think, I ever saw.”

  The problem with Primrose was she also fell in love back. Rue could do nothing more than pat her friend’s arm sympathetically.

  Everything was still and quiet on board the Custard. The decklings, cocooned in their hammocks, snored softly, and everyone else was down below in quarters. Only Spoo and Virgil sat watch, crouched under the parasol at the helm, playing a lazy game of pumpernickel and bickering softly.

  They stood to attention as Rue and Prim moved slowly up the gangplank.

  “All right, you two?” Rue inquired.

  “Tip-top, Lady Captain,” said Spoo.

  “Surviving well enough,” added Virgil, which earned him an ear-boxing from Spoo.

  “Delightful company you’re keeping, Virgil,” grinned Rue.

  “Delightful,” answered the valet, deadpan.

  Spoo boxed his ears again, harder.

  “Ow, now look here!” He turned on her.

  Spoo put both hands behind her back and whistled a little tune.

  Rue hustled Prim belowdecks before they were called to arbitrate.

  Rue settled in for tranquil repose, difficult as that might be in the dark, oppressive stuffiness of her cabin. Graceful and well-appointed as it may be, it was not made for Indian weather. Nevertheless, she attempted to ignore both the heat and increasingly strident tones of the two directly over her head.

  Then the tenor of the argument shifted. There came a yell that was by no means normal squabbling, and a loud thud.

  Rue leapt out of bed, wearing nothing but her thin shift, grabbed her mother’s parasol, and climbed up the captain’s ladder to the quarterdeck. She emerged blinking into the late afternoon light to find Spoo sitting triumphantly on the head of someone while Virgil resided on the legs. Both of them were rising up and down, as if riding a wave, as the individual in question convulsed in an effort to de-seat them.

  “What on earth?” Rue asked.

  Virgil’s eyes widened at her scanty attire. “Why, Lady Captain! What are you doing above boards dressed like that?”

  Spoo was not perturbed.

  Rue was beginning to suspect that nothing perturbed the girl. “Spoo, report!”

  “Intruder, captain! We caught the blighter trying to sneak straight up the gangplank.”

  At the mention of the word “captain”, the blighter in question stilled. He was clothed in plain unbleached material shaped into a very baggy shirt and some even baggier trousers. More of the same was wrapped about his head, face, and neck. Or what Rue could see of his head from under Spoo’s bottom.

  “Spoo, get off him, do.”

  “You’re sure that’s wise, captain?” Spoo’s expression suggested that she sincerely doubted Rue’s ability to defend herself with only a parasol.

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  Spoo got off.

  The man turned to look at Rue. He had beautiful large almond-shaped eyes and copper skin. Too beautiful. And awfully familiar.

  “You? How did you follow us so quickly? Percy will be so sad. He thought we were making especially good time.”r />
  The lady in question drew off her head wrap and spat out some bit of Spoo that had lodged in her teeth.

  Spoo and Virgil gasped. Possibly because they now knew they sat on a woman, more likely because she was so beautiful. It spoke volumes for Virgil’s presence of mind that he did not move from her legs – stunning female or no, she was still an intruder.

  Miss Sekhmet said in that cultured British accent with only a hint of lilting foreign tones, “Really, children, was that strictly necessary?”

  Rue popped open her parasol and used it as a shield to hide her indecent apparel. “We haven’t been here very long,” she said mildly. “We were not expecting visitors.”

  The woman sat up and attempted to shed Virgil from her legs.

  Virgil did not budge and, after hopping about indecisively from foot to foot, Spoo joined him there, doubling the burden.

  Rue contemplated telling them to get off, but Virgil looked quite militant in protection of his Lady Captain and Spoo seemed to be having far too much fun. So Rue let them stay, wondering how her unexpected caller might cope with rascals intent on military occupation of her lower extremities. It was almost pleasing to see such a very elegant female so very put upon.

  Miss Sekhmet stopped trying to remove the parasitical small persons after finding them quite tenacious. She wrapped herself in dignity and sat there, talking to Rue as though there were nothing amiss and she commonly found herself on the deck of a ladybird-shaped airship with younglings tenanting her person.

  “I warned you, metanatural, about India.”

  “So far, Miss Sekhmet, this moment has been the most unpleasant thing to occur here. And you, I hasten to add, are the one at the disadvantage, not I.”

  The woman wrinkled her aristocratic nose. “Oh, do tell them to get off. I’m not going to harm you. If I were, I’ve already had ample opportunity.”

  Rue arched an eyebrow. “Are you going to be any more forthcoming, or do you intend to persist in mysterious warnings?”

  Miss Sekhmet huffed in annoyance. “It is a matter of some” – she glared at Virgil and Spoo – “delicacy.”

  “You have a message for me?” Rue hazarded a guess.

  “I have been appointed speaker, more’s the pity.” Miss Sekhmet seemed annoyed by responsibility.

  “And you couldn’t have given it to me… before?”

  “No one realised you were unaware of the situation. Why else would I warn you off?”

  Ah, thought Rue, there it is. She does represent the other players after the tea.

  Miss Sekhmet continued. “I wanted to meet you. One of the greatest wonders of our age. I did not intend to be involved further.” She sounded like a finicky child being forced to eat her vegetables. “Once I realised that you were sent on purpose and already involved, I found I had no choice. I have my responsibilities, just as you do. Surely you understand?”

  It was funny to see such a refined lady look like a petulant child. Despite herself, Rue warmed to the enigmatic Sekhmet. She couldn’t help it. She had a soft spot for the disgruntled. That’s why she kept Percy around. “You may give me the message and have done with it. I assure you these two are capable of keeping secrets.” Her look said Virgil and Spoo had better be.

  Spoo and Virgil nodded with gleeful yet solemn expressions.

  The woman hesitated, muttering to herself in her own language. Finally she said, “I am instructed to ask that you attend tonight’s garden party. Someone there will be prepared to discuss terms.” She looked sceptically at Rue’s hideous parasol, loose hair, and bare feet.

  Without admitting that she was already intending to go, Rue nodded. “And how will I know this person?”

  “Oh, you will know.”

  “Not you?”

  “That would be awkward for other reasons. Besides, I am exhausted.”

  Rue frowned, trying to see beyond the intense beauty. There it was: the poor thing did look wan, even sickly. Her almond eyes were bloodshot, her skin drawn.

  Miss Sekhmet took a small steadying breath, then asked, “Is the muhjah aware of the activities here?”

  Rue nodded. Her mother had, after all, sampled the tea. Still it was an odd thing to bring up.

  Miss Sekhmet stayed on the subject. “She approves?”

  Rue nodded seriously. Tea was a serious business.

  Miss Sekhmet shook her head. “But it is such an imbalance.”

  She must be alluding to the smokiness of the blend. “The muhjah is very advanced in her tastes. There will be mixing.”

  The woman’s thick eyebrows arched in shock. No wonder that, for Lapsang-style teas were thought beyond the British palate. Only recently had they become accepted in the best drawing rooms, and even then it had been confined to Chinese imports. This woman, even if she were the proprietor of a very respectable tea export business interested in cutting out Dama’s interests, would not yet be privy to such information.

  “Very well. As a gesture of good faith, we are prepared to negotiate with you in parental absentia. And even that concession took all of my persuasive power. Tread carefully, skin-stalker.”

  Rue nodded. “Anything else?”

  “If you could wear a recognisable colour?”

  Rue considered both her and Prim’s wardrobes. “Purple, I think.”

  “Very well. That is all.”

  Rue nodded to Spoo and Virgil. “Let her go.”

  “But, Lady Captain!” protested Spoo.

  “Can’t we keep her?” Virgil wanted to know. “She’s so pretty.” As if she were a stray cat.

  “Virgil, don’t be rude,” remonstrated Rue.

  Reluctantly, the two relinquished the woman’s legs. Miss Sekhmet stood gingerly, then stretched slightly as if working out Spoo-induced kinks. She made a polite little bow to all three and then hurried at an indecently eager pace off The Spotted Custard.

  Rue considered. “I think, my dear Spoo, you might activate the gangplank drawback mechanism. No more unexpected visitors today. Do you concur?”

  Spoo snapped to attention. “Yes, Lady Captain.” And went to round up the necessary decklings to assist her in this task.

  “Virgil?”

  “Yes, Lady Captain?”

  “Keep an eye to the accessories, please. There may be a lioness around with a taste for parasols.”

  “Is that some kind of code, Lady Captain?”

  “My dear young man, I only wish it were.” With which Rue returned to her nap and dreamed of cold tea.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  IN WHICH PERCY ENCOUNTERS A PEPPER

  T

  o the surprise of everyone, including himself, Percy agreed to attend the garden party that evening. Rue forbade him to bring any books. Quesnel looked as if he could not decide whether to be amused or distressed. Primrose disappeared with her brother in order to monitor his apparel choices. Virgil was in a near panic. He’d never dressed his master for an actual event before, even something as casual as a garden party. Prim provided a most necessary service, for Percy emerged looking almost respectable.

  Of course, while his sister finished her own toilette, the professor mucked about in the library and managed to get covered in dust, skew his cravat, and wrinkle his waistcoat. A very long-suffering Virgil marched him abovedecks.

  “Hopeless,” pronounced his sister in exasperation before turning her ire on Rue.

  Without Dama to impose upon her, Rue leaned in favour of ease rather than style. She had selected a gown of pale lilac muslin that was startlingly plain and nearly four seasons old. It had no train and only a single band of dark purple velvet at the hem and collar. There was a demure pattern of cream appliqué on the bodice and over the forearms, and dark purple puff sleeves. That was all. It had a matching velvet hat with silk sweet peas in the same lilac colour and a ribbon like an undertaker’s down the back. Without a lady’s maid, Rue had resorted to twisting her mass of hair up quite simply. Dama would have disowned her on the spot.

  Prim w
as moved to tisking disapproval. “And here I thought Percy was the only one who required assistance.”

  Rue smiled at her. “This is a working event for me, my dear.”

  “What if you get run over? People would read about what you were wearing when you died in the papers.”

  “Don’t tempt fate, Prim. Besides, I need something practical.”

  “There is absolutely no call for you to use that horrible word. And what do you mean, working? You’ve never worked a day in your life, I’m happy to say.”

  Rue detailed, with some suppressed excitement, her naptime encounter with Miss Sekhmet.

  Prim was, as ever, an excellent sounding board. “But why did this female feel it necessary to approach you on the ship and not wait until you were out in the city?”

  Rue had no answer, only adding, “And why such urgency? Dama implied it was a secret economic concern. Admittedly, if he’s right and this new variant of the plant takes, others will be interested, but to go to such lengths for tea?”

  “Be fair, tea is important,” Primrose remonstrated.

  “And why mention my mother?” Rue continued. “To be sure, her job revolves around securing the safety of the empire, but that could hardly be a matter integral to a rove vampire’s tea concerns.” Percy and Prim, because of their mother’s intimate friendship and vampire state, knew of Rue’s mother’s position on the Shadow Council. So Rue felt she was not betraying any confidences by involving them. Percy wasn’t paying attention anyway.

  Primrose looked serious. “You’re certain about that?”

  Rue considered the ramifications of her mission. “Perhaps these new plants are more significant than even Dama thought? Or perhaps he misled me as to their nature.”

  “Oh, now, Rue, dear, I hardly think your Dama would let you walk blindly into a labyrinth of intrigue.”

  Rue didn’t entirely agree. Already one agent had contacted her using the name Puggle, a name only Dama used. “I’m his beloved daughter, true, but he is still a vampire and he doesn’t perceive danger in quite the same way as we mere mortals.”