Curtsies & Conspiracies (Finishing School #2)

Professor Shrimpdittle’s boyishly handsome face became suffused with red, and he glared at the vampire teacher. Professor Braithwope, flustered by actually having to deal with a human illness, remained unaware of the man’s ire.

The matron arrived. She and Sister Mattie made a litter out of some parasols and carried the insensate Monique from the room.

By now, word had spread, and most of the lessons were on hiatus. The doors were crowded with curious students, a consequence of their education. A few milled about in the hallway, causing Dimity some distress in returning. Vieve popped up, watching with interest as the fainted girl was carried past. She exchanged a few words with Pillover, who was lurking near Professor Shrimpdittle.

“What did that vampire do to her?” the visiting professor blustered loudly.

“Don’t be silly, Algonquin,” Professor Lefoux sneered. “The girl fainted. Could hardly be Aloysius’s fault!”

“No good can come of having vampires supervising a bevy of nubile young girls,” insisted Shrimpdittle.

Pillover said something to Vieve that made her laugh. The girl then trotted back the way she had come. Sophronia realized Pillover must be included in the plot to get Vieve into Bunson’s, as he knew her real identity. How to persuade him?

The girls returned to class, somber after the sudden illness in their midst.

“Imagine, fainting forward!” Preshea whispered, white with shock.

What did Monique eat? Useful to know, thought Sophronia. I must ask Sister Mattie. Dover’s powder, perhaps? And why did Monique want to get out of class so badly she poisoned herself?

Over supper, Pillover agreed to Vieve’s planned infiltration, because it was evil to hide a girl from his professors, and he’d yet to do anything truly evil. “If I’m found out, I’ll probably be awarded top marks. So I’m game.” His expression remained morosely impassive. Poor Pillover; everything was a struggle. Here he was, forced to be bad, when at heart, he was a rather agreeable fellow. No wonder he behaved like a pustule, as his sister put it.

Felix watched Sophronia’s whispered interchange with the younger boy with an odd expression on his face. She made certain he could not overhear the actual conversation.

Monique looked none the worse for her faint. She must have used the illness as an excuse to read those other secret letters because she promptly engaged in an odd role reversal.

She took a seat between Dimity and Agatha, not Preshea and one of the boys.

“Dimity, you’re looking quite pretty this evening,” she said awkwardly.

“Um, thank you, Monique?” Dimity was tentative as she frantically searched for the barb within the compliment.

Sophronia and Pillover stopped talking in order to watch this fascinating proceeding.

“Such a nice bracelet you have.” Monique smiled. It looked like it pained her. The bracelet was one of gilt filigree with paste amethyst stones.

Dimity sniffed. “Thank you again. Can I help you with something, Monique?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. It seems that we must make up the numbers. I was hoping you and your lovely brother might honor us with your attendance at my coming-out ball.”

Pillover choked on his mulligatawny soup, snorting a small bit out his nose. Dimity looked at Sophronia, eyes desperate.

Sophronia gave a slight nod and then pointed at herself.

Dimity nodded back. “We will, of course, consider your kind offer, but you know I couldn’t possibly attend without Sophronia. We do everything together.”

Monique winced.

“And Sidheag. And Agatha.” The other two girls looked up. Agatha pretended to be pleased. Sidheag attempted not to look disgusted. Sophronia successfully hid a smile.

Monique gritted her teeth. “In that case, you are all invited. I hope you have outfits suitable to the occasion.” Poor Monique; she couldn’t resist saying something nasty.

“I do now,” said Sophronia, but she did not push. This was far too fascinating of a character change. Something in those letters had forced Monique to issue invitations to Dimity and Pillover, which was sinister considering the kidnapping attempts.

Felix turned to Sophronia. “I demand the first dance and the dinner dance, fair Ria.”

Sophronia came over all coy. “Don’t be greedy. You can have the third. I’ll consider the dinner.”

“You’re a hard-hearted woman.”

“I know.”

Dimity mouthed, “Flirting,” at Sophronia, which made her stop self-consciously.

“Oh, look.” Sidheag was the only one not at all interested in this alteration to their London activities. Thus she had not been distracted by the conversation and was pointing at the head table where the teachers sat.

Professor Shrimpdittle, at one end, had spent the entire meal glaring at Professor Braithwope. The visiting teacher’s sandy hair was mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. His blue eyes were watery from lack of sleep. His attitude and appearance were unsettling. The students sensed the tension and were embarrassed. Really, he should try to hide his animosity. It wasn’t done to allow emotions to impact anyone else’s enjoyment of a meal!

The lady teachers were holding their own, despite a grumpy guest, except Professor Lefoux, who was stoically shoving soup into her mouth in the annoyed manner of any woman when a man is misbehaving.

Sidheag’s attention had been caught by the arrival of Madame Spetuna. The fortune-teller was making her way to the dining table. A place was laid for her, so she had been anticipated, although she had missed the soup course. She was permitted to sit, with only a dirty look from Mademoiselle Geraldine, who thought punctuality more important than anything else, including bathing, brains, and breathing.

Sophronia wished for an opportunity to talk to the fortune-teller alone, to test out her suspicions that she was an agent. She considered breaking into the record room to see if there were any files on the lady. Madame Spetuna sat next to Professor Braithwope. The vampire took no food, only sipping a little port. The two engaged in animated conversation, much to the continued annoyance of Shrimpdittle.

Sophronia said, “Professor Shrimpdittle seems quite emotional over the presence of a vampire. I wonder if he is entirely stable. One doesn’t have to like them, but they are here to stay. One must at least be polite.”

This caused all three of the young men at their table to look at her with varying expressions of confusion.

“He’s all right, is Shrimpdittle,” said Pillover. Sophronia remembered, at that moment, that he was the youngest of the boys on board and had said he was confused as to why he had been permitted this trip—which was meant to be a reward for boys of high standing. Had Shrimpdittle insisted Pillover be brought along, intending to put the boy at risk? He could be working for the Picklemen. Did that mean the Picklemen were trying to kidnap Dimity and Pillover?

Sophronia nibbled her bottom lip, staring pensively at the head table. She was bent on getting Vieve’s agenda enacted regardless of the man’s motives. “He seems unhinged. Is he fond of the drink, perhaps? Don’t you feel as if his objections against the supernatural are excessive?”

“What are you implying?” demanded Felix.

“Me, implying? Nothing at all. Although, it could be that he is trying to hide favor or income.”

Monique, of all people, jumped on this idea. “Pretending to hate them, when he really is progressive? Are males of his scientific ilk any good at acting?”

It was a stylish trap, and Sophronia was almost grateful to Monique for staging it, so she didn’t have to. Now the boys at their table either had to defend their teacher as faithful to the conservative cause, but possibly insane, or allow the ladies to imply Shrimpdittle was not honest to the moral foundation of their school.

The boys did neither, being trained only in the ways of infernal devices and not inferring derisively. All of them, even Felix, looked confused. Sophronia hoped that the rumor was out there now—was Professor Shrimpdittle to be trusted? Whose politics did he really back? Was he going mad?

Sidheag jumped in to help. “You know, the other day when we were grounded and Professor Niall was around, I saw them engaged in conversation.”

The three boys only looked more confused.

“Professor Niall,” explained Sophronia, “is a werewolf.”

“Never!” objected Lord Dingleproops. “Not Shrimpdittle!”

Agatha tried as well. “And I saw him being nice to a kitten, once.”

Everyone looked at her, puzzled.

Agatha blushed beet red. “Well,” she practically whispered, “that’s hardly very evil genius of him, now is it?”

Dinner conversation evolved away from the topic at that point, but Sophronia was tolerably certain the school would be buzzing by bedtime with Professor Shrimpdittle’s motives in question.

Her own mind buzzed. She was holding on to too many threads at once and attempting to solve too many puzzles. It wasn’t only Shrimpdittle; there was the information on the throw cushions to consider. Why had that shipment been so important? Was Madame Spetuna involved? Who were the pillows warning about: Picklemen, vampires, or some other element? And how was the Dimity kidnapping attempt connected to this? Did it all come down to the new dirigible technology? And was the guidance valve at the center of the puzzle?

The others chattered, leaving Dimity, Sophronia, and Pillover to themselves at the end of the table.

Sophronia looked at Pillover a long moment. “What do you think of this kidnapping attempt?”

Pillover’s dour face brightened. “Spiffing. I could do with a vacation.”

Dimity put it together. “Monique’s sudden change of heart and ball invitation? You think it has something to do with that?”

“Of course I do.”

“Could we turn it down then?” begged Pillover plaintively.

Dimity whirled on him. “Absolutely not! We should take this as an opportunity to flush out our enemies! Right, Sophronia?”

Sophronia massaged her temples. “This is making my brain hurt.”

“I thought you liked it,” said Pillover.

“In moderation and not while I am also running a character-assassination campaign.”

“Yes, what is this thing with Professor Shrimpdittle? Did he do something particularly awful to you?” Dimity asked.

“Now, Dimity, you know I’m not the kind to seek revenge.”

“Not entirely.”

“What are you girls up to?” demanded Pillover. “I wouldn’t say I like old Shrimps, but he’s not the worst of our teachers, that’s the truth.”

Sophronia puffed out her cheeks. “It isn’t personal. He knows too much, and I have an arrangement that requires I remove him from his current position.”

Pillover put it together. “Vieve! She wants to attend Bunson’s but he knows she’s a she.”

Dimity was shocked. “Oh, Sophronia, no. She can’t be allowed. What if she’s found out? The humiliation! Her aunt can’t possibly entertain such a madcap scheme.”

“If Vieve manages to arrange it so that no one knows, then Professor Lefoux has given her permission. I think her aunt is annoyed they don’t allow ladies to be official evil geniuses. You should know how aggravating that is, with your mother.”

Dimity looked like she didn’t want to believe it. “But I thought Professor Lefoux was so proper.”

“She is French,” said Pillover, as if that could be used to explain all possible impropriety.

“How’d Vieve get you involved?” Dimity demanded.

Sophronia smiled slyly. “I get her gadgets when she leaves.”

Dimity sighed. “I should tell Lord Felix Mersey that the way to your heart is paved with infiltration apparatus.”

Sophronia pretended horror. “Don’t you dare! I like watching him struggle. He’s so handsome when he’s flustered.”

Pillover was disgusted. “Girls!”

A WELL-EXECUTED CHARACTER ASSASSINATION

Sophronia felt it would take only one more delicate push to topple Shrimpdittle. Sister Mattie had instructed them in the fine art of skin dying for subterfuge only a month earlier. Sophronia concocted a plan based on this information. It would involve breaking into a gentleman’s sleeping chamber but, if the professor was a solid sleeper, it shouldn’t be difficult.

Of course, Sophronia had no way of knowing how Professor Shrimpdittle slept. Ordinary character assassinations required considerable research on the victim prior to enactment. Sophronia hadn’t the time. She could only hope that given his fondness for wine, the man would slumber deeply.

Once she had possession of the obstructor, it was a simple matter to make her way to the teacher’s section. Vieve yielded up the device easily, knowing Sophronia was using it for The Cause. Sophronia paused at one juncture, after blasting a maid mechanical, reflecting that she had become quite relaxed about running about after hours. She ought to remember to stay on her guard, for it was when an illegal activity became easy that one was most at risk of exposure.