Having set the mechanicals back in motion, Lady Linette skidded into the room, teetering on her heeled shoes to lean against the tilt.
“Oh, good, you’re all still here. Mademoiselle Geraldine, is everyone well?”
Mademoiselle Geraldine had collapsed back into her seat at the high table. “It appears so. But, my dear, whatever has happened?”
“Flywaymen,” reported Lady Linette. “We’re grounded, I’m afraid. And we suspect a gas leak on the record-room level, so we must evacuate. Luckily, we drifted back toward Swiffle. We are only a few miles from Bunson’s.”
The teachers moved to inspect the refugees. Sophronia had no doubt there was more to the story, but this was what had been decided was worthy of headmistress and student ears.
Lady Linette began barking orders. “Ladies and visiting gentlemen, please congregate separately by year. Form orderly groups and follow me. We’re going to climb out one of the nearest side balconies and drop to the ground from there. Ladies, grab your wraps and switch to practical shoes, if you have them. Dancing slippers over heels, walking boots over both. I will not have you catching cold or twisting ankles needlessly. Gentlemen, do not forget your hats. This is no lark—everyone is to stay respectable. We are safely landed, such as it is, so there is no cause to lose our sense of propriety.”
Students scrambled about, searching for clothing and dropped objects. It took a few moments to get sorted, but they managed. Many of the more resourceful young ladies pocketed crumpets and other portable nibbles. Some even wrapped up whole cakes in their shawls. Everyone had heard stories about how bad the food was at the boys’ school.
There was disappointment at the precipitous end to the celebration, not to mention the prospect of tromping across a damp moor in dinner slippers, but it was somewhat mitigated by excitement. There was an undercurrent of eagerness among some of the older girls. Preshea positively glowed. A late-night stroll across the moor might be utterly unpleasant, but it was an opportunity for liaison unprecedented by a mere tea party. After all, they were Geraldine’s girls, always eager for a bit of peril. And this, it could not be denied, was shaping up to be a most perilous evening.
Sophronia’s mind was calculating. She couldn’t accept that flywaymen would attack for no other reason than to crash the airship. She would wager Dimity’s jet necklace that they were being grounded for a specific purpose, and that the flywaymen—if indeed it was them—were under orders from the Picklemen. Sophronia had not forgotten that there were already Picklemen on board.
She had, however, forgotten Professor Braithwope.
EVACUATION SITUATION
Professor Braithwope came running in, mustache aquiver. He was still wearing full evening garb, but over it he had donned a yellow brocade banyan and sleeping cap. In one hand he clutched his knitting, and in the other a very special crossbow. He was quite absentminded about holding it, as though the crossbow were a stray profiterole that had caught on his sleeve. Sophronia had seen that miniature crossbow only once before, when she first arrived at the school. It shot a kind of targeting bolt, upon which the soldier mechanicals aimed their cannons. She had thought such an important weapon would be removed from the vampire’s possession the moment his tether snapped. But for some reason he still had it, which meant the school had been unprotected during the previous battle.
He’s been running around with that and the teachers didn’t know where to find him because Dimity and I abandoned our post. Sophronia winced, guilt ridden. Was she responsible for the airship crashing, because she hadn’t stayed to nanny a vampire?
Quick as the vampire had dashed in, he dashed out again.
Sophronia grabbed Dimity by the hand and nipped behind a tipped-over tea table. While the others obediently grouped by age, they made for the nearest door. Sophronia turned in the doorway and, pretending to breathe hard, dashed toward Professor Lefoux, dragging Dimity behind.
“Have you seen Professor Braithwope?” she gasped.
Professor Lefoux glared at them. “He was just here, but now he’s gone again. Wasn’t he your responsibility?”
Dimity fell in with the story easily. “There was all sorts of chaos, and then he grabbed up this tiny crossbow and ran off.”
“We couldn’t possibly hold him. He’s too fast and strong.” Sophronia padded the lie further.
“I hardly think that would stop you, Miss Temminnick.” Professor Lefoux was not playing along.
“You didn’t give us permission to use force. Certainly not on a teacher.” Sophronia made her face as blank as possible.
Professor Lefoux shot them a suspicious look. “Why are you dressed like that?”
Dimity was ready. “My idea. Even if we were only going to see the professor, we wanted to look our best. It’s New Year’s Eve, after all.”
Lady Linette came up, tutting. “We should never have put students in charge of a teacher. If we had known this would happen… Ah, well, can’t worry over spilled tea. Where is the good vampire?”
“That’s what I asked.” Sophronia’s tone implied that this was a most sensible question.
Professor Lefoux snorted. “He was here and then nipped off, with our sighting bolts, mind you. Could have used those half an hour ago. I had best go after him.”
Lady Linette countermanded her. “No, he’ll be fine. The ship is grounded and he can’t very well stray. We are taking all possible victims with us. I need you to help with the students. Your drone duties will have to wait.”
Professor Lefoux looked more annoyed at being told what to do than being denied the opportunity to check up on her master. Sophronia supposed being drone to an insane vampire was a bit different from being drone to a regular-type vampire.
“What about us?” she asked.
“You are absolved of your responsibility with regard to Professor Braithwope. Line up with the others to disembark. We’re away until I’m certain all the leaks have been dealt with. Is that understood?”
Sophronia and Dimity curtsied.
A thought occurred to Sophronia. “Wait—Lady Linette?”
“What is it, Miss Temminnick? I have an evacuation to conduct.”
“What about the sooties?”
Lady Linette arched one brow. “Concern for the lower orders? How terribly civic-minded of you, Miss Temminnick.”
“Well?”
“Who do you think is responsible for fixing those gas leaks?”
Sophronia clamped down an immediate protest. Of course, sooties always got the dangerous tasks. The last time a cannon tore through one of the balloons, it had been sooties who climbed to repaired the damage. Gas leaks, by comparison, were easier dealt with—so long as they took care not to spark.
“And what about the danger to the sooties from Professor Braithwope?”
“You should have thought of that before you let him free, now, shouldn’t you? I’ve no time to worry about the grubby necks of the working class. Do as you are instructed.”
Despite Lady Linette’s dismissive sneer, not to mention her own upbringing, Sophronia considered many of those grubby boys her friends. Soap adored them all. If they got hurt, he would never forgive her. That reminded her of Soap.
Suddenly, she wasn’t so upset about being evacuated to Bunson’s. She could warn Vieve that the Picklemen knew about Soap, perhaps even stop whatever evil they had planned for him. Although half of her still wanted to stay and protect the sooties.
“There isn’t enough of me to go around,” she muttered, climbing after the other students.
So it was that the tea party attendees—still in fancy dress—as well as the human staff and a handful of the off-shift greasers and engineers found themselves walking across a moor. The night was clear and the moon so near to full that, despite the cold, it looked to be a pleasant hike. One could easily pretend the lump of a tor off to the left was picturesque. Privately, Sophronia always thought tors looked like cow pats. Young men offered young ladies their arms. Bunson’s teachers o
ffered Geraldine’s theirs. All was amicable.
Mademoiselle Geraldine stayed on board. She was still a little tipsy. Sophronia hung back in hopes of catching a roving sootie. If she could get a message to Handle about the fact that there were loose Pickleman intelligencers—not to mention a loose vampire—on board she’d feel much better about the whole situation.
She overheard the headmistress’s brief exchange with Sister Mattie.
“No, dear, no. You know I never leave the ship. I shall be perfectly topping here. I will avoid open flame, and roving fang, and finish the bubbly. Don’t concern yourself on my account. I’ll see you in the morning. Enjoy your midnight jaunt.” She belched quietly.
“Oh, really,” said Sister Mattie. “Just be careful?”
“Oh, my dear, what could possibly go wrong?”
Sophronia was never more sensitive to the headmistress’s ignorance than at that juncture. It felt horrible, leaving the school without any protection. All the fallen dirigible had now was a headmistress who knew nothing, a crazy vampire who knew a whole lot but couldn’t remember any of it, and a handful of sooties.
“Lady Linette.” Sophronia wove her way through the long line of strolling couples to her teacher. Preshea had found herself a tall moon-faced lad who looking nothing short of stunned at his good fortune. Poor chap. She exchanged a brief glance with the deadly brunette, and then left her to her work.
“Permission to speak freely?” Sophronia had once heard a soldier use that phrase.
“At a school for spies, Miss Temminnick? Surely you jest.” Lady Linette stared at her, unblinking. They were of a height, for Lady Linette still wore her heeled slippers.
Sophronia was impressed—only Lady Linette would hike across the moor in Paris kid shoes with a military lift. She looked meaningfully at Lady Linette’s escort, the oldest and most severe of the Bunson’s teachers.
Lady Linette sighed. “Excuse me a moment, Professor Faldetta? I’m certain you understand. She’s one of those students. You must have those?”
“Say no more, dear lady. Say no more.”
Sophronia and Lady Linette moved away, out of everyone’s hearing.
“Quickly, child.”
“I wish to stay with the ship.” Sophronia almost shocked herself with the statement. My goodness, she thought, I am growing up. Either that or I’m learning the value of putting in the appearance of playing by the rules.
“What did you just say?”
“I’ve no intention of actually going aboard, and I shall certainly stay away from any possible explosion. It’s only that I don’t feel right about leaving the professor unguarded.”
“He has Mademoiselle Geraldine.”
“She’s partaken rather freely of the champagne.” Quite apart from her being a figurehead and incompetent.
“Miss Temminnick! Imagine speaking of your betters in such a manner.”
Sophronia gritted her teeth. Even when she wanted to be straight with Lady Linette, it was near on impossible to tell her the truth. At this point, both of them automatically twisted their words.
A new suspicion occurred—perhaps Lady Linette was behind it all? Perhaps this was her scheme—not to crash the airship—but to get them all inside Bunson’s overnight, a mass infiltration. Sophronia switched tactics. “Whatever it is you want to find out at Bunson’s, you can’t possibly need me as well as everyone else.”
Lady Linette cocked her head. “Is that what you think is going on?”
“I think it’s a possibility. And if not, you are the type to seize on this as a serendipitous opportunity.”
“But?”
“But I think the crash was arranged, and we both know who likely arranged it. I think the sooties are in danger and someone has to stay with them. And I think there are Picklemen already on board. You didn’t believe me before, and this is the result. You owe me.”
“Do I really?” Lady Linette was a master at controlling voice and expression.
“Please, Lady Linette, I’m begging you.”
“Are you indeed? A novel experience for us both. But it’s hardly sporting of me to make an exception only for you, Miss Temminnick.”
“Look at them. I’m the only one who even wants to stay.” Sophronia gestured in frustration.
It could not be denied. The students ambling across the moor were clearly enjoying themselves.
“Point taken, Miss Temminnick. Very well, but do it quietly, and leave your particular friends out of it. All of them stay with me. If you get yourself killed, I’ll deny everything and report it as a horseback riding accident to your family.”
Sophronia arched an eyebrow, wondering how Lady Linette would finagle that, but not doubting her for a second. “Agreed.”
Of course, Sophronia could have faded off into the shadows of the moor right then, but she had to talk to Dimity and Agatha first.
“So?” asked Dimity the moment she rejoined them.
“I’m going back.”
“Very well.” Dimity did not even flinch. “What are we waiting for?”
“No,” Sophronia hated to say it. “This time, only me.”
“That’s not on. We’re a team,” protested Dimity, “like tea and milk, or cake and custard, or pork and apple.”
“Yes, we get the point,” interjected her brother.
“I agree. You can’t do it alone.” Agatha showed unexpected pluck.
This caused Pillover to emit an agonized grumble. He’d come along if Agatha insisted, but he knew Sophronia of old, and following her always got messy. Once, he’d ended up in a petticoat.
Sophronia explained. “It’s not that I don’t want you. It’s that I was recently thinking: if only there were more of me. One to stay and another to go to Bunson’s. Then I realized that there kind of is more. I have you lot. The Pistons know about Soap. They know he’s hiding at Bunson’s. He’s vulnerable tonight, so close to full moon. He only has Vieve to protect him. You know she’s not a fighter. You have to go take care of him for me. Please. I’ll find out what’s happening with the airship. And I’ll have Bumbersnoot with me.”
“Oh, yes, Bumbersnoot, heaps of good he’ll do.” Dimity didn’t like it at all. “One of us could still go with you.”
“I’m sorry. I’d want to come in your shoes, but there’s something bigger going on. Someone has to get word to the dewan as well. One of you should ride to London while the other stays with Soap. I won’t ask Pillover. He hasn’t the training, apart from his general… reticence.” Pillover looked like he felt he ought to protest, as a gentleman, but preferred to be relieved.
“Sophronia sending to London for help? I never thought I’d see the day,” mocked Dimity.
“I don’t like it, but the dewan has to come for Soap. And he has to know that the flywaymen brought down the school. Although how to get him the message—”
Agatha interrupted, her voice cool with confidence. “I can get to him.”
Sophronia turned to her in surprise. “You can?”
Agatha looked at all three of them. Her face was suffused with mixed guilt and pride. “You never guessed did you? Not even you, Sophronia?”
Sophronia’s stomach sank. “Guessed what, exactly, Agatha?”
Dimity put her hand over her mouth, preparing to be shocked. Something awful was about to happen.
Agatha drew herself upright and took a deep breath.
Pillover ogled. Poor boy couldn’t help himself. Dimity was too carried away by the drama to box his ears.
Agatha said, “I’ve been working for someone, all along.”
“You mean the entire time you’ve been at the school you’ve already had a patron?” Sophronia struggled to understand the specifics.
Agatha nodded. “My papa’s not all that rich.”
Dimity squeaked. “Oh, Agatha!”
Sophronia’s brow wrinkled. She felt hurt and betrayed, but she was also impressed. “All along? Gosh. Were you assigned to infiltrate the school from the start, or
were you sent here for training?”
Agatha tilted her head. “Bit of both.” The redhead glanced at Pillover then, as if she’d been afraid to do so before. She was still the same person—there was her awkwardness leaking through. Still, Sophronia couldn’t help but admit that Agatha was an excellent choice to infiltrate a school for spies.
“You don’t seem surprised,” Agatha said to Pillover, voice soft.
Pillover shrugged, dour as ever. “I always figured you were special. Lack of chatter.”
Dimity was on the edge of tears. “Oh, Agatha, how could you? You aren’t…” She trailed off, took a small breath, and then whispered, “You aren’t working for them, are you?”
“Them who?”
“The flywaymen?”
“No.”
“The Picklemen?”
“Certainly not!”
“The Westminster Hive? Alongside Monique?”
“Not quite.”
Sophronia’s mind whirled. She was calculating all the times Agatha had been in the right place at the right time, or absent when she might have been caught. She thought over all the strange glances she had interpreted as social awkwardness. All those gifts from Agatha’s wealthy, but absent, father. All those dresses, so fine and fashionable, so exactly wrong for Agatha’s coloring and figure. Almost too exactly wrong.
“Lord Akeldama,” Sophronia stated rather than asked.
Agatha, looking miserable, nodded.
“Nicely done.” Sophronia was impressed. “Are you set up to become his drone once you finish?”
Agatha shrugged. “He doesn’t take females, as a rule. Although he once offered for you in a carriage about town.” By which statement she proved she was telling the truth. Sophronia had told the others Lord Akeldama was courting her for indenture, but she had never detailed that private drive when the vampire first suggested he make her his drone.
Agatha continued her explanation. “But you’re pretty. Plus, you’d stay in the field for work and in the background the rest of the time.”
Sophronia opened her mouth to protest, as modesty demanded, but Agatha forged on, now looking more fierce than miserable. “I’m better at being invisible and dowdy. Being the wallflower. No, don’t try to make me feel better. I know what I’m good at. But I also know I’m an object of pity. That’s useful, too, but doesn’t make a girl feel all that nice most of the time. He saw through it, you know? From the very first time we met. I was only ten. But he won’t take me for a drone and he won’t put me in the field where my talents aren’t up to Sophronia’s standards.”
Manners & Mutiny Page 16
