Curtsies & Conspiracies (Finishing School #2)
Page 32They reached the street where the potentate’s carriage—a landau with footmen in full royal livery—stood waiting for them.
With the potentate, Sister Mattie, and Sidheag safely ensconced within, Captain Niall stood patiently waiting to hand Sophronia up. He was looking particularly well, especially by comparison to the werewolves from earlier that evening. Certainly his top hat was tied on, but he’d forgone the ubiquitous greatcoat for an impeccable black velvet cutaway jacket and matched trousers with a cream brocade waistcoat. His dark hair, longer than was fashionable, was brushed to silken, glossy waves. No wonder young ladies swooned. Felix was handsome in his brooding way, but next to Captain Niall he was boyish.
Sophronia leaned in and kissed Felix gently on the cheek, a reward for good behavior. “Thank you, Felix, for your understanding and your help.” She lowered her eyelashes prettily.
“Ria, you must be the most confusing girl I’ve ever met. You know I’m mad for you?”
“How kind of you to say.” Sophronia gave her hand to the werewolf, and he assisted her inside.
“Good hunting?” commented Sidheag, watching Felix’s retreating back as Sophronia settled in next to her.
“Son of a duke” was Sophronia’s only comment.
The drive back to Hyde Park was fast, tense, and uncomfortable. The potentate spent most of the time lecturing Sophronia on bandying accusations about without proper foundation.
“Imagine a hive interfering in matters of state! Even Westminster wouldn’t dare. You are a stupid, fanciful child. Accusing vampires willfully like that. You’ve been corrupted by association with that Golborne boy!”
Sister Mattie at first didn’t understand what was happening and then tried to defend Sophronia. “But the embroidered cushions did suggest the hive objected. I mean, our intelligencer inside, she indicated that they were upset with Picklemen actions.”
Sophronia perked up at that statement. So the embroidery was code—as I thought—detailing the danger between Westminster and the Picklemen. A spy from Mademoiselle Geraldine’s was trying to warn us from inside the hive. But when Madame Spetuna abandoned her post to infiltrate the flywaymen, there was no one to transport the cushions, and the warnings didn’t make it in time.
But the potentate dismissed this evidence. “Poppycock! I can not believe they would act without at least consulting me!”
Eventually, Sister Mattie merely tried to mollify him with platitudes. “Please, my lord potentate, try to remember that a pumpkin divided against itself cannot gourd!”
Sidheag followed the whole conversation in increasing bemusement, having no idea what was going on. Captain Niall held his tongue, stiff and uncomfortable in a vampire’s carriage. When they arrived back at the airship, the werewolf got out and skulked away into the night. Sophronia had no doubt he would wait for them groundside. He was no fool, Captain Niall.
Back on board, the potentate strode off to visit Professor Braithwope with one last sharp reprimand in Sophronia’s direction.
“You keep your opinions to yourself, little girl!”
Sister Mattie looked at her, face wrinkled with worry. “I’ll endeavor to keep him occupied, dears. But please remember, a lily cannot change its spots.”
As soon as it was safe to speak, Sidheag turned to Sophronia in frustration.
“What on earth is going on?”
“I don’t think much of our school’s patron, I’ll tell you that much,” said Sophronia, glaring at the vampire’s retreating back and sticking her tongue out at it childishly.
“Sophronia!”
“I’ll explain while we change. We have a rescue to mount and a hive house to infiltrate.”
“What?”
“What are we changing into?” Sidheag asked, as they hurried back to their rooms.
Sophronia thought about her encounter with the fashionable blond vampire. “Dandies. We need to look like dandies.”
Sidheag pursed her lips. “I’m not cutting my hair.”
They did their best with the disguises, dressing in a combination of Sidheag’s trousers and their own lace under blouses and velvet vests. Real dandies would have had better-fitting clothing, not to mention superior cravats. The two girls ended up looking like something that came from an underfunded circus.
“We are ridiculous.” Sidheag adjusted her coat in the mirror. “And you don’t have a jacket.”
“Preshea has one of those new little short ones, you know, like the bullfighters of Spain.” Sophronia went off on a raid, returning with a bright red-and-gold bolero of which Preshea was particularly proud. Sophronia put it on.
“God’s teeth,” said Sidheag, succinctly.
They did look preposterous, but Sophronia felt that would throw people off if they were caught. “Here, wrap this blue scarf around your waist, and I’ll do the same with Dimity’s fringed yellow one, and we can say we have been attending a fancy dress ball.”
Sidheag did as she was told. “What will Captain Niall think of us?”
“Does that matter, so long as he gets us there? I do hope we have lessons soon on how to memorize locations. I’m annoyed with myself for not knowing how to get back to the hive.”
“Better to worry about how absurd we look! No one in their right mind would let us into their house. Wait, hive? What hive?”
Sophronia explained about Dimity and Pillover being kidnapped by Lord Ambrose and the Westminster Hive.
“I think the vampires want to force their parents to either stop making the guidance valves altogether or hand control of the technology over to the hive. Dimity’s parents are reportedly working for the Picklemen, and the vampires don’t trust Picklemen. Nor do I. For that matter, I just don’t trust any of them.” While she talked, she stashed anything she could think of that might be useful about her person—smelling salts in the waistcoat pocket, sewing scissors down the front of her corset, ribbon around her wrist, and a perfume-soaked handkerchief up one sleeve.
“I’m confused. Sabotage or not, this is clearly a technology vampires canna utilize.”
“I think that’s why they’re panicking. They’re trying to ensure this mode of travel is under their influence.”
Sidheag understood at that. “Can’t have the prey bouncing about through the aetherosphere all willy-nilly, now can they?”
“Sidheag, you think like a predator.”
The Lady of Kingair glowed in pleasure. “Thank you very much, Sophronia. What a nice thing to say.”
They were discussing whether to climb around the outside of the ship or save time by running the inside corridors but risk the mechanical alarm when Vieve showed up.
“What’s going on?” demanded the scamp.
“Get us to engineering fast and I’ll tell you,” replied Sophronia.
“My pleasure.” Vieve whipped out her obstructor.
As they negotiated the halls at a jog, blasting one mechanical after another, Sophronia panted out her story again.
Sophronia said, “This school has a vampire patron and a vampire teacher. Lady Linette wants to believe him. She wants to believe the potentate has control over the hives and that they aren’t kidnapping her students on a whim. I think Sister Mattie and Professor Braithwope, were he capable, are on our side. Captain Niall certainly is.”
“He would be. Werewolves always suspect vampires.” Vieve nodded gravely.
The sooties, after their conquest of the upper atmosphere, were mostly resting. A minimal crew kept the boilers at temperature—maintaining a steady position, heat for the residential sections, and power to the mechanicals.
The three girls dressed as boys clattered in and through the relative quiet without raising any suspicion. Even if two of them looked like an operatic take on bull-herding Spaniards.
Sophronia hoped Soap was also asleep; somehow she knew he’d be difficult if he found out what she was up to.
“Crikey, don’t you two look as fancy as fleas’ eyebrows!” said Soap, appearing behind her.
“Yes, well, it’s necessary.” Sophronia was short with her friend.
“Necessary? Those trousers are awful tight.” Soap’s eyes were wide. “Not that you don’t fill them out right, miss.” He lost his train of thought. “Oh, blast it.”
Sophronia came to his rescue. “We need to be able to cast doubt on a third party, in case we’re caught.”
“Caught doing what, exactly?” Soap demanded.
Vieve, little blabbermouth, answered him brightly, “Infiltrating a hive house.”
Soap’s dark eyes went worried. “Miss, is that a good idea?”
Sophronia gave up keeping him out of it. “No. It’s a dangerous, vampire-riddled mission, but they have kidnapped Dimity and Pillover.”
“I’m coming,” said Soap instantly.
“Now, Soap, you haven’t the training.” But Sophronia was already reconfiguring her plan to include him.
“And you aren’t finished with yours. At least I’ve experienced life.” The boy was already stripping out of his coal apron.
“Oh, very well. No time to argue. I’m worried about Dimity. She’s good but only in short bursts. Plus can you imagine her in a hive house? All that loose blood lying about.”
Soap said, “Coming, Vieve?”
Vieve shook her head. “Off-ship adventuring is not for me anymore. I’d sooner stay behind and provide the gadgets.”
Sophronia was relieved at that; she really would have had to put her foot down. At seventeen, Soap was grown and able to decide for himself. Vieve was too young to go breaking into vampire hives and too cheeky to take such things seriously.
The three went out the floor hatch, shimmying down the rope ladder.
“So,” said Soap, “where exactly are we going, and how do we get there?”
“My questions exactly,” said Captain Niall, coming up behind them out of the dark.
“Oh, really, young lady!” He had changed out of his evening dress to his customary greatcoat.
Sophronia blinked at him.
“Dressed like that?”
Blink, blink, blink.
“With a sootie and Lady Kingair?”
“Someone has to get Dimity and Pillover out, sir. And you can’t do it alone. Now can you?”
“Who said I—”
Sidheag interrupted. “He couldn’t do it regardless. The vampires would know the moment a wolf entered their hive.”
Sophronia made herself look expectant and wide-eyed. “But he can get us there. Sir, you have to help.”
“I do?”
“You believe me.”
“I do.” The werewolf was defeated by such logic.
“And you know where it is, don’t you?”
“I do.” Captain Niall sighed. “I’m going to get in a great deal of trouble for this. Very well, hop on.” With that, he changed form.
Werewolf change is an unpleasant thing to watch, and poor Soap had never seen it before. He yelped as the handsome captain went from being a fine specimen of manhood to a large, rangy wolf with a top hat tied to his head, squatting in a pool of fallen greatcoat.
Sophronia tried not to hear the way Captain Niall’s bones broke and knit back together with crunching noises. She tried not to see the way the man’s silky hair grew down and became fur, spreading like mold over his body.
Soap was quietly and efficiently sick behind a pile of cast-iron pilings. He bravely returned once the change was complete, although he was distinctly uncomfortable with the alteration. “Oh, miss, do we have to ride that?”
Sophronia, who had ridden a wolf only once before, pretended confidence. “It’s actually a pleasant way to travel.”
“I doubt that, miss.”
“You can go in the middle.”
If Soap felt his manliness in question over such an offer, he didn’t say so.
Sophronia climbed up front, her legs tucked up high. She gripped Captain Niall’s furry neck with her knees and his ruff with her hands. Soap climbed on after, wrapping both arms around her waist in a death grip. It was very intimate, especially with only a few layers of masculine clothing between them. However, Soap seemed too frightened to take advantage of the situation. Sidheag, accustomed to werewolf transport, took the rear, over the beast’s haunches, the most difficult seat to maintain. She gripped Soap’s waist in turn. The wolf was only just big enough, but he was certainly strong enough, and he took off at a pace more rapid than any horse could manage.